spoleto and sunday

On Saturday we went to Spoleto.  We hiked all the way up to the top of the town and then up even higher to the old castle-fort overlooking Spoleto and an ancient Roman aqueduct below.  There Joey gave us a very informative tour of the medieval Rocca, including such characters as Abraham Lincoln and Genghis Khan.  We made our way back to Spoleto via an elevator that we wished we'd found earlier.

Our timing was off again, and most of Spoleto was closed.  We managed to find one little cafe where Mallory, Joey and I drank beer and thawed out while we waited for naptime to end.  We found an open shop and bought ricotta and truffles.  Then the shop next door opened and we found more truffles and cheese in there.  Owned by the cutest old lady who pointed at a photograph of a little girl, touched her chest and said, "Me Na-na," the store was full of great souvenirs which we were happy to buy.  Then she recommended to Joey (our translator) the restaurant across the street for wine tasting and appetizers.  We happily obliged, and she waddled over to unlock it with her key.  Nana turned on the lights and headed to the kitchen, where she prepared our antipasti.

With Nana.  She's in Fodor's travel guide - she showed us.

We left Nana and wandered back to the car, stopping to find dessert along the way.  Unfortunately it was too early in the evening and the restaurants we tried weren't willing to give up a table for people only eating dulce.  So we spent the rest of the night at Casa San Gabriel drinking wine and playing cards. 

Sunday we decided to lay low.  It had been a packed eight days and we all needed a break from the toaster.  Dad and Joey got up early and brought back pastries, which we shared with Mom and Mallory after Mass.  Later in the afternoon, Mallory, Joey and I went for a long hike to try to mitigate maybe one of the cannoli.  Everybody except me played cards late into the night - I needed a little quiet time and headed to bed early - we were going to Florence in the morning!
For my Spoleto pictures, click here.

orvieto

Our seventh day in Italy we went to Oriveto, home to not only some tasty wine but a pretty fabulous cathedral too.  Like most of the other ancient towns in Umbria and Tuscany, Orvieto was built on top of a huge hill, and only those who live there are permitted to drive up.  Luckily, some brilliant engineer installed an unending succession of escalators within the massive city walls, and we avoided burning off any unnecessary pasta calories by using that.

Though the town was mostly empty when we arrived (we had developed a bad habit of always showing up during siesta), the cutest array of artsy boutiques opened soon after we'd visited the cathedral, and we spent our afternoon and early evening in Orvieto much like we spent every other, wandering, shopping, eating and drinking.   

Casa San Gabriel is situated near many old castles, and earlier in the day we'd asked one of the caretakers about them.  He told us we could eat in one, so we headed there for dinner.  Although we were a little disappointed when the castle restaurant actually wasn't within the walls of the castle (the whole property belonged to a country club), our disappointment was quickly abated by the arrival of free prosecco and prosciutto.  That was followed by

the.most.amazing.steak.I.have.ever.eaten.in.my.entire.life.and.I'm.from.Iowa.  Oh my God I would fly back to Rome and drive to Umbertide right now for that steak (especially after a week of eating only fruits and vegetables, but I digress).  Add the homemade limoncello and it was another great night in Italy with the people I love.

Click here for all of my pictures from Orvieto

perugia round two

Thursday we got kind of a late start.  Might have had something to do with all the food the night before.

The plan had been to visit the Perugina chocolate factory in Perugia.  We got there at just the right time, but unfortunately we were told the tour guide was sick and so we couldn't go take the tour.  Bummer!  What ever would we eat?

We drove from the ugly, industrial outskirts of Perugia up the hill and into it's lovely historic center.  Then we promptly turned around because we'd accidentally driven into a resident's only zone.  We parked the car halfway down the hill and hiked back up for a late tortellini lunch.

The five of us spent the afternoon wandering, shopping and taking pictures.  A lonely old man in a three-quarter length fur coat, bow-tie, cap and cane tried to strike up a conversation with Dad, and I surprised myself when I told him that my dad doesn't speak Italian and was even able to answer where Dad was from when the man asked.  Two points for Rosetta Stone and two points for me.  Mom took a picture of the interaction but I didn't realize until I saw it how much my ass was hanging out of my sweater dress so I'm not posting it here.

