#5 Monday, March 10 "Hello, Pinochio"

The cell phone makes its familiar noise as it wakes us up. We are leaving Florence today, headed for Sorrento. Most of the day will be spent on the bus riding through the Tuscan countryside. It is a welcomed rest from walking and gives our legs a break. After breakfast with one last sweet croissant, we struggle with our bags to get them loaded on the bus. They are a bit heavier with all the scarves we bought!

Our itinerary tells us we have a stop during the mid morning in a small town called San Gimignano, a town that is described in the guide book as "a the most magical of Tuscany's hill towns." The guide book could not have been more correct. This was one of the most delightful side stops we made on the entire trip.

As we ride during the morning, we are finally in the Tuscan countryside I imagine when I think of Italy, countryside that reminds me of the movie Under the Tuscan Sun. There are rolling hills of vineyards and olive groves on both sides of the bus. It is a wonderful morning just to ride and not have a care in the world other than gazing out the window and not missing one beautiful site. One of those sites is the mimosa trees that are in full bloom during this time of year in Italy. They are not like our mimosa trees with the pink, wispy blooms. The bloom is cluster-like with bright yellow, tiny, round flowers. These trees dot the hillsides, and many of the Italians have them growing in pots around their homes. San Gimignano is nestled in the Tuscan hillside surround by these groves, vineyards and mimosa trees.

An olive grove on a hillside

The Tuscan hillside just outside San Gimignano.

We arrive at the town around 10:00 a.m. and have approximately 2 hours to visit and walk around. After a short walk up a fairly steep hill, we come upon the old city gate that is worn by the elements and overgrown with vines.

The old town gate of San Gimignano

Brief History Lesson: The Town of San Gimignano

During the 13th century San Gimignano was one of the major mercantile towns in Tuscany. The rich and powerful families of the town built towers as part of their homes that could be viewed for miles around the city. These towers represented their wealth and power in the area. When Florence conquered the area in the 14th century, most of the 76 towers were knocked down, and today only 14 towers remain. Also, San Gimignano is known in folklore and fairytale as the home of Pinocchio, the fictional character that first appeared in 1883, in The Adventures of Pinocchio by Carollo Coldoi. He was carved from a piece of pine by a woodcarver named Geppetto in a small Italian village and was created as a wooden puppet that dreamed of becoming a real boy. The name "Pinocchio" is derived from the Italian words pino (pine tree), and occhio (eye), i.e. pine-eye. In the Tuscan dialect, pinocchio is the term used to refer to the pine nut.

Class dismissed.

We are in awe as we are taken back in time after we pass through the city gate. The streets are narrow and hilly. The aroma of pastries and strong coffee float out the shop doors, and there is an overcast dreariness that adds to the aura of the town. We stroll in and out of the shops and run upon one filled with Pinocchio souvenirs. Shirley and I buy the grand kids t-shirts and Pinocchios bouncing on springs to commemorate our visit. We continue to walk around the town and visit some of the sites and eventually purchase some of the pastries for the bus ride. Some how mine do not make it to the bus.

My traveling buddies on one of the narrow streets with some of the remaining towers in the background.

The well at the center of the old town

The Collegiata that has frescoes of New Testament scenes inside

One of the many niches in the sides of the buildings. At one time they held religious statues.

Some of the more modern homes on the outskirts of the old town

A mimosa in full bloom

After a 2 hour visit, we load the bus again for a 6 hour ride to Sorrento, located on the Bay of Naples. From what I understand the town is perched on a drop-off at the edge of the bay. I later find out that drop-off is an understatement.

About an hour and a half into our drive, we stop at the infamous Autogrill again. It is at this grill that I get my induction to the world of eating at an Autogrill, described in an earlier post. I order my prosciutto and mozzarella and tomato sandwich and settle in for the rest of the ride. As the day wains, we start to arrive on the coast of the Bay of Naples. The ride becomes quite precarious as we wind on a narrow road situated dangerously close to the edge of the drop-off, better known now as a cliff. As we arrive in Sorrento in a misty rain, the lights of the town reflect on the bay. It is a beautiful site, I think, because I am watching how close we are to the cliff on the right side of the bus.


We arrive at the Hotel Ambasciatori at 7:00 p.m. and pile off the bus to retrieve our luggage. The luggage is stored, and we head to the dining room for our evening dinner. MR explains that she splurged with this reservation and that the Hotel Ambasciatori is a 4-star hotel. It is nice. Pictures of the hotel follow.

Lobby area of the hotel

Area leading to the dining room

Our bathroom

If you are wondering why I took a picture of our bathroom, it is because I was excited that first, it is pretty and second, and more importantly, it has a tub in which I plan on relaxing in as soon as possible.


Now back to dinner. We claim our dinning places, and the waiter takes our orders. With our anti pasta we had several choices from which I chose a risotto with sausage and truffles (yum, yum, yum); our main course is a choice of a smoked fish or roasted pork (Can you guess what I chose?!); dessert was a choice of a cream cake or mixed fruit or gelato. I chose gelato. Dessert is when we sort of lose our composure. Shirley ordered the mixed fruit for her dessert, and that is what she got--a pear, a banana, and an apple. Not pealed, not sliced. Just plain pieces of fruit sitting on a plate. We have had such a long day that we are rather silly and thought this display of the fruit as a dessert was the funniest thing we had seen in a long time. Someone even took a picture of the fruit on the plate.

