As I mentioned in the last blog entry, Sunday is a day of leisure for myself and the missus. Not that the entire vacation isn't a getaway. But, if you'd completed as many kilometers on foot as we have, you wouldn't be surprised if your heart, brain and body weren't all on the same page. We've logged some mileage on our quest to conquor Italy, both in the air and on the ground. But, as I mentioned before, it's probably the best way to see it.
As we walk the streets, we see the hordes of people packed on open air tour buses, whizzing by all the sites. It's like being in a Major League Ballpark when Barry Bonds was chasing Hammering Hank's Home Run record- all of the bulbs are flashing in one big wave as people try to catch snaps of the key attractions, so that they would not have to travel back on foot the next day. I tell you, if there were any birds in the area, they're blind now.
As promised, this blog will highlight some of the small details that have been as key to our experience as the huge examples of the vastness of the Roman Empire spread all over town. Below are some observations, quick recounts of some of the people we've had the chance to talk to and the "favorite places and things to do" in Roma! Enjoy.
I'll ask the Keisha's opinion on these later, and we have yet to get to Trastevere (the second half of our stay in Italy) and Florence (which we plan to trek to on Tuesday), but:
Fontana di Trevi (Trevi Foutain):it's a few short blocks away from our hotel, and is one of the major attractions in Rome. Every day the piazza is packed with tourists, and people trying to sell touristy stuff. It's alwaya a buzz. The first day or two, you are one of the many. But, after a few days walking around and drinking in the culture, you feel like you belong and, therefore, it should be there just for you to enjoy. Some of the shops and places to eat are great as well. Each morning, Keisha and I hit a spot near the Fountain for some breakfast, then park it by the Trevi Fountain. We might even hit a nearby cafe for a cup of tea or cappuccino. Amazing. When we post the pics, you'll see why.
"Fromaggi. Pane.": Cheese. Bread. That's all the sign reads atop the entrance of this boutique shop down the street from Trevi. We go there to get our morning rations. Freshly baked bread, healthy Italian cheeses, assorted meaty goodness and, of course, all of the specialy provisions you'd find at a Di Bruno Brothers shop at home. Of course, Keisha loves it. But, we have a luggage weight limit and no fridge in the hotel, so we'll be bringing back only memories.
Gelato Supreme: There is a "home made" gelato place up one of the side streets that lead away from the Pantheon(for those of you who do not know, gelato is an Italian ice cream, but with a greater addictive quality). Saturday night, Keisha and I hit the streets to find it again. We got turned around a couple of time, saw a couple of new treasures, nearly sprained our ankles and stumbled on it again. They charge a reasonable price, the portions are huge, and the taste is just...wow! A colleague of mine mentioned that a gelato place in Florence is the best in Italy. Tuesday will be judgement day.
Via del Corso: It,s one of the major arteries in Rome. Walk along Via Del Corso long enough, and you'll find a shortcut to neary every major attraction on this side of the Fiume Tevere (Tevere River). Not to mention the fact that it's one of the (if not the) major shopping districts in Rome. Stores are packed with wears from every major international and local designer. There is a shopping mall (for Americans who need to work their way up to Via del Corso's energy and pace), but the bulk of the great finds are located on the ground. Tons of people fill Via del Corso to shop, chill and catwalk. It's like South Street with a purpose, Downtown Brooklyn packed with everyone from the other four boroughs. It's so obscene, that traffic cannot make it down the street, and a sea of shoppers cover every square inch of street. Truly amazing the latitude that pedestrians have here, whether it's on Via del Corso, or anywhere else.
Petit Ristorante: Another great find near Fontana De Trevi. We ate lunch there on our first day here, and was back at the counter by Friday. We even tried to go for dinner last night, but they were closed. Sadly many shops are closed on Sunday, and will not reopen until Monday afternoon. So, we may not be able to sample their cuisine again until our next trip to Italy. Authentic Italian Food (and vino!) at a great price. Win. Win.
On this subject, there is a rule that rings true: "Eat where the locals eat, not where tourists eat." Hard to believe you can have a bad experience with food in Rome, but we did. That's because we broke the rule. On our jaunt back from the Colosseo, we decided to stop at a little restaurant lining one of the side streets. Red and white checkered tablecloths, a guitarist playing in the small piazza (he belonged to the other restaurant, but he was close enough to entertain us) and not Italians dining there! Tourists filled every table- probably suckered in like we were. But, a great gelato from our trusty nook helped to put it all behind us.