I'm not really sure what was going on that day, but I looked like a 1980's prom queen with that coat and hair.

When dusk settled we all hiked down to the parking garage, and made the most important discovery of our trip-to-date: gelato.  Six days into our trip and we hadn't found gelato until now.  We all promptly made up for that deficit with huge scoops of deep, dark chocolate.

Click for pictures from Perugia

a cooking class

The first few days, my hat, gloves, scarf and coat kept me warm enough from the welcome chill and change from sub-Saharan Africa.  Not Wednesday.  The weather shifted and whatever front rolled in brought frigid temperatures and icy winds with it.  Luckily, we were only outside a few minutes before Dana found us and took us into her friend's cafe for cappuccinos.

A few months earlier, I inquired about a cooking class at Casa San Gabriel.  Dana, an American nurse-turned-pastry chef, and her boyfriend, an Italian chef named Melchiorre, were recommended, and we'd arranged to meet at the local market on Wednesday to buy fresh fruits and vegetables for the meal we'd prepare together.  After brief introductions we ventured back into the cold and Dana guided us through the Umbertide weekly market.  Then Dana gave us her phone number and told us when and where to go next.

Within the tiny square of old Umbertide for the market

After a lazy afternoon and a little difficulty finding Melchiorre's apartment (Joey saved the day again by stopping a random guy in a tracksuit in front of the butcher's shop and asked for help - neither man speaking the other's language), we reuinted in their cozy kitchen with a toast of Prosecco next to a huge fireplace.  Then the fun and feast really began.

Joey watching while Mom grates chocolate over the tiramisu

Do you think they're Italian?  Melchiorre and my two favorite guys, rolling out the ravioli.

Dad, mid sentence.  Clearly making the ravioli and talking are not things he can do simultaneously.  That's okay.  This lefty had it down, driving the ravioli cutter, "like a Ferrari," per Melchiorre's instruction.

With Mallory, Mel and Joey giggling in the background.

While Melchiorre helped and Dana translated, we made two different kinds of ravioli, linguine, fresh asparagus with quail eggs and tiramisu.  Add to that the fresh, fire-roasted pecorino with quince marmalade, grilled pork chops, pork ribs, orange and fennel salad that Melchiorre and Dana cooked and I don't think any of us ever needed to eat again.  We drank bottles of wine while we cooked and bottles of wine while we ate.  Then Dana and Melchiorre served after-dinner drinks and the seven of us sat around their rustic wooden table next to the fire and told stories and laughed together more like family than new-found friends.  By the end of the evening when Melchiorre played his accordion, a shared love for food, wine, Italian culture and their mothers had transcended the language barrier, creating memories that would last far longer than the food in our bellies.

Click here for all of my pictures from our cooking class

gubbio, perugia round 1, montone and umbertide

Tuesday was a packed day.  Everybody woke up early to hit the road for Gubbio's morning market.  Along the drive, we realized the other half of why we got such a good deal on the rental car.  A light in the dashboard kept flashing, "Stop," and we couldn't figure out why (or why stop?).  It had flashed a few times in the two days prior, but only once or twice while we slowly drove down the muddy gravel road from the villa to the highway; upon reaching the highway, the light stopped flashing.  Until the drive to Gubbio, that is.  Then the light flashed pretty much the whole drive.  Everything else seemed normal and we were unable to discern anything from the manual (maybe because it was in Italian?), so we called the rental company en route.  They told us not to operate the car and that they'd exchange it for us in Gubbio.

So we parked the car in Gubbio and headed off to the market.  We wandered the stalls of clementines, artichokes, sardines and Umbrian smoked porchetta, then warmed up with espressos and cappuccinos.  Joey got a call from the rental car company, so we all walked back to where we'd parked the car.

A tow truck arrived, but the replacement vehicle had not.  After many minutes of arguing with the rental company over the phone, Joey was told we'd have to take a cab to the nearest rental car location in Perugia, where we could pick up the new car.  We decided that since we'd have to take a cab anyway, we'd explore the rest of Gubbio before making our way to Perugia.

