Italy: Naples Bound

After a couple of days, we waved goodbye to Rome and headed to Naples, Pompeii, and the Amalfi Coast in Italy.  We reserved spots on a three day tour with a company that Ben found on the Internet. The tour company's website promised fun and plenty of sightseeing. The feedback provided by vacationers on the website seemed real. Everything seemed legit. We crossed our fingers and prayed when Ben entered our credit card information and the charges appeared.

You can imagine how we rejoiced when a big, white charter bus actually did arrive at our hotel.  We cheered!  We high-fived!  We sighed with relief. The tour company was real! Our fear of being ripped off while abroad proved unfounded. Whew.

The tour bus drove a few hours and first stopped in Naples.  We walked around for a bit and viewed some old buildings.  Checked out an old castle or two, the norm by now.  Like Rome, ancient structures intermingled with new construction.  Naples was nice, but one afternoon satisfied me. Pompeii and the Amalfi Coast were waiting...

Italy: Unholy Art Thou... Again

On our last day in Rome, we visited a cathedral close to our hotel. Again, as we entered the church, an officer at the door shook his head and motioned to my outfit. Sigh.

I did not doubt that Italy would rejoice in my departure. 

Fortunately, this cathedral provided a basket of free scarves for those improperly dressed... like me. I grabbed a couple of scarves and instinctively wrapped them around me.  Been there, done that.

We toured the cathedral with Ben always a couple of steps ahead of me.  I had wrapped the white, gauzy scarf tightly around my legs, which left little legroom to walk.  I shuffled from painting to painting and kept my hands in a prayer position to keep the top scarf from sliding down my shoulders.

I not only looked holy, but felt holy.

I quickly shuffled behind Ben and happened to look up as we passed a large group of nuns.  As I passed the last nun, she slowed her pace and carefully examined me. I slowed, too, bowed slightly and met her gaze. We studied each other for a minute and then both nodded.

It was as if we acknowledged each other's holiness, accepted one another as sisters. We shared a moment. She considered me nun material.

I then realized I just may have missed my calling.  

Can't get any holier than this.

Inside the cathedral.

Ben by the alter.

Italy: Unholy Art Thou

We visited Vatican City in Rome.  First, we moseyed around the outside and took pictures.  Then, we joined the line to enter St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican.  We stood in line for only a couple of seconds before a random woman ran over to proclaim that I was dressed inappropriately.

Didn't this already happen to me?  Yes, yes it did.  Ben and I looked at each other.

The woman pointed to my tank top and bare shoulders.  She shook her head "no."  Then, she waved her hand toward my shorts and exposed knees.  Again, she shook her head "no." I was too risque for Venice and now too risque for Vatican City. Basically, I was just too risque for Italy.

Ben shook his head.  We asked the woman what to do.  Naturally, she recommended purchasing one of the $20 scarves draped across her arm.  I immediately responded... "No way.  I live in New York and they sell those on the corner for five bucks."

Ben threw up his hands and shot me a look that I interpreted as "you'll spend that much on ice cream, but you won't pay that to get us in one of the greatest cathedrals ever built."  I shook my head.  We turned and walked a couple of blocks before finding a small gift shop that sold me the exact same scarf for $5.

So, I bought two.

I bought two, but not because I wanted to buy two.  I needed one to cover my shoulders and another to cover my knees.  My Puma sneakers complimented my old peasant woman getup pretty nicely.

Thankfully, my new outfit did the trick and allowed me access to St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican.  I believe even St. Peter would let me pass through the Pearly Gates of Heaven in that outfit.  I do believe.

Ben in front of St. Peter's Basilica

Fashion statement

Inside St. Peter's Basilica

Inside St. Peter's Basilica

Inside St. Peter's Basilica

Inside the Vatican

Ben joined the line of great men in the Vatican

View from a Vatican window

Stairs in the Vatican museum

View of St. Peter's Basilica from a Vatican window

View of the Vatican from another part of the Vatican

Italy: No Crybabies in Rome

Tears trickled down my face as I boarded a train with Ben and we waved goodbye to Sebastian, Megan, Cortona, and probably the best couple days of my life.  Thankfully, Ben didn't capture that on film. My face pressed to the window, my ponytail askew with red and puffy eyes, as I waved goodbye to Sebastian who stood on the platform and probably thought "good riddance."

Our train sped straight to the next stop on our journey, Rome. I started to get excited for Rome, but it took work (so ungrateful sounding, I know). I wasn't ready to trade a small town for the big city.

The train pulled into the station in Rome and we trekked about a half mile to our hotel. Ben compared the area to midtown in NYC, and I agreed.  Busy, loud, and full of tourists. People set up tables and sold everything from "I Love Rome" T-shirts to plastic magnets to scarves with a city map printed on them.

I had to immediately adjust my perspective because no one in Rome was going to bring me a fresh plate of prosciutto and melon or wave hello like they did in Cortona.  Nope, definitely not.  Probably pickpocket first and greet later. Hence, I gripped my suitcase handle a little tighter.