After our wonderful meal and our silliness settle, we head to our room on the second floor. We throw back the shutters and stand on our balcony and look out at the bay. The darkness hides the bay so we really have no idea what our view is really like. We decide who is getting in the tub first, and it happens to be me. I retire to the bath and soak for a while. Afterward, I get ready for our trip to the Island of Capri the next day. I set the ol' reliable cell phone, and fall into my bed for a deep sleep.

#4 Sunday, March 9 Last Day in Florence or Punching Becky

Before I begin this next entry, I want to introduce my traveling companions.

The Adults

Front: Bill Nunley; Second row:Lisa Young, Diane Nunley, Susan Allen, Debbie Woodruff; Third row: Robert Sledge, Natalie Peeler, Mary Kat McDowell, Betty Barrett Rodgers, Susan Jordon, Patricia Brashier, Nan Randall, Diana McDowell, Cathy Dickerson; Fourth Row: Mary Ruth Brindley, Randy Randall, Shirley Turner; Back Row: John Brindley, Drew McDowell, Me. I hope our group picture made by some of the other cameras is better than this one.

Mini Bios

Shirley Turner and Cathy Dickerson--my traveling buddies and long time friends. I may have mentioned this before, but Shirley and I were in college together and in the same sorority, and our husbands were roommates at Delta State. Before we left on the trip, Shirley hurt her back and the sciatic nerve running down her right leg. As a result, she has a hard time sitting, especially for long periods of time. That is why you will see her standing in the pictures at mealtime. Cathy and her husband became our friends through Shirley and her husband. For the last several years, we have spent spring holidays together. This year the men went their way and the girls went to Italy.

Mary Ruth and John Brindley--the official tour guides. They have been taking IA "children" to Europe for the past 12 years. John is music director at First Methodist in Indianola and MR taught English at IA and now at MDCC. She is a great teacher and a long-time friend. John is a nut!!!!, a good nut, however.

Debbie Woodruff--official tour guide #2. Debbie has made most of the trips with the IA groups. I have known Debbie for a long time through tennis and our attending Bible study together. I enjoyed striking out with her on our last day in Rome so we wouldn't miss seeing anything we had come to see. She is also a master gardener, and one I can hardly wait to get to my house to help landscape my front flower bed with some color, preferably red.

Diane and Bill Nunley--from Greenwood but formerly lived in Indianola. I had the honor of teaching their three children. Bill and Dianne were acquaintances, but they are now friends. They are so much fun to be around and are ready for an adventure any time. Bill is the resident thespian and sings beautifully. His comment to me after I was separated from the group in Pisa was, "I am so glad we found you. This could have messed up the whole trip." Thanks Bill for your concern!!

Diane and Drew McDowell--from Indianola and like the Nunleys, former acquaintances but now friends. Drew is also another friend with whom I attend Bible study and have gotten to know through his mother who is my backdoor neighbor. Diane never meets a stranger. Drew had some anxiety over flying and the trip in general, but when we hit the Italian soil he was a changed man.

Mary Kat McDowell--my neighbor and friend. What a woman!!! She is 80 years old and never missed a step. She endeared herself to the kids, and her grandson was on the trip along with her son Drew and his wife Diane. They made a family affair of the trip.

Robert Sledge--was the backup man, literally. When we walked around, Robert was at the back of the group to keep up with the stragglers. He got to know me well since I tend to be a straggler (Do I need to mention Pisa?). I knew Robert from hearing him sing, but got to know him on this trip. His is a smart, well-read man with a kind heart.

Natalie Peeler--has made several of the IA trips and is from Shaw. She also attends Bible study with me and is a master gardener. I enjoyed picking her brain about plants. I consider her a true hero as she is a cancer survivor.

Lisa Young--was our resident nurse. Thank goodness for her and her recommendation about scopolimine patches, which you will learn about later. Susan is quiet, but I admire her for jumping in with a group of strangers and enjoying a trip to a foreign place. I learned later during the trip that she had an affinity for Austi Spumante, so we shared a bottle each of the last two nights in Rome. Salute, Lisa!

Susan Allen and Betty Barrett Rodgers-- a.k.a, the Sistas. You have to remember that although I have lived here for 30 years, I am still considered a foreigner to the Delta. I am a hill person from Tupelo so I still do not know all the ins and outs of the Delta and Indianola. It has only been in the last few years that I realized that Betty Barrett and Susan were sisters. Another one of those duh moments. They are fun to be around, and Susan can be a surrogate tour guide on a moment's notice.

Patricia Brashier--a gentle spirit who never raises her voice. How I aspire to be like this. Her daughter Ann Hall was on the trip too, and she reminds me so much of my Laura. Ann Hall is beautiful and fairly quiet (I'm sure her freinds would problably say differently), and it was obivous she loved her jeans and tennis shoes. She could dress with the best of them, but I think she liked comfort better. A girl after mine and Laura's hearts.