Gubbio is situated upon a steep hill, and to get from one level of the town to the next, the Italians built elevators within the rock - how convenient!  Their signage could use a little work though, so it took me a few minutes to convince everyone that walking down the long, deserted, flourescent hallway would save us from climbing a million stairs.  But sure enough, after we rode the elevator up and walked down another creepy hallway, we emerged in the town square.  After a photo shoot of the square and City Hall we found a separate elevator, which we used to visit the Cathedral up even higher - and what fabulous views!  We took the elevator back to the second level and walked the rest of the way down from there.

I love this picture.  It's like the skies opened up and God shined down.

While waiting for a cab to Perugia we drank round two of espresso.  Sufficiently buzzed, we then stuffed ourselves into the tiny car that arrived (I sat in a pop-up seat in the trunk) and headed to the rental car station in Perugia.  Of course by the time we arrived all the people working were enjoying their afternoon nap, so we waited in a crappy little restaurant by the train station and watched the Italian version of Jerry Springer on the tv in one corner and the very tan, older man wearing eyeliner and a black wig in the other.  Once the people at the rental car station returned from their naps, Joey went in to haggle and Mallory, Mom, Dad and I waited some more.  Finally, at least an hour later, we got our replacement vehicle, and the five of us drove back to Casa San Gabriel in a giant, royal blue toaster.

We decided we'd have a snack and take a nap before driving to a different town, Montone, for dinner.  The toaster twisted and turned up the mountain road to Montone, and we parked it outside the city walls.  As we walked from one side of the dark maze of stone houses to the other, we realized Montone was closed.  Although it was barely 8:30, with the exception of a bar in the town square, absolutely nothing - nothing - was open.  It felt like we'd stumbled onto an empty movie set.  So back to the toaster we went, and to Umbertide we drove.

Montone's town square

By then it was almost ten and the historic center of Umbertide is even smaller than Montone; after trying the locked doors of three different restaurants it looked like we were out of luck.  We tried one more door down a dark, narrow street and walked into a candle-lit dining room with large photos from all over the world adding a pop of color and character to the white walls and white tablecloths.  Jazz played in the background of the empty restaurant; a young woman greeted us and warmly invited us to sit down despite the late hour.  She spoiled us with fresh ricotta; chocolate, hazelnut, and wine flavored bread before we even ordered our meal.  The menu sounded too good to resit ordering only a primi or secondi, so we splurged and ordered both.  And of course, many bottles of wine and dessert too.

It was after midnight when we finally left one of the best restaurants in which we'd eat the whole trip, but the near-perfect meal made up for a far-from-perfect day.  Here's the rest of my pictures from our Tuesday adventure.

montepulciano

Our intended destination Monday was Montepulciano.  We ended up in The Twilight Zone.

What a contrast to the packed streets of Rome and the Amalfi Coast this summer: Montepulciano was literally empty.  The first half hour we wandered the city and didn't encounter a single soul.  It was surreal.  Here is this incredible, ancient, walled city and we had it all to ourselves.

The people in this picture are my parents.  The only people in the town square.

This became a problem when it came time for lunch.

We eventually found a fantastic osteria and Joey's mood improved considerably.  Once she drank her wine, Mallory's did too.  

After lunch we set off in search of wine tastings.  We followed the signs to a huge door off the main square.  We rang the doorbell and were greeted by a surly middle-aged woman in a tracksuit.  She allowed us to tour the winery and then poured several different vintages of Montepulciano for us to taste.  When we asked her how old the winery was, she nonchalantly replied, "1,000 years."  Oh, is that all?

We found another open shop where the very friendly shopkeeper filled many, many glasses of wine.  Good thing we'd all had pasta for lunch!  

After another breathtaking sunset we got back in the car and headed toward our villa.  We stopped at one more winery along the way, where we bought some incredible Vin Santo.

That night Joey treated us to another yummy home-cooked meal.  We all turned in early, happy tummies full of food and wine.

Click here for all my pictures from Montepulciano.

assisi

The view from Mom, Dad and Mallory's cottage window on Sunday morning.
Our cottage is in the bottom right of the photo.

The next morning was Sunday, so we decided there'd be no better place to attend Mass than the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi.  One of the best things about the cottages we rented was its proximity to so many cool small towns in the Umbrian and Tuscan countryside, and we reached Assisi in less than an hour.