Roma Is Lovin' It!: On our way to our tour bus (tour of Vatican City on Friday), the driver started pointing out some of the sites, like the Public Square and some statues. Then, he pointed to "a typical restaurant in Italy." To our surprise, it was a McDonald's restaurant, which was jam packed with customers. We laughed at first. But, when he mentioned that there were 27 Mickey D's around Rome, we all felt kind of sad. Now, our ad agency has McDonald's as a client, so I was down to try it at least once, just to see how different it was from the States' version. Keisha would not have it. I still might sneak in a small french fries, just to see if the formula made it across the pond. But, all I can say for now is that they are much cleaner establishments and, more often than not, provide plenty of space for eating- including outdoor bistro tables. Funny!
There is a price for resting your bones: If you go into a restaurant here that offers the option of sitting at a bar, or standing, you better choose the former. That is, unless you're rolling in it. Sit down, and the food will cost more. This did not happen at Petit, because it's sitting room only, and is kind of short on space anyway. But, for the rest of them (at least the ones we encountered), you should make sure you know what you're paying for when the waiter asks "table for two?"
Here versus There: Not that we do not hear about the differences all the time. But, out of the mouth of Johnny, the stories are pretty funny. Johnny works here in the Hotel Julia. He spent a years in the US, and was almost arrested for drinking a glass on wine with his sandwich outside of a Food Lion in Jersey (public drinking is like breathing here). We was also startled by the flock of police that rallied to him on I-95, when his car started to smoke due to an oil leak (he didn't know that this is standard procedure, and not an act of racial profiling). He also talked about a "masterpiece of God" he met at a club in North Carolina who, as it turned out, swung more ways than an pendulum. But, aside from his exploits, Johnny has been great at pointing us in the right direction, whether we're searching for an attraction, or the nearest hardware store to find a universal adaptor to plug in my made-for-American electronic devices into Italian outlets.
If I do get to blog before the flight home on Thursday, I will likely post something on Wednesday, after our trip to Florence. Stay tuned.
Ciao!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Walk Back In Time...05.15 - 05.17.08
You better have the right shoes, when deciding to take on Rome by foot. Luckily, the missus and I had some advance warning. So, aside from the tour bus to the Vatican Museum, we've walked to every tourist attaction, and was able to take in Rome as it should be...slowly and with tremenduos gratitude.
Prior to the last posting (05.16.08), Keisha and I had arranged for a tour of the Vatican Museum and Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Vatican City is it's own, independent country in Italy. It has it's own leadership (The Pope, obviously), police force, population (which is counted separately form the population of Rome) and its own currency. There is a great wall that envelopes the city, so you have to go inside to get a glimpse of the treasures and history that the city offers. Going through the museum, you pass corridor after corridor of wall to ceiling artistry. Celings alone would be covered in these vignettes of worship and recounts of religious history. The walls that are not works of art themselves serve as a backdrop for tapestries, sculptures and pantings that border on being intimidating. Every square inch is a canvas, and the display of detail alone is enough to take time away...and separate you from the tour guide (Keisha and I had to play catch-up a few times, once we could not hear her through the headphones). The entire museum is huge. So huge, in fact, that Keisha spotted a couple seated on the bench in a corner taking a siesta. Keisha thought it was funny. I was just jealous.
Now, as far as the Sistine Chapel goes: simply astonishing, the level of detail, artisitc integrity and, if you talked to our tour guide, incredible gumption and creative licence employed by Michelangelo during the production of the Sistine Chapel, which is one giant art piece that envelopes you more than you can possibly take it in. Like within many halls in the Vatican Museum, we were not allowed to take photos inside the Sistine Chapel, and we had to be extra quiet, as it is still a place of worship that must be respected at all times.
After our tour of the Museum, Keisha and I broke from the group and headed to St. Peter's Bisilica. As far as the size of this place goes, this house of worship and honor is no smaller than the Colosseum (which we visited today 05.17.08). Detailed sculpures depicting Jesus Christ, Disciples and Priests line the columns, walls, ceilings and vestbules. Dome ceilings also create alcoves for artistic renderings, which are accented by beams of sunlight peering through the opening at the apex of each dome. Thank goodnes for the power zom lens! Keisha tried to take a couple of photos of me enjoying our visit there, but she just could not get the night vision setting right (it's kind of dark in the Bisilica, so night portrain settings might work better in some cases). She's no Gordon Parks!! LOL! Well, neither am I. We worked damn hard to get the shots we did get. So we'll be proud to show them as soon as we get back to the states.