Susan Jordan--interior designer extraordinaire and traveler. Susan had made a previous trip to Italy and knew some of the places to visit and at which to eat. She is from Yazoo City, and her daughter joined up with the IA crew for the trip.

Nan and Randy Randall--they both also attend Bible study with me, and I have known them for many years but really got to know them better on this trip. They both are kind people who will go out of their way to do anything for this community, their church, and their friends.

We are on the go again . . . . . . . Sunday morning dawns with the alarm of the cell phone, and as they did the morning before, Shirley and Cathy spring up from their beds with a vigor that is totally foreign to me. I am not a morning person. I have to "work" on getting up, which may include all or some of going back to sleep for a few minutes, rolling over to Lance's side of the bed and going back to sleep a few more minutes, or turning on Good Morning America and going back to sleep for a few more minutes, or stretching and groaning about how much I hate morning and dragging myself out of the bed and stumbling to the bathroom. But, since I was with my buds, I kept the hysterics to a minimum and lay in my bed wondering how they just jump up so quickly and face the day.

Anyway, after getting my sore calves limbered up, I get up and get dressed in time to go to breakfast and eat one, maybe two, of the filled sweet croissants and pass on the coffee. We gather in the lobby and head as a group to church services at the Santa Croce Church not far from the hotel. We are a bit disappointed that the front of the church around the altar area is under restoration; so much of the beauty of the altar is hidden. The mass was completely in Italian with some Latin thrown in here and there, and the temperature gave meaning to the words "stone cold." There was no heat; imagine those early Italians not thinking of putting in duct work for the inclusion of heat in the 20th century. I have always been fascinated by the liturgy of the Catholic Church, and this Sunday was no exception. I understood a few words here and there and made out that the scripture reading and sermon was on Christ's raising of Lazarus. After the service, we visited the burial places of Galileo and Michelangelo inside the church.

After the service, as a group we head to the Piazza Michelangelo high above the city of Florence to get the grand view of the city and to make the first of several group pictures of the "children," and the adults took advantage of the time also to get one. The view of Florence is stunning from the piazza.

View of Florence from the Piazza Michelangelo

After arriving back in the city, we are on our own to see the sites and shop one more day before we leave on Monday morning for Sorrento. Shirley and Cathy and I strike out with several destinations in mind, one being the Ponte Vecchio, better known as the Punching Becky!

My friends Shirley and Cathy are elementary school teachers and sometimes their conversations amaze me as they talk about the various programs in our schools and how they struggle to teach children to read and comprehend. Apparently there all kinds of little "tricks" to get younger children to remember words and phrases, and I got to see one of these "tricks" in action. Cathy was having trouble remembering how to pronounce Ponte Vecchio, so she used the association trick of giving it another name in English that sounded fairly close to the Italian pronunciation, hence, Punching Becky.

A Brief History Lesson: The Ponte Vecchio, a.k.a The Punching Becky

There are several bridges that cross the Arno River in Florence, one of them being the Ponte Vecchio. The bridge is part of a walkway system that the Medicis built to walk to the Pitti Palace after they decided to leave the original Medici Palace (picture in post #2). On the bridge that was part of that walkway, there are shops that once housed the butchers and tanners of Florence, and the owners would dump the remains of the animals they slaughtered in the river. Apparently the stench was awful and the Medicis did not like the smell, so they evicted the butchers and tanners and instead let the gold merchants set up shop on the bridge. Until this day, the gold artisans still remain in these shops. The shop windows are filled with their beautiful gold creations that are said to total into the millions of dollars. During WWII the Ponte Vecchio was the only bridge in Florence that was not bombed by the Allies.

Class dismissed.

The Ponte Vecchio on the Arno River in Florence

We eat a quick lunch and wander across the Ponte Vecchio and soon realize our euros will not go far on this side of town so we head back to the Central Marker and Celeste to purchase a few more scarves and ties, like we didn't have enough already.

We finish our shopping and find our way back to the Uffizzi Museum. I am finally going to get to see The Birth of Venus. After going through airport security measures, we are inside and ready for viewing. We stroll down the main corridor lined with sculptures and dart in rooms whose walls are hung with some of the most beautiful paintings. I am on the lookout for Venus, but she is nowhere to be found. The afternoon is passing quickly, and I am beginning to think that like the Leaning Tower, I have made it all this way and will not get to see my entry on my bucket list. We run into some of our group and ask if they have seen Venus, and they point us in the right direction. There she is in all her nude glory. On the adjoining wall is the other painting entitled Spring. I can now mark another item of the list, and I am not even separated from my group! We finish our viewing and visit the souvenir shop to make our purchases and head back to the hotel to get ready for dinner.

We couldn't take pictures in the Uffizzi, but above is a copy of Sandro Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. I'm still not sure why pictures of this painting have always fascinated me, but it is stunning to see it in person.