After Mass we ate lunch at a little trattoria, then spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the maze of Assisi.  We drove down from the beautiful town on the hill to its outskirts in a futile search for gelato, then headed back to our villa for the evening.

Looking up on the Basilica from the outskirts of Assisi

All the cool air and walking wore Mom and Dad out, so Mallory, Joey and I played cards and drank wine.  A little later Joey whipped up the first of many fabulous meals. 

Click here for all of my pictures from our first two days in Italy

reunited and it feels so good

I've been so blessed to share many amazing travel experiences over the last year with my best friend, and in late January I was lucky enough to share a trip to Italy with my family too.  My mom, dad, and sister, Mallory, met Joey and me at the airport in Rome and I'm pretty sure they were almost as excited to see us as they were to return to Italy.  Sadly, my other sister, Elizabeth, wasn't able to join us, although we kept her with us in spirit as we spent the next ten days touring the Italian countryside.

We'd arranged to meet my family at the Advantage rental car desk.  Unfortunately, we didn't realize that half of the reason we got such a good deal on the rental car was because Advantage is located off-site, so the first hour of our trip to Italy was spent running in circles, searching for the rental car desk and each other.  Joey and I decided to get the car - maybe my family had somehow managed to find the shuttle to the rental car station even though we couldn't figure that out without calling the phone number on the confirmation sheet - if they weren't there, we'd drive back to the airport and try to find them.

So we got the car and with no sign of my family headed back to the airport.  We parked the car in short-term parking and started walking toward the terminal in which my family had landed and I heard a familiar whistle - about fifty yards away Mallory and Dad stood waving.  Poor Mom had been placed in a different location to try to find Joey and me, so the four of us went back to the car and drove as close as we could to where she was waiting.  We decided to send Dad to get her, and they returned together about fifteen minutes later.  We exchanged more big hugs and set off for our home for the next eleven days: Umbertide (pronounced Oom-bear-tee-day).

How did people manage without cell phones?

We spent the next three hours in the car catching up, laughing and excitedly discussing our plans for the trip (which was more like Joey'd recruited three other people to make fun of my Excel vacation itineraries and European death marches).  We exited the main highway and as we twisted and turned according to the lovely voice of our friend, Garmin, we all wondered how people managed without GPS (it's interesting how we travel to Italy for the splendor of Roman history only to appreciate the convenience of today's technology).  But with the help of the Garmin and the directions from the caretakers, we managed to find Casa San Gabriel.

We pulled up to the villa in the valley where we'd rented two cottages as the sun set, casting a brilliant red and orange hue over the mountains, cypress trees and ancient stone hamlets that surrounded us.  After dropping off our suitcases, we all piled back in the car and headed back into town to stock up on groceries and eat dinner.

Taking Joey into a grocery store in Italy is like taking a kid to a candy store; I imagine trying to pry a child away from the shiny and colorful sweets is like trying to pry my husband away from the meat and cheese counters.  But one hour and massive cart-full of groceries later, we finally escaped.  We drove back toward our villa, spotting a sign for Pane e Vino, and figured it'd be worth a try.  The restaurant was located in what appeared to be a deserted industrial park, but it looked like it had character and so we went inside.  We found a huge roaring pizza oven, bookshelves full of wine and white tablecloths.  Perfect!  We immediately ordered wine and pizza and pasta too, and spent the rest of the evening eating, drinking, and enjoying each other's company.

What should have been an uneventful drive back to Casa San Gabriel became far more interesting when Joey unknowingly turned the wrong way on a one-way road.  Although we didn't encounter any cars along the way, we did have a hell of a time getting up the hill.  Apparently the route to the villa from the highway is one-way because the incline is so steep; with the sharp drop-off looming precariously only a few feet away from where our wheels were spinning, I was truly afraid enough that I got out of the car.  Mallory and Mom soon followed, then Dad took the wheel and Joey got behind and pushed.  I was fairly certain I was watching my father kill my husband, but Dad got the car up the hill and around the corner, albeit not without a few jokes about the size of our asses or the capability of my husband.

.

all roads lead to rome

Ah, Roma.