Today (Saturday) was devoted to the Colosseo! We walked from our hotel, up Via del Corso, past the Monument of Vottorio Emanuele II (another amazing example of architecture and art smack in the middle of everything), and down the Via dei Fori Imperiale to the Colosseum, which is first visible many blocks away by the monument of Vittorio. I got really nervous, because the battery power on the digital camera was getting low (probably from all of the do-over pictures that Keisha was taking). But, it lasted through our tour (which is worth the price, because you legally jump lines that are estimated at a 90 minute wait or more). This 10th Wonder of the World is indeed that. Aside from learning bits of history on the Colosseum (like the fact that the Colosseum is a more modern name for it, as far as the Roman timeline goes), the ability to just sit, take photo after photo and imagine the place buzzing at the height of the Roman Empire is enough to make my trip. I could go home right now and be satisfied, partly because there is no way that we could see all that Rome has to offer in a week. Our Colosseum tour guide said that "even if you stayed in Rome for two months, it would not be enough. You need a year." Judging by how my feet feel, after just getting back, I beleive her.
After the Colosseo, Keisha and I jetted ahead of the group to the Palantino, which houses the "Casa di Augusto," The Roman Forum and ruins that would take your breath away. Of course, I was praying to the tourism Gods that the camera doesn't go dark, because I did not want to be the only tourist in modern Roman tourism history who didn't have pictures of this place from every possible vantage point. Luckily, I was able to keep myself out of the history books.
Well, tomorrow is Sunday, so the missus and I plan on taking Rome at a more relaxed pace. So, if I blog tomorrow, the bulk of it will be about our casual jaunts through town, some funny stories and some spots and "things to do" that have already become our "favorites."
Ciao!
Prior to the last posting (05.16.08), Keisha and I had arranged for a tour of the Vatican Museum and Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Vatican City is it's own, independent country in Italy. It has it's own leadership (The Pope, obviously), police force, population (which is counted separately form the population of Rome) and its own currency. There is a great wall that envelopes the city, so you have to go inside to get a glimpse of the treasures and history that the city offers. Going through the museum, you pass corridor after corridor of wall to ceiling artistry. Celings alone would be covered in these vignettes of worship and recounts of religious history. The walls that are not works of art themselves serve as a backdrop for tapestries, sculptures and pantings that border on being intimidating. Every square inch is a canvas, and the display of detail alone is enough to take time away...and separate you from the tour guide (Keisha and I had to play catch-up a few times, once we could not hear her through the headphones). The entire museum is huge. So huge, in fact, that Keisha spotted a couple seated on the bench in a corner taking a siesta. Keisha thought it was funny. I was just jealous.
Now, as far as the Sistine Chapel goes: simply astonishing, the level of detail, artisitc integrity and, if you talked to our tour guide, incredible gumption and creative licence employed by Michelangelo during the production of the Sistine Chapel, which is one giant art piece that envelopes you more than you can possibly take it in. Like within many halls in the Vatican Museum, we were not allowed to take photos inside the Sistine Chapel, and we had to be extra quiet, as it is still a place of worship that must be respected at all times.
After our tour of the Museum, Keisha and I broke from the group and headed to St. Peter's Bisilica. As far as the size of this place goes, this house of worship and honor is no smaller than the Colosseum (which we visited today 05.17.08). Detailed sculpures depicting Jesus Christ, Disciples and Priests line the columns, walls, ceilings and vestbules. Dome ceilings also create alcoves for artistic renderings, which are accented by beams of sunlight peering through the opening at the apex of each dome. Thank goodnes for the power zom lens! Keisha tried to take a couple of photos of me enjoying our visit there, but she just could not get the night vision setting right (it's kind of dark in the Bisilica, so night portrain settings might work better in some cases). She's no Gordon Parks!! LOL! Well, neither am I. We worked damn hard to get the shots we did get. So we'll be proud to show them as soon as we get back to the states.