We arrive at the hotel in time to check our e-mail and get ready to go out to eat for our last meal in Florence. We have reservations at La Martinica. It is too far for us to walk, and it is raining fairly hard, so we take our first taxi ride of the trip. Now, I haven't ridden in a taxi too many times, New York and London being the extent of my taxi experiences, but I think we literally put our lives in the hands of our taxi driver. He sped around the narrow streets like a man possessed for at least 10 minutes. We arrive and pay him 15 euros for the trip. Remember 10 minutes and 15 euros.

I can't let the post finish without a description of our meal. The restaurant is quaint and our waiter is so personable. We learn that his wife is from the states, and he shows us pictures of his children. Where have they been hiding this man? He needs to give nice lessons to some of his countrymen.

Our anti pasta is a spinach tortellini with a tomato, basil and cream sauce (a sauce I want to try to recreate). Our meal is a chicken cutlet with mushroom sauce and roasted garlic potatoes. Dessert is a wonderful tiramisu, not too bitter, and a chocolate cream cake. What can I say, another great meal. The tortellini were the hit of the meal. Everyone commented on how good they were.

We catch a taxi back to the hotel. Can you say sucker? The ride back to the hotel lasts approximately 5 minutes and costs 11 euros. I hope the other driver enjoyed his extra money at the expense of the "Americanos stupido." I'm sure the same thing happens to tourists who come to the U.S. Why can't we all just behave?!

We get back to our room and get our bags ready for the next morning because we are heading to Sorrento. I set my cell phone and I fall in the bed exhausted.

It's Time to Vent!

To all of you who are waiting anxiously for the next post on the Italy trip (I know there are so many of you out there), you will still have to wait another day or two. Last week my precious family came for a four day visit after which I had to take to the bed for three days. I have heard many of my grandparent friends relay the familiar story of how wonderful it is to see the tail lights of their children's vehicles after a visit, and I can say that was the case for me this past Sunday afternoon, not because they drove me crazy or wore me out, but because I was so sick I could hardly hold my head up. The meanest stomach bug knocked me down with a sledge hammer, and I have lived on instant mashed potatoes, skittles, and diet Dr. Pepper for this entire week. These are the only food items that will stay in me. I am suppose to go to Shapley's tonight to eat, and I have no idea what I am going to order to eat now that I am in the land-of- the-living and do not want to go back to the land-of-lying-in-bed and halfway watching television.

Now, this is where the vent comes in. I am a Christian and a Methodist by domination via the Baptist Church. I was raised a Baptist and had a short stint in the Episcopal Church as a way to bridge the difference between my husband's Catholic upbringing and my Southern Baptist legacy. We eventually joined the Methodist Church when we returned to Mississippi in 1979 after starting our married life together in Florida. The reason I inform you of this is to explain that although Methodists do not actively mark the 40 days of Lent by having to give up something, my husband and I usually will decide on giving up something as a way to reinforce discipline in our lives, if only for 40 days. Note: Whatever you give up has to be a sacrifice. My giving up brussell sprouts would not be a sacrifice; believe me.

So this is where my vent takes its creation. Lance gave up drinking beer, and I gave up watching television, a real sacrifice for me. My good friend Shirley never watches television and her life goes on quite well, even though when we all get together and begin discussing something that has happened on a national level or some weird happening that has taken TV by storm, she just looks at us like we are crazy. So I thought if she can do it all the time, I could do it for 40 days. They were the most wonderful 40 days of my life, even if I did not get to see the latest Design to Sell on HGTV or jot down one of Giada's wonderful Italian recipes. I missed Bill O'Rilley's Patriots and Pinheads ( no big deal), but I did miss Robin and Dianne and Chris on Good Morning America as I dressed in the mornings. But the truly serious withdrawal came when I could not watch Law and Order (Yes, I have seen them all at least 6 times if not more, but I can not get enough and I love Jack's gray hair).

Here's what I realized after 40 days of no TV:

I know the Lord led me to stop watching TV for Lent.
The TV for the most part (probably because I get only basic cable) is aptly named the idiot box.

I got more done around my house.
I read some of the most wonder stuff, both spiritual and pleasurable.
Lance and I talked more because he pretty much observed the no TV rule while I was in the room.
My insominia went away.
Most importanly, what is considered news is a bunch of crap!

What prompted this particular blog is what I have heard on TV these last few days while I recovered from the sledge hammer blow:

A man is having a baby!?????? Just because techonology allows us to do whatever, does it make it right?

Some third graders were planning on hurting or maybe even killing their teacher. What happened to playing hop scotch, tag, dodge ball, and writing notes of check yes or no so I will know if you like me or not.

A girl is being criminally charged because her bus driver could not or would not take charge of a situation on her own bus. Did you ever hear the threat, "If you get in trouble at school, you will be in double trouble when you get home."

Hilliary lied about sniper fire. What is news about that? She lied? Wow! Who'd a thought that?

McCain made a gaff in Iraq. Like he's the only one?!!!!!

O'Bama is allied with a minister who can't keep his mouth shut. Does the media not know the dynamic of the black church in the south?