But first we had to get there.  Luggage in tow, we disembarked the cruise ship, ready to explore my favorite city in the world.  The horrors of hauling our massive suitcases on and off trains still fresh in my mind, and two additional (and full) pieces of luggage in tow, I was determined to take a taxi into the city, even if my husband considered it a giant waste of 100 euro.  Perhaps it was sheer luck or perhaps Joey deliberately found the most repulsive taxi on the planet, but suddenly our luggage was loaded into a dirty, rusty, at least twenty-five year-old Fiat and Jabba the Hutt was behind the wheel.

This massive, wheezing blob of a man grunted and lit a cigarette.  I'm not sure what came over me, but I was already disgusted and unwilling to smell like an ashtray for the rest of the day, so I totally fibbed and said "Signore" and patted my belly as if I was pregnant.  He threw that cigarette out so fast I almost felt bad about my little white lie, but I figured it prevented him from his imminent heart attack at least for the rest of our drive.

Soon we were in Trastevere, where we checked into our hotel.  We spent the next three days exploring the parts of the city we hadn't seen the first time, including Trastevere and the Vatican, as well as re-visiting some of our favorites, including the Roman Forum and Trevi Fountain.  The last night of R&R we went back to the Cafe de Paris on Via Veneto, one of the first restaurants where we'd celebrated our honeymoon.  The pianist was just as talented and the meal just as romantic; it was a fitting end to an incredible journey with my best friend.

Click here for all of my Roman pictures.

the amalfi coast

Our cruise ship docked next in Salerno, Italy.  Initially we'd planned to take a ferry to Capri, but when we learned the ferry would take an hour and a half each way, my propensity to sea-sickness overruled our initial plans in favor of a closer destination: Amalfi.

Amalfi Cathedral

One cappuccino and one espresso later, we toured the grand cathedral, its cloister and chapel.   We drifted through the scenic sea-side town, stopping first for a Caprese salad and later for fresh lemon cream cake that tasted just like our wedding cake.

As we still had plenty of time before we had to meet the boat, we decided to take another ferry a little farther, to the even lovelier Positano.  We continued our gustation tour of the Amalfi Coast with some incredible pizza and lemon granita; in the meantime I found an incredible pair of handmade, hot-pink, Italian leather loafers.

In Positano

The ferry back to Salerno was completely miserable.  Dark clouds had rolled in, bringing with them bumpy waves on which we were stuffed like sardines.  I spent the entire hour with my head between my legs, praying I didn't have to take my pretty new shoes out of the yellow shopping bag to vomit.  But I made it to Salerno with all the food I'd eaten still gurgling in my belly.  We embarked on the cruise ship for the last time, headed to Rome for the final leg of our R&R.

As always, click here for the rest of my pictures from the Amalfi Coast.

portofino

Sunday was another early morning, as Joey and I squeezed in a short run before attending mass at the church where we got married.  The same priest with the giant ring of jangling keys who performed our rehearsal said mass. While we didn't understand him any more than the first time around, his passion and hand gestures transcended the language barrier.  After mass we enjoyed a capuccino before hopping on a boat to nearby, glitzy Portofino.

In Portofino we lunched at a boardwalk cafe while Joey gawked at the mega-yachts and I coveted every handbag that past.  We walked the manicured streets and peeked into ancient St. Martin's church before ascending to St. George's church on the hill.  After fighting a losing battle with the wind and my dress (yes, Mom, I was wearing underwear, but with not nearly the coverage I needed when my dress flew up and my husband chose to take pictures instead of help), we explored the nearby cemetery.  Still worn out after the Cinque Terre, Joey and I took the ferry back to Santa Margherita and spent our last evening there progressing through several cafes for several courses and several glasses of wine. 

Accidental flasher

Monday morning was our earliest yet; we had to fit in our long run before the 8 am train to Rome.  So at 5:45 we hit the pavement, and ran along the winding road to Portofino.  We had the whole of the Ligurian coast to ourselves; not even the fisherman were awake yet.  The rising sun shimmered over the cerulean sea; the waves crashed into the rocky coast while we ran in the crisp morning air.  It truly was the most amazing run of my entire life.

A few hours and two train rides later, we arrived in the port of Rome, Civitavecchia, for the next leg of our journey: time for the floating buffet!