Today (Saturday) was devoted to the Colosseo! We walked from our hotel, up Via del Corso, past the Monument of Vottorio Emanuele II (another amazing example of architecture and art smack in the middle of everything), and down the Via dei Fori Imperiale to the Colosseum, which is first visible many blocks away by the monument of Vittorio. I got really nervous, because the battery power on the digital camera was getting low (probably from all of the do-over pictures that Keisha was taking). But, it lasted through our tour (which is worth the price, because you legally jump lines that are estimated at a 90 minute wait or more). This 10th Wonder of the World is indeed that. Aside from learning bits of history on the Colosseum (like the fact that the Colosseum is a more modern name for it, as far as the Roman timeline goes), the ability to just sit, take photo after photo and imagine the place buzzing at the height of the Roman Empire is enough to make my trip. I could go home right now and be satisfied, partly because there is no way that we could see all that Rome has to offer in a week. Our Colosseum tour guide said that "even if you stayed in Rome for two months, it would not be enough. You need a year." Judging by how my feet feel, after just getting back, I beleive her.
After the Colosseo, Keisha and I jetted ahead of the group to the Palantino, which houses the "Casa di Augusto," The Roman Forum and ruins that would take your breath away. Of course, I was praying to the tourism Gods that the camera doesn't go dark, because I did not want to be the only tourist in modern Roman tourism history who didn't have pictures of this place from every possible vantage point. Luckily, I was able to keep myself out of the history books.
Well, tomorrow is Sunday, so the missus and I plan on taking Rome at a more relaxed pace. So, if I blog tomorrow, the bulk of it will be about our casual jaunts through town, some funny stories and some spots and "things to do" that have already become our "favorites."
Ciao!
Friday, May 16, 2008
A Living, Breathing Museum...05.15.08
Buon giorno! Grettings, all.
First off, forgive any spelling errors. I am typing my entries on the hotel computer, which is an old PC with some task buttons in Italian. Plus, Keisha would wring my neck if I spent too much time in front of this thing. But, promises must be kept...
Well, as you can probably tell, we made it to Italy. Sorry for the delay in notifying you. We had to walk around a bit, with eyes glazed over, just to try to get on the same page with Rome and the time zone. But, as we prepare for our afternoon tour of Vatican City, we wanted to be sure to drop a line or two. First and foremost, the US Air flight was horrible, but we arrived directly, with no problems with the Immigration police on either side of the Atlantic. Oh, and US Air double and triple checked Keisha's paperwork before boarding. We arrived in Italy yesterday morning, and made the trek to Rome. One word of advice: If you are traveling with a suitcase (or two), it is best to spend the dough and take a cab to your hotel, or take the hotel up on the offer to provide shuttle service. We traveled by train all the way, with standing room only on both the express train from the airport, as well as on the underground from the Roma Termini to our section of the city (which felt like it was on the Manhattan bound E train during rush hour).
But, when we finally got here, we were relieved and ready to tackle Rome. To keep ourselves from taking a nap, and contributing to jet lag, we hit the bricks and visited the Trevi Fountain (which is just a few blocks from our hotel), The Patheon, the Piazza di Novona and the Piazza di Spraga (sp?), also known as the Spanish Steps. We walked off every glass of wine, every gelato and every morsel of goodness we consumed since we arrived, but it is all worth it. Your eyes get as much exercise as your legs. One thing's for sure- Rome is a living, breathing museum. On your way to the landmarks that attrack a horde of tourists, you bump into countless pieces of art. From the architecture, to sacred grounds and churches, to courtyards that seem to have withstood the test of mankind, Rome is a preseved piece of human history. The level of crativity and, is some cases, faith that must have inspired the works here is inspiring. Words will not do this place justice, so we are taking a bunch of photos.
This morning, we collected ourselves and walked back to a little gourmet shop we discovered on our was to the Trevi Fountain, and had a morning sandwich of home made bread, ham and fresh cheese. We ate our breakfast by the Trevi Fountain, then dashed off for a real italian cappaucino. The tour transport will be here in a couple of hours to take us to Vatican City, so I will sign off now. It's lunch time.
Ciao!
First off, forgive any spelling errors. I am typing my entries on the hotel computer, which is an old PC with some task buttons in Italian. Plus, Keisha would wring my neck if I spent too much time in front of this thing. But, promises must be kept...