We found our hotel after a few wrong turns and lugged our suitcases to our room. Clark Griswald, I mean Ben, listed the planned events of the day.  First, a bus tour.  Bus tours, I agreed with Ben, proved the best way to see and learn about a new place.

The problem was that my brain continually equated bus time to nap time. I conked out on every bus, whether we boarded for 5 minutes or 5 hours.  Once again, Ben voiced displeasure about my narcoleptic moments when in such a magnificent part of the world, and I responded with my usual line of "I'm on vacation." I then mentally thanked Ben for his efforts to keep me awake because, without him, I would have looped endlessly around umpteen European cities on tour buses and never saw anything. But, I couldn't admit that. 

We hopped on and off the bus tour to see some pretty fantastic and mind blowing sights.  Pictures below.

Awoken from a nap on the bus tour and forced at camera-point to smile in front of the colosseum.

Rome (and the colosseum) made Ben giddy.

The colosseum shone at night.

We glimpsed the Vatican "from a distance" (cue Bette Midler's song...).

Italy: Model Mania

Just wanted to share a few more photos of Megan and Sebastian. It's funny how the camera really captures personalities.  How the lens views them.

You can glean from photos that Megan has a sweet disposition and calm personality. She radiates a soft light that soothes you.

Sebastian, on the other hand, is more like disco ball that comes in 40 different colors and spins in 20 directions.

Italy: Joy

I love a lot of things... popcorn shrimp, Two-Buck Chuck, kittens, dirty jokes, and B-grade movies.

I can now add one more to the list.

Cortona.

Cortona makes me this happy.

Italy: Family Style

My favorite night in Italy happened in Cortona.  Sebastian and Megan invited us to a Ghezzi family get-together at Sebastian's parents' home about 20 minutes outside of the city, a legit Italian dinner.

Upon arrival, communication seemed daunting.  Sebastian's family only spoke Italian and Ben and I only spoke English.  But, interestingly, after several courses of home cooked food and endless bottles of wine, we understood each other perfectly fine.  Hugs, handshakes, and laughter abounded. Amazing, how fermented grapes can do that.

We ate dinner outside their several hundred year old home, surrounded by olive trees and vineyards.  Sebastian's uncle brought homemade prosciutto and olive oil, which I added to every bite because of its deliciousness and its ability to prevent wrinkles (a rumor I once read somewhere). Sebastian's mom carried out endless courses of food - pastas, salads, meats, and breads.

I foresaw an expanding belly and purposefully wore a dress with an elastic waistline to dinner. I did not want to limit my gluttony when surrounded by a plethora of good food. Priorities.

Below is a picture of the Ghezzi family and myself sans Ben (he was behind the lens).

Italy: Under the Tuscan Sun

The title of this post references the book (later made into a movie) written by Frances Mayes.  She moved to Cortona and bought a house just minutes outside of the city walls. Frances lived in a fixer upper, but we stayed in a place fit for a king.

Sebastian and Megan put us in one of the local B&Bs just blocks from the Piazza Repubblica. The B&B, Dolce Maria, rocked.

Ben and I giggled with excitement as the owner, Paola, led us through archways and around century old furniture to reach our room. We tried to act like staying at a place that nice was customary for us, but let's be real. I squealed loudly when Paola threw open the window's five foot wooden shutters to reveal hundreds of clay roofs and the Tuscan hills.

Every morning, Paola and her mother baked enough Italian goodies to cover a table.  Paola's mother, who spoke only Italian, conversed with Ben during every breakfast. I listened and tried to follow along, but my constant chewing on the endless supply of pastries often dampened their voices. So, I didn't learn as much Italian as planned.

Below are some room pics.

Frances Mayes' house post renovation. We drove by to check it out.

Italy: Another Photo Shoot

Cortona offered some pretty spectacular views.  And, you know what that means... photo shoot.  I can hear my dad sighing right now.  He once said that he would vomit into his morning bowl of cereal if he read one more blog post that included a photo shoot of Ben and I. Ha ha, dad!  Barf away.

Every turn onto a different cobblestone street yielded a more perfect backdrop.  Every nook and cranny begged for a picture.  Okay, that last statement was a tad dramatic, but I made my point.

Below are some pictures from our walks around Cortona.

Italy: Baubles, Baby!

Since Megan and Sebastian own a jewelry shop, Ben thought it best to surprise me with a little something special for our 4th wedding anniversary, which happened shortly upon returning to American soil. Of course, I thought that was a most excellent idea.  (Cue big smiles and hands rubbing furiously together in heightened anticipation.)

Striking designs and shiny jewels abounded.  I could hardly, HARDLY, contain my excitement.  I feared the 3,000 year old Etruscan stone walls that surround Cortona would explode from my elation.

I ogled.

Sebastian worked on a sweet deal.

Megan kept a careful eye on me.

 Sebastian convinced Ben to buy the whole store for his incredible, wonderful, and deserving wife.

Ben escaped the store and enjoyed coffee (?) or perhaps a little something else to calm his nerves.