Here's the link to all my picutres from our time on the Ligurian Coast: https://picasaweb.google.com/100586084762366858227/SantaMargheritaLigure?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCLqd-cmkhsmbgQE&feat=directlink

the cinque terre

Saturday morning Joey and I woke up early.  We'd planned to hike the Cinque Terre; therefore, the broken strap on my walking shoes could be ignored no more.  Good thing Santa Margherita has such cheap shopping!  For yacht owners...

Luckily we managed to find a cute pair of flat sandals with black and brown straps that seemed comfortable enough and didn't break the bank.  Unluckily, I chose not to follow my sisters', parents', or best friend's advice to skip the fashion for the Cinque Terre and just wear tennies.  Even more unfortunate for Joey was my decision not to share this piece of advice with him.  So a flip-flop clad Joey and I, in my cute new shoes, boarded the hour-long train to Vernazza.  Good thing I always carry band-aids in my purse.

Despite the bazillion other tourists who descended upon those same five remote towns that day (seriously, Europe in the fall), the bright colors and stunning views of each tiny village and its surroundings seemed to become more vibrant and more incredible as the day progressed.  I could not believe how blue the water was. 

Halfway between Vernazza and Corniglia.  That's Corniglia in the distance.

The first hour of the steep climb up the mountain between Vernazza and Corniglia was the easy part.  Try going down the other side of that mountain in inappropriate footwear when you are already spatially challenged and uncoordinated.  Even Joey, who is pretty hard to fluster, was mortified at my method of balance as I spread out my arms and hands and plopped one entire leg at a time down each step of the mountain.  I really tried to go down the steps like a normal person, but grace isn't one of my strong suits.

Although we'd scaled a small mountain in flip flops and 90 degree heat while dodging other sweaty people on narrow stairs that should not be shared, the scenery was well worth the effort.  We ambled through the second (technically third, but we skipped Monterosso) town, Corniglia, before we faced "more stairs than line the side of a Mayan pyramid," according to my guidebook, down which I would have to "flop," according to my husband, to reach the next town.  Off I flopped, and we were on our way to Manarola.

The trail to Manarola from Corniglia continues behind the Cornigilia train station, where we found several signs that the trail was closed.  Of course this all didn't register until after we watched the only train for the next half an hour leave, so faced with climbing back up the Mayan pyramid or a bench at the train station, we sat.  I'm not going to lie: I was considerably, disgustingly, sweaty; probably just as smelly (I wasn't about to put my nose in my armpit to find out); my feet were blistered; my shoulders sunburned and my stomach growling (I'd read in my guidebook to find a cafe in the next town so we'd only grazed through the morning - ha, oops).  So as much as I'd originally wanted to hike all the way from Vernazza to Riomaggiore, I wasn't devastated that we had to cheat a little. 

While we sat and waited for our train, the number of would-be hikers increased, and another girl, maybe about 14 years-old, sat next to me on the bench.  Joey and I continued our conversation, and as it reached a lull, the girl looked over at me and said, "I'm from Norway." 

That's all.  Completely matter-of-fact and even more out of the blue. 

Not much for small talk with people I do know, I replied with the nicest thing I could think of: "Okay?" 

And that was the extent of our conversation. 

Joey gave me the "Do you know her" look, to which I replied with the "WTF" look, after which we stifled our snickering until the train came.

Outside Manarola

In Manarola we stopped for gelato.  I ordered a large cone of my favorite: Amarena.  The gorgeous Italian woman behind the counter blessed with long legs and the ability to eat pasta all day every day in her Gucci size 2 pants replied, "you know that's three scoops, right?"

Are you saying something?  Because I just hiked a mountain and I live in Africa.

We drifted from Manarola along the "Via dell'Amore" to the last town, Riomaggiore, where we saw a bride posing for pictures with a huge bouquet of lavender.  Then we took the last train back to Santa Margherita, for naps, showers, and another romantic evening along the Ligurian Sea.

santa margherita ligure

I'd been nervous to return to Santa Margherita Ligure.  I worried that somehow the anticipation and exhilaration that only a bride can feel had softened the edges of my already wonderful memories of the town where Joey and I were married.  My fears that I'd remembered Santa Margherita as fondly and without fault as a mother sees her child, however, were allayed the moment we exited the train station.  Santa Margherita Ligure, with its bright blue skies and puffy white clouds, pastel-colored houses nestled in the rolling green hills, and tall palm trees lined against the azure Ligurian Sea, remained just as breathtaking as it had been on our wedding day.