Well, as you can probably tell, we made it to Italy. Sorry for the delay in notifying you. We had to walk around a bit, with eyes glazed over, just to try to get on the same page with Rome and the time zone. But, as we prepare for our afternoon tour of Vatican City, we wanted to be sure to drop a line or two. First and foremost, the US Air flight was horrible, but we arrived directly, with no problems with the Immigration police on either side of the Atlantic. Oh, and US Air double and triple checked Keisha's paperwork before boarding. We arrived in Italy yesterday morning, and made the trek to Rome. One word of advice: If you are traveling with a suitcase (or two), it is best to spend the dough and take a cab to your hotel, or take the hotel up on the offer to provide shuttle service. We traveled by train all the way, with standing room only on both the express train from the airport, as well as on the underground from the Roma Termini to our section of the city (which felt like it was on the Manhattan bound E train during rush hour).
But, when we finally got here, we were relieved and ready to tackle Rome. To keep ourselves from taking a nap, and contributing to jet lag, we hit the bricks and visited the Trevi Fountain (which is just a few blocks from our hotel), The Patheon, the Piazza di Novona and the Piazza di Spraga (sp?), also known as the Spanish Steps. We walked off every glass of wine, every gelato and every morsel of goodness we consumed since we arrived, but it is all worth it. Your eyes get as much exercise as your legs. One thing's for sure- Rome is a living, breathing museum. On your way to the landmarks that attrack a horde of tourists, you bump into countless pieces of art. From the architecture, to sacred grounds and churches, to courtyards that seem to have withstood the test of mankind, Rome is a preseved piece of human history. The level of crativity and, is some cases, faith that must have inspired the works here is inspiring. Words will not do this place justice, so we are taking a bunch of photos.
This morning, we collected ourselves and walked back to a little gourmet shop we discovered on our was to the Trevi Fountain, and had a morning sandwich of home made bread, ham and fresh cheese. We ate our breakfast by the Trevi Fountain, then dashed off for a real italian cappaucino. The tour transport will be here in a couple of hours to take us to Vatican City, so I will sign off now. It's lunch time.
Ciao!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Getting Back On The Airbus!...05.14.08
Italy, here we come…again! Yup, the missus and I are determined to salvage the dream and partially dismiss the nightmare of last week. Are we gluttons for punishment? No, not at all. It was an interesting experience, which we both seemed to take on the chin pretty well. But, there’s still that bad taste in our mouths—you know, the kind that can only be washed away by a great cup of cappuccino, or a glass of Italian wine. And I can be pretty dogged, when it comes to getting what I want and resolving an issue in my favor. Which is why I’m loading up on ballpoint pens and paper—British Airways hasn’t heard the last of us.
But, in the end, we’re going where the remedy is. We learned some valuable lessons. I’m sure the nice lady at the Italian Consulate in Philadelphia felt like we were conducting an Inquisition. But, when you’re given a second chance at a “first time” experience, you want to make sure not to screw it up. I won’t even go into all that they ask for just to gain entry for a seven-day trip. And, after all of the hubbub, Keisha has a visa that’s good for six months. Um, don’t ask me. Just because they call it a system, doesn’t mean it’s going to make sense. but, if anyone's looking to offload a trip to Spain, give us a holler!
So, we’re packed (never really unpacked) and ready to fly the friendly skies again. This time, though, we’re going with the bloody Americans! U.S. Airways, baby! Give me a hot dog meal, a Coca-Cola and “The Patriot” as the in flight movie—with “Platoon,” “Full Metal Jacket” and “American Pie” on the other channels. Going American, we know that shit can still go wrong. But not in the area of immigration law, that’s for sure. (Sadly) our government has a suffocating choke hold on that issue. If something’s wrong this time, we know that, at the very worst, we'll stuck in a cab during evening rush hour, headed back home. Hey, at least we'd still get to catch "Criminal Minds" on CBS.
We're pretty confident that we’ll both touch Italian soil this time around, though. Flight leaves tonight, and gets to Rome in the morning (Rome time). So, if all remains well, look for the “From Across The Pond” entry in the next day or two.
Peace. (I would say “Ciao,” but we’re still not letting our guard down until we reach our hotel.)