Mississippi legislators are worried more about killing deer over feeding plots than our failing Medicaid system and the fact that we do not have enough certified teachers in this state. Looks like the good ole boys are still in charge despite all the supposed progress that has been made in our state.

There are enough feel good television evangelists to make the good Lord above shake his head in disgust and wonder if they have really read His word. I shutter at all the "if you can name it, you can claim it" drivel or the "we are all trying to get to heaven; there are just different ways to get there" response. Yeah, right!

Jack still wins the same case he won when I watched the story the last time. However, his gray hair is still attractive.

What have I learned from all this wonderful "news"? Lent or no Lent, I am not watching TV anymore !!!!!

Now you know where Laura gets her ability to vent. The apple does not fall far from the tree!!!!! Italy trip narrative will return soon. Happy reading.

#3 Saturday, March 8 "I can't believe I ate the whole thing."

When I was a kid growing up, there was a commercial for Alka Seltzer on TV that had a man in his pajamas sitting on the side of his bed late in the evening and moaning, "I can't believe I ate the whole thing." That's the way I felt after this day was over.

The alarm on my cell phone (no, there was not a clock in the room) rings at 7:00 am. As I open my eyes, I realize I have not moved the entire night. That's how tired I was. We get up, and for three women, I must admit we have a pretty good system for getting ready in one bathroom. We have breakfast in a small but quaint dining room. There are fruit juices, coffee, cereals, fruit, cheese, and breads from which to choose, so we begin our perusal of the breakfast bar. The fruit juice ends up not being the best, and the best description for the coffee is motor oil, thick and strong. But there is a wonderful treat in the form of a crescent roll that has a sweet glaze over the top, which can be filled with a custard cream, or sugary syrup or be plain. I never figured out how to determine which I was selecting, but there wasn't a bad one in the bunch. This morning I eat two, along with cheese and toast with butter and cherry jelly. Yes, cherry jelly. I can't say that I have had anything like that before, but it is good.

After breakfast we meet in the hotel lobby to begin a day of sightseeing and shopping, We meet our guide Roberto at the Santa Croce Church and begin our tour of the old city of Florence. Old might not be the right word since that part of town is a vibrant part of the city's life. As he takes us through town, we hear the well-known names of Michelangelo, da Vinci, Medici, Dante and Machiavelli, people I have studied and taught in my career as an English teacher.

Santa Croce Church, burial place for Michelangelo, Galileo, and Machiavelli

We spend half our morning on a tour around the Piazza del Vecchio looking at the various types of architecture, the statues, and examining the influence of the Medici family in early Florence. While showing us the outside of the Uffizzi, the government office building of the Medici family that is now a museum, Robert mentions two more items to be checked off my Bucket List, Botticelli's The Birth of Venus (better known to most students as Venus on a half shell) and Primavera, also known as Spring. I begin to salivate knowing that I will get to see these at some point while in Florence.

First palace of the Medici family at the Piazza del Vecchio

Replica of the original Il David, placed in the spot where the original was placed outside the Medici palace

Michelangelo's sculpture of Neptune outside the Medici palace

Former Gondi palace where da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa

Now is time for the coup gras of the morning, our viewing Michelangelo's Il David. We have seen one replica of the statue in the Piazza del Vecchio, but nothing has prepared us to see the "real thing." Roberto gives us all the details of the statues from what David is holding in his left hand to why his right hand is out of proportion to the rest of the statue. We examine the statue from the front, both sides and the back and the front again. Although, The David was not on my Bucket List, I think it should have been. When we get to the bookstore and souvenir shop, I purchase my book on the Il David to read later. I will need a translator. I accidentally purchased the one in Italian!

Front of the the Santa Maria del Fiore with pink and green marble

By now I have walked off my breakfast, and the organized part of the day is finished. We are on our own until 6:00 that evening. I am hungry, and so are several others. Our tour leader MR and her husband John end up going with the 3 buddies to a ristorante named ZaZa's. It is a small and crowed establishment that is rather warm inside so we opt to sit in the outside dining area. Our waitress is pleasant, a contrast to other Italians we have dealt with so far, but at this point I am still reserving my judgement on the population as a whole. We look over our selections and there it is--prosciutto. Now mind you I have never eaten prosciutto, but I have watched Giada on the Food Channel use it in many of her Italian specialities. You might be wondering how I know I would like prosciutto. Well, I am a vegetarian by choice, but not a vegan. I do eat dairy products and other produce from animals. And, I do like meat, but I choose not to eat it. But I must confess I love pork--pork chops, pork roast, pork tenderloin, and most of all BACON, fried crisp. If I fall off the wagon, bacon is usually the culprit. Prosciutto is pork that has been cure and salted and is what Italians consider the equal of our bacon,. Ergo, I know I like prosciutto. For my appetizer I order melon and prosciutto. Our waitress sits my plate in front of me, and I am salivating at this point. I wrap my first piece of melon in the prosciutto and pop it in my mouth. Yep! I knew I would like it. No. I love it. I continue to eat with gusto while the others at my table wonder if I have lost my mind. I finally persuade John to try a bite. Yep! He likes it. My main course of ravioli in a creamy red sauce with Parmesan cheese is next, and I inhale it along with bread and oil. The Italians just may have this eating thing down to an art.