After much-needed naps and showers, Joey and I strolled hand-in-hand along the shops and cafes lining the waterfront.  We watched the sun set as we dined on Ligurian pesto and gnocchi and carbonara and fresh fish.  Then we climbed the thousand stairs back up to our church.  I can't explain the calm that I felt as Joey held me on the stoop of the church; we sat together in silence for a long time and just watched the moon. 

This posting has been very, very trying for me.  Living in Abuja, compounded by all of the stress from three moves in 6 months, leaving my entire family and everything I had ever known, and moving to Africa, challenged me more than I ever expected.  And when your one constant, the only person with you through it all, also happens to be the only person with you through it all, that person gets to see the good, the bad, and the ugly.  And I can get really.  Really.  Ugly.  So I'm not the only one who suffered during the first six months of our tour.  Joey suffered too.  And so did our marriage. 

I suppose I wasn't afraid as much that Santa Margherita had lost her charm;  I suspect, deep down, I worried that Santa Margherita wouldn't heal the wounds inflicted from this posting, and that we'd leave as bitter as we'd arrived.  I knew that it wasn't Joey's fault that we got posted where we did; I'd had an equal say in his bid list.  But just because your mind knows something doesn't mean your heart will believe it.

But I do believe in true love, and I believe even more that I married my soul-mate.  And maybe it was Santa Margherita or maybe it was our church.  Maybe it was the sea or maybe it was the full moon.  Maybe it was our lovely, old memories or maybe it was the new ones we created this time around.  Nevertheless, three days later when we boarded our train to Rome, Joey and I knew we were going to be okay.

I think it was love.

lessons learned

Travel lessons I should have learned the first time we schlepped around Italy:

1. Train rides suck.  They make me feel like I drank all the vodka in Russia the night before, whether or not I consumed a drop of alcohol.  They are crowded, generally stinky (although after 6 months here, my tolerance for BO is now as high as a Russian's tolerance for vodka), and just altogether unpleasant.  Whose brilliant idea was it to plan a 9-hour train ride from Provence to Santa Margherita? 

2. Europe is not handicap-friendly.  And big, heavy suitcases are big-ass handicaps.  The same brilliant person who planned the 9-hour train ride thought it would be much easier to just lug one bigger suitcase (each) instead of having to juggle two smaller suitcases (each).  Maybe, until the 9-hour train ride included 4 stops, which meant five separate times Joey had to heave my 60-lb suitcase and his 60-lb suitcase down the staircase to the train platform, up into the train, down out of the train and back down one staircase and up another staircase to the next platform.  In 90-degree heat.  Oops.

Yeah, just because Aix-en-Provence is close to the French Riviera, and Santa Margherita is on the Italian Riviera does not mean you should take a train between them.  Maybe if you take a day in Nice.  Or maybe if a direct train overnight existed (it doesn't), it might be a tolerable trip.  But definitely don't do it the way we did.  By the time we left Aix-en-Provence and stopped in Nice, Ventimiglia and Genoa before arriving in Santa Margherita, we were completely and utterly exhausted.  And I didn't even carry the suitcases.  Which brings me to #3:

Pick one destination and stay there.  Going from A to B to C to D to E is expensive, it's exhausting, and by the end of the trip, it's just plain annoying.  Packing and unpacking and repacking your suitcase gets progressively harder, especially if you buy any sort of souvenir.  Particularly if you've been in Nigeria for six months and are struck, first numbly, and then overwhelmingly, by your innate, American consumerism that sat dormant during the last several months.  Trust me.  Go somewhere you can explore for a few days and from where you can easily explore a few other destinations for a few days.   A to B to A to C is infinitely easier.

Oh, and wearing high heels because your travel shoes are broken and you'll have slightly more room in your suitcase is beyond inane.  Who would be dumb enough to do that?