But, in the end, we’re going where the remedy is. We learned some valuable lessons. I’m sure the nice lady at the Italian Consulate in Philadelphia felt like we were conducting an Inquisition. But, when you’re given a second chance at a “first time” experience, you want to make sure not to screw it up. I won’t even go into all that they ask for just to gain entry for a seven-day trip. And, after all of the hubbub, Keisha has a visa that’s good for six months. Um, don’t ask me. Just because they call it a system, doesn’t mean it’s going to make sense. but, if anyone's looking to offload a trip to Spain, give us a holler!
So, we’re packed (never really unpacked) and ready to fly the friendly skies again. This time, though, we’re going with the bloody Americans! U.S. Airways, baby! Give me a hot dog meal, a Coca-Cola and “The Patriot” as the in flight movie—with “Platoon,” “Full Metal Jacket” and “American Pie” on the other channels. Going American, we know that shit can still go wrong. But not in the area of immigration law, that’s for sure. (Sadly) our government has a suffocating choke hold on that issue. If something’s wrong this time, we know that, at the very worst, we'll stuck in a cab during evening rush hour, headed back home. Hey, at least we'd still get to catch "Criminal Minds" on CBS.
We're pretty confident that we’ll both touch Italian soil this time around, though. Flight leaves tonight, and gets to Rome in the morning (Rome time). So, if all remains well, look for the “From Across The Pond” entry in the next day or two.
Peace. (I would say “Ciao,” but we’re still not letting our guard down until we reach our hotel.)
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Seems like only yesterday…05.08.08
So, I’m sure you’d like to know how our wonderful trip to Italy is going. After all, it’s been 48 hours, right? Well, I can sum it up like this: After 48 hours and 12,000 miles of travel through multiple time zones, I can honestly say that Philadelphia is friggin’ awesome! Nope, this is not a misprint. The missus and I are back in Philadelphia! I’m typing this next entry from the comfort of my very own home. I mean, come on! You only see this sort of thing in the movies, right? (Which reminds me; “honey, cancel the cable subscription!”)
Believe me when I tell you, this entry is going to test the limits of the blogosphere, because I’m too tired to tell this story over and over. So, if you want to know the details, grab a cold one and strap in.
Okay, so here’s the deal: We get to Philadelphia International Airport to complete our pre-flight check-in and to get our bags checked through to Rome. Everything is peachy. The British Airways attendant handling our check-in is also from Rome, and lives in one of the towns we’d scheduled to stay in during our time there. She’s going on and on about how beautiful it is, how much of a great time we’re going to have there and tips on how not to get robbed (seriously). She’s bubbling with uninhibited enthusiasm—the kind that’s either aided by fond experiences or illegal substances. After her third cartwheel, the belly-area button on her polyester uniform blouse pops open. Eek! That visual aside, we’re really stoked now—as you can well imagine. I mean this has to be a great sign, right!
So, after seven hours in the air (part of which was a bit rough for me, but I got through it), another three waiting for our connection from—what I now term— "the city of" Heathrow to Rome, and another three hours from the UK to Italy, we land in Rome on time, none the worst for wear and ready to collect our bags and hit the bricks. So, I go through the airport’s immigration station with no problem. Passport stamped, I get to practice my Italian right away. “Grazie,” I said, and proceeded to the other side. The missus, on the other hand, is getting the double and triple take from the officer at the booth. Now, don’t get the wrong impression. He was not hitting on her. Keisha, though a resident of the US, is a citizen of Antigua. As a result, her passport was issued in Antigua.
Because of this, it’s not too uncommon for the customs and immigration folks to double check things before passing her along. So, of course, I’m not worried. But, after the fourth and fifth look, a tap or two at the keyboard, then summoning a more senior officer, the little hairs on the back of my neck start to stand up. The next thing I know, three officers are escorting my wife to a separate office. Of course, I run behind them, explaining to one of a few that could manage a few phases in English that she's with me (no disrespect on the language barrier, I was trying the few Italian words I knew were appropriate for the situation, hoping to establish a congenial connection).
So, the officer explains to me that the Antigua-issued passport and US resident card were not enough; she needed a certain visa to enter Italy! What the…!!? We’re dumbfounded. None of British Airways’ online booking information made any mention of this. Part of the requirement of booking online is providing detailed passport information, along with other documentation regarding citizenship and/or country of residence. So, when we booked online, everything was cool. When we completed our online check-in 24 hours before the day of travel, still no warnings. When we were checked in by the belly exposing, high-as-a-kite Italian woman on the British Airways staff at the Philly airport, no bells went off there. (Now, that last part is important, so keep it close to the front of the brain. I’ll tell you why in a few.)