We pass on ZaZa's dessert, and opt to introduce ourselves to gelato, an Italian ice cream. I am not a big ice cream eater, but gelato could change my mind . It is this creamy concoction that comes in flavors we have not even begun to think of here in the States. We all share in tasting each others' and vow to try more later.

We are near the Central Market and decide to do some shopping Italian style, bargaining. The market is a site to behold. Leather is everywhere, leather purses, leather coats, leather gloves, leather hats, leather wallets. Cashmere and lambswool scarves of every color and design and style. Murano glass jewelry and trinkets. Wooden Pinocchios (will explain later). Linen table cloths, napkins, and handkerchiefs. There are all kinds of items a euro can purchase. Note: The Euro is the money in Italy and is being used over most of Europe. The exchange rate for the US dollar is not good . While we are there the we have to pay $1.65 for one Euro. Your money can get away from you very quickly. But there are some great buys at the market, and Cathy and Shirley and I make friends with a vendor named Celeste from Romania; we buy scarves galore. Everyone we know back home will be dressed in an Italian scarf next winter. After spending time and money at the market, we begin to head back to our hotel. On the way we stop by the Ufizzi to get our tickets for a Sunday visit to the museum.


We get back to the hotel and purchase some computer time to e-mail home and learn that parts of Mississippi have gotten snow. Crazy weather.


We gather in the hotel lobby to walk to Il Latini to experience a fantastic meal Italian style. After a brisk stroll and a brief wait, we are seated and begin our meal. Our antipasta is served first: fresh mozzarella cheese, tomatoes, and prosciutto (yea!). First course: 3 soups-cannelloni bean, tomatoes and eggplant, tomato and bread and two pasta dishes, one with a white sauce and one with a red sauce. Main course: a meat platter containing chicken, lamb, pork, and duck, along with roasted potatoes with rosemary. The icing on the cake is the dessert platter that has tiramisu, cheese cake, fruit tart, gelato, and vanilla cream cake. To wind up the meal we are served a small shot of amaretto that warms me all the way through. One of my favorite places to eat is Walker's Drive Inn in Jackson, and I don't know of anything that rivals their crab cakes and the red fish, but this meal came close to it.

Dining at Il Latini: front to back: Robert Sledge, DK, Shirely (standing, I will explain later), Cathy

Left front to back: Randy and Nan Randle; Right: Patricia Brashier, Susan Allen, Susan Jordon, Betty Barret Rodgers

Left front to back: Bill Nunley, Drew McDowell, Debbie Woodruff, Natalie Peeler: Right: Diane Nunley, Mary Ruth and John Brindley, Mary Kat McDowell


Thank goodness we walk after this meal back to our hotel. We sit in the lobby for a while, and I learn how to play a card game and play a few hands before I turn in for the night. I am stuffed, and the man in the commercial finds his way into my thoughts as I get ready for bed and another night of sound sleep after three great meals.

The traveling buddies after a wonderful meal at Il Latini

#2 Friday, March 7 Our First Day in Italy or "I haven't come this far for a drive by look at the Leaning Tower."

Let me preface this entry by saying, if I had known how the day would turn out, I would have spent more time praying after reading my devotion on the plane.

The day begins with a beautiful sunrise over the Alps. I pass on the breakfast and drink the cup of o.j. and go to the restroom to freshen up a bit (ha ha). We debark and go through a passport check and then claim our luggage. Pablo, our bus driver, is waiting for us with the obligatory "Mr. Brindley" sign and leads us to our bus, our home for the day. May I interject at this point I did not know a bus could look so good after sitting between two strangers for eight hours. We load our luggage and head into Milan to see the Duomo, the second largest cathedral in Italy after St. Peter's. Basilica in Rome.

On the hour ride, we get a glimpse of the outer city of Milan and the thoroughfare, along with the blooming shrubs, flowers and trees. The foliage is much like that of Mississippi , bright yellow forsythia, Japanese magnolias, and the glossy green leaf magnolias.

We arrive at the center of Milan to visit our destination. Old buildings with scroll work, sculpture and the necessary gargoyle rain spouts line the streets. We walk through an elegant shopping piazza with Armani, Prada, Ferragamo, and other Italian fashion names lining the the street and offering the finest and most expensive merchandise. One of the streets leads to the open piazza and the Duomo. After spending time on and around the ground floor of the cathedral, some of us ride the lift to the top while others climb the steps (Yay, Drew) to view the piazza below and the city with the Alps in the distance. We also see the La Scala Opera House from the outside only since it is closed to visitors this day.

The Duomo in Milan. The boards in front are part of scaffolding that is being used in cleaning the building. The church is the largest example of Gothic architecture in Italy.

I'm standing on the steps of the cathedral with the Piazza del Duomo in the background.

The Piazza del Duomo from the roof of the cathedral.