Of course, the officer proceeds to tell me that “You can-a stay here in Italy. You’re wife, she-a has to go a-back. Do you-a want to a-stay in Italy?” I don’t know if the “are you ‘bleeping’ serious” look translates from American to Italian, but I know I had that look plastered on my mug!
“No,” I said. “If she has to leave, I’m leaving with her.”
I could not believe the question. I guess Italian men don’t mind leaving their wives stranded. Now, up until this point, our biggest concern was if our baggage would make it through to Italy. You read enough of those travel blogs, you start believing that you can be on a flight from Philly to Indianapolis, and your bags can get routed to Istanbul. In this day and age, with the rapid decline in customer service common sense, I can almost believe it. But the last thing we thought of was that we might not make it through!
So, there we sit in the waiting area; the two of us and a few other people who were a few meters short of tasting an authentic cannoli. Then it dawned us: “shit! Our luggage.” So, I race out of the waiting area and down the hall to baggage claim. Bags made it! So, the optimism starts to bubble in me. I think to myself, “Well, if the bags made it, then maybe we can get to the right people and get this sorted out.” So, I roll our two large bags back to the holding area. When I get back, we learned that Keisha would be processed in the office where she was held, then taken to see the Chief (not mafia) upstairs in the main police office. But, all and all, it was likely that we would have to "go a-back." I was instructed to locate the British Airways office on the upper level, in order to explain the situation, and then find Keisha in the police office on that same level.
So, while the Italian police were detaining my wife, I trek with bags in tow, looking for the way out. To get out, I actually had to exit to the street level, then return through the departure section of the airport. So, I actually got to touch Italian soil! But it was that good-bad experience all in one. Remember the scene in the third Matrix movie, when Trinity and Neo had to climb up through the black sky to get the sentinels off their asses. Trinity breaks through the clouds into a burst of sunlight and blue sky. It’s just enough for her to start to hope that things were going to work out, before plummeting back into the darkness. Well, that’s exactly how I felt. I was out in the open for about four minutes, and then went back into the airport to find help.
Of course, when I get there, most of the signs are either in Italian, or not there at all. At least, not the signs I needed. I needed the “American With Wife Being Held By Police For Not Having Visa, This Way!” sign. No luck. And after nearly 90 minutes searching for the British Airways desk, searching for the airport help desk, searching for the police office, then waiting for the British Airways attendants to return from lunch (I can smell the cannoli on guy’s breath), laid it out for them.
The British Airways attendant—a woman that spoke great Italian and English—was utterly surprised by the news.
“Does she have her residency card?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said.
She grabbed her walkie-talkie and told me to follow her. I must have looked like one of those people you see in the airport armed with aloofness and kilograms of Lord knows what in their bags, turning in circles as the rest of us try to avoid getting blasted in the shins. But, I did not care; I had a champion who meant business and could translate for me, if I started cursing and talking in Ebonics.
But, after a few minutes in the office chatting with the police, she came out and told me that there was no way they were going to let the missus in the country, and that she can book us on the next flight back to Heathrow. (Balloon popped!)
Of course, she asked “are you sure you do not want to stay, since you were able to get in?”
“No,” I said. “I’m going back as well.”
Apparently, Italian wives don’t think twice about leaving their husbands behind either. Now, remember when I said to remember about the Pilates instructor in Philly who moonlights as a British Airways attendant? Well, here’s why: As she’s booking flights for us, the attendant in Rome told me that the folks in Philadelphia would receive a significant fine. There is no way that Keisha should have been allowed to get on the plane in Philly without the proper documentation to get into Italy, let alone all the way to Italy. Now, I’m passed dumbfounded and am on the express train to losing my mind. To add insult to injury, the plane to Heathrow was leaving in a couple of hours…but the connecting flight to Philadelphia was leaving at noon the next day.
So, we’re looking at spending the night in the airport, as the attendant was not sure if Keisha would be allowed to leave the airport in the UK. This part was strange because citizens of Antigua and Barbuda (which were formerly governed by the UK, but are now independent countries of the UK Commonwealth, or something or other, yadda, yadda) don’t have to be issued a visa to gain entry. Of course, there was the long shot of contacting/visiting the US Embassy in Italy to plead my case (again, something out of the movies). But, I would not have reached someone who could have helped me before the next day, and Keisha would have to spend hours, if not days in the airport with no real assurance that the issue would be rectified in our favor. Not an option, obviously.
So, on the plane we go. Three hours later, we’re back at the UK and looking for a place to stay. After hearing that we would be confined to one terminal, if we were to stay overnight, we decided that the gold nugget of a hot meal and good night’s rest was worth the risk of more confusingly bad news from immigration station. Before doing so, we checked with the folks at the British Airways counter in Heathrow about the status of Keisha’s documentation. The kind chap confirmed that Keisha needed nothing more to leave the airport and return the next day for our flight to Philly.
Of course, when we get to the immigration line, they cannot verify if Keisha can enter on her passport alone. After a few minutes of polite conversation, and four immigration people shrugging their shoulders and tilting their heads like they were synchronize swimming, they decided to issue a temporary visa to let her leave the airport. Those folks were just what we needed. I, of course, did not have any problems.
So, we exit the airport and hop a train to Hounslow in West London (good tips provided by some nice chaps who worked in the city of Heathrow). We stumbled onto the Continental Hotel in the center of Hounslow (great place just two blocks from the Hounslow Central station on the Piccadilly underground train line). By grabbing one of the few remaining open rooms, and getting into the hotel restaurant right before the kitchen closed, we were saved. I was exhausted, and Keisha was obviously exhausted, frustrated, and apologetic about the whole ordeal.
But, as we ate, drank (I did, anyway) and found our way to our hotel room, the pressure of the day seemed to lift a bit. Sure, we were tired and ragged, so it could have been the nice, hot shower and accommodations talking. But, I think it was something more. We began to look at the situation and laugh. Sure, we were still disappointed. But, somehow, because we were riding “shotgun” for each other throughout the day, we were at peace with the fact that, at the end of the day, we were fed, a little buzzed on French wine (at least I was), clean and together. I guess these are the cornerstones of a good vacation, even if only for one day.
In the morning, we hopped back on the Piccadilly line like seasoned vets and ventured back to the airport for an early check-in and some breakfast before the seven-hour haul back to America. The British Airways attendant checked our ID and asked if Keisha had her visa or residency card for entry into the United States. Flag!!
It’s true, when traveling back to the US, the check-in staff always checks to make sure that non-nationals have the appropriate documentation for entry. Though we talked to some people who thought that the airline might give us a difficult time, this fact was in line with what the British Airways attendant in Rome told us. They are supposed to check that stuff going both ways. So why were we allowed to pass through to Italy?
So, we’re on the high-noon BA airbus back to Philadelphia. After a few hours on the train, the senior attendant with the flight crew comes down the isle to pass out some customer surveys at random (with BA CEO Willie Walsh on the front).
So, who do you think gets one of these shiny surveys?
Oh, baby! It was like holding the sun in my hand. Now, we planned on alerting BA of the whole fiasco when we got home, but the survey was such Devine intervention, it was unreal. I intended to answer all of the questions honestly, but when the door opened, I was going to walk through it and punch BA right in the mouth!
I’m working through the survey, thinking in my head which way is up?; is it our fault? Is it BA’s fault? Shared responsibility?
Don’t get me wrong. Keisha was convinced that there was something she could have done to prevent this. That might be true, but the assembly line at Philadelphia International broke down somewhere—that’s for sure. And that’s when I saw it: Section 14 of the customer survey. The title of the section was “Preparing for your journey before the airport.” The second or third question down asked us to rate BA's level of service in providing information with regards to our travel. In parenthesis were examples of such information, like baggage allowances and, you guessed it, visas! Flag!!!
I talked to the senior member of the crew who, though fuzzy on the exact process herself, definitely felt that the questionnaire suggested that such information should have been provided in some form—especially considering the detail needed for online booking and the practices of the UK staff with regards to passengers booking flights to the USA.
So, after seven hours (and great service by the flight crew, I might add), we landed back in Philly. As I write this, Keisha is preparing the draft of a “sincerely” written note to the customer relations team at British Airways. Of course, we are not ruling out trying to get to Italy. We