We load the bus again for a four hour ride to Pisa to the the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa, which will stay etched in my mind for a long while. A quick stop at an Autogrill puts us on our way to Pisa. Note: There is the phenomenon all around the major highways in Italy known as an Autogrill. It is a fancy version of what we have here in the states known as a truck stop. There are quarters for drivers to rest and shower and restrooms for travelers to visit for a needed break. But this is where the similarity stops. There is also a fast food court of sorts, along with a mini grocery store and shopping area--think Cracker Barrel but more sophisticated. You can purchase fast food, pizza, and pasta along with fries and cokes. But even better, is the Italian sandwiches you can purchase with all kinds of meats, seasonings, cheeses, and veggies. They are served on flat breads or panini bread or hard rolls. Never underestimate the meal that can be purchased at the Autogrill! The Greshams need to look into this concept for the Double Quick. I regret I did not get a picture of the Autogrill setup. At this point, I was not hungry so I did not even go in. I ate a pack of nabs and drank some water, a decision I would later regret.

We make our way over the mountains of northern Italy and drive south heading to Pisa. We have a very sleepy drive through the Tuscany region and countryside. I have often heard of the beautiful Tuscany area, but this part was not that beautiful. As a mater of fact, it reminded me of the Mississippi Delta with its areas of poverty and rundown landscape. We are now traveling in rain that turns to snow as we climb the elevation. Haiden, one of the students on the trip, is disappointed when we go back down and the snow turns to rain again. We drive into a rainy Pisa, but our spirits are not dampened, at least some of our spirits are not dampened, and we prepare to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Note: As a young student in school, I was always mesmerized by pictures I would see of the Leaning Tower, and it was a dream of mine to see it at some point in my life, so rain was not going to stop me now.

As we get off the bus, we are surrounded by Africans hawking umbrellas to protect us from the rain, no matter that we had on rain gear and our own umbrellas. They could be rather forceful and intimidating, and we had to respond with a forceful "No!" at times. I could see where they could be rather scary to our little whitebred southern belle students. But isn't that the purpose of travel, to be exposed to life and get out of our comfort zone? Remember that comfort zone statement! Anyway, we load on to a shuttle bus that takes us to a drop off point and then walk on to the old city gate of Pisa. Note: It is important to take in your surroundings as you walk in unfamiliar places, i.e. keep you mouth shut and watch where you are going. We walk along the old city wall and then look to the left and see the Leaning Tower, framed by an archway. We enter through the arched gate, and there is the picture I had gazed upon so many times. I had finally made it to see The Leaning Tower of Pisa.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa bathed in the rain.

It is still raining, and the faint of heart decide they have seen enough. Not me. In my own words, "I have not come this far for a drive by look at the Leaning Tower." I purchase my ticket with several others from our group and prepare to tour the Baptistery, Church and the Tower. We learn that we are too late to go up into the tower but can tour the inside of the other two structures. I have my obligatory picture made with my traveling buddies and head out to see the sites as they head back to the bus. Sissies!

Cathy, DK and Shirley at the Leaning Tower of Pisa

Those who know me well, know what a detail person I am, so when I visit a museum or point of interest, I read every plaque and look intently at every statue and painting. It is no different here. I wander the Baptistery and the Church and walk around the Tower, looking at it from every angle. It is still raining, and the sun is starting to fade. Time to go. Where is my crew? Which way do I get back to the drop off? "Do you speak English? ", "Inglese?", "Dove la polizia?" Yes, I am officially separated from my group. Notice I do not say lost. I know where I am. I just can't get back to my group. Okay, what to do? My rational self says, "Stay here. Do not wander the streets tryinig to find your way!" My spiritual self prays to God to keep me safe and put good people in my path. My mortal self says, "You have messed up royally!", and I am really out of my comfort zone.

I stand in the rain for 45 minutes talking to my self, asking for directions to the bus drop off from vendors and walking no more than two blocks in each direction trying to find the drop-off. I ask an ambulance driver to call the police for me. I think several times, "If only I had kept my mouth shut and paid attention to my surroundings, I would not be in this predicament." It is dark now, and I am soaked. A taxi ride to Florence will be too expensive, but I could take a train to Florence if I could get a taxi to take me to the train station. Where are the polizia? Yeah, they have no intention of coming and are laughing at the Americano stupido. Every scenario of how to catch up to my group runs through my mind. Then out of the dark and rain I hear, "DK!" I turn to see John Brindley, my beautiful beautiful friend Shirley, and backup man, Robert Sledge. "Yes, Lord you are good!; I am rescued!" They inform me that a bus load of concerned folks is waiting on me and Mary Ruth is near tears, imagining every worse scenario from the Africans dragging me off to my wandering the streets alone. We start back and I realize my path to the bus drop off is as simple as following the city wall. Duh!!!!

A group sigh of relief goes up when everyone sees my red coat, and as I get on the bus there is a silence followed by several hushed,"Thank God!" Tears are rolling down Mary Ruth's checks, and she hugs me out of relief that she doesn't have to call my husband and tell him she lost me, or should I say I lost myself. Now that she is relieved, she is ready to kill me, never mind our 20 year friendship. An hour late we leave Pisa, headed for Florence with a bus load of relieved adults and hungry kids.

Well, I have seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa and can check that off my Bucket List. Now, I need to figure out how to get back in MR's good graces and profess my mea culpas!

Okay, I know you're asking, "Why didn't you just call someone on the bus?" I didn't have a phone. Only one person brought a phone with international minutes, and I did not have that number. I also did not have the local number of the bus driver or the number of EuroAmerican, who could have gotten in touch with the bus driver. We had not really made a group plan of what to do if we got separated from our group. Needless to say, all this was covered before our next day.

Several people asked me if I cried. Those of you who know me, know that I cry quite easily when I talk about my spiritual faith, think about my family, or watch touching movies and tv programs. But, when I get in this type of situation, crying is the farthest emotion from my mind. I try to be as logical as possible, which is one of the reasons MR was so worried. She knew me too well to know that I would not show up without a good reason. The rest of the trip the question was, "Is DK with us?" or "Where is the red coat?"

After after a two hour bus ride, we arrive in the dark thanks to me, in Florence, throw our luggage in the hotel bar and walk to our restaurant to eat. What a wonderful way to end such a miserable day. We dine at the La Marmare Ristorante and begin with bread and olive oil and fresh ground pepper. Wine is ordered all around and we wait for the first course. The waiter brings a penne pasta with a cheesy sauce. I have to remember not to stuff myself because in Italian fashion there is another course coming. Next is a cut of beef smothered in a gravy with roasted potatoes. Our dessert is a like a flan custard with a chocolate sauce and powdered sugar. Yeah, it was a wonderful meal!!! It was even more wonderful because I only had eaten a pack of nabs and drank o.j. all day long.

We stroll back to the hotel, but before arriving, Cathy manages to trip and fall. It is a very easy thing to do with the cobblestone streets and curbs. She doesn't hurt any bones but does a real number on her knee and manages to rip a tear in her jeans across the entire knee. We settle into room 203 of the River Hotel on the Arno River. We take our much-needed baths. Remember we haven't had a bath since we left the good ole US of A. After our baths we fall into our beds for the soundest sleep I have had in a long time.

#1 Thursday, March 6 We Are on Our Way

Okay, I don't care who you are; 4:00 am is too early for anyone to get up, even if we are leaving for Italy in an hour and a half. Anyway, I literally drag myself out of the bed to get ready. After two cups of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal (Oatmeal just does not taste as good at 4:00 am as it does around 8:30 am while I sit in my swing and watch the birds at the feeders.), I am ready to go. Lance gets me loaded up after twenty questions of, "Do you have . . . ?", and we pick up Mrs. Mary Kat and head to Indianola Academy.

We check in with Debbie to prove we have our passports and money and then scout out a spot on the bus. My traveling buddies Shirley and Cathy arrive, and after hugs and kisses all around, we are Atlanta bound. We ride for six hours discussing every topic under the sun, while for me re-establishing some acquaintances in some cases and forming new friendships in others. We eat our box lunches and arrive at the airport to get checked-in and wait to board our plane for an eight-hour flight. We get settled in our seats and are on our way.

Shirley, Cathy, Mrs. Mary Kat and DK: Look out Italy! Here we come.

Naturally, in trying to teach me patience, the Lord to whom I am giving credit along with the airline, puts me in the middle seat of a three-seat row. "Stuck in the middle with you" runs through my mind as the Italian man to my right manages to use me for a pillow for half the flight, and while the woman next to me, who is pleasant enough, struggles to get out of the seat each time I need to get up to go to the restroom or to walk around to fight off cabin fever and getting stiff (Getting stiff is what happens to us older people, and it keeps our lives interesting.). Note: There is something unnatural about traveling in such close quarters and trying to sleep, one of the most intimate and vulnerable times in our daily routine. I am renewing my promise to myself to fly first class at least one time in my life. I hope my pocket book will agree. Two movies later (August Rush and Jane Austen Book Club) the morning finally dawns over the Alps as we begin our descent to the Milan airport.

"I'm Back!"

In the words of the Terminator, "I'm back!" Our group returned to the states from Italy on Sunday at 3:30 p.m. Atlanta time, and we arrived in Indianola at 1:00 a.m. to the open arms of our families. It really goes without saying, but I will say it anyway, we had a great time! No, we had a fantastic time!!!! If I could have a day or two of rest, I would return in a heartbeat. The country was beautiful, the food was great and the fellowship was unmatchable (Is there such a word?). This is a short post to let all my avid readers (yeah, right) know I will be posting my journal little by little with some pics. Overall the weather was great after the first few days of rain and the sites were amazing. The Leaning Tower of Pisa will forever stay etched in my mind; story to follow, and I plan to try cooking every dish I tasted along the way. I think I have some Italian blood running in my veins. There are a few questions I am pondering: Why are there no wash rags in the hotel bathrooms?, Why do the Italian toliets have no handle with which to flush the toliet?, Why is a bath not an everyday routine for the Italians?, Why do the Italians have such beautiful children?, How do the Italians fit in such small cars?, Will the American dollar ever become stablized enough for us not to have to spend $4.50 for a canned coke? Yes, $4.50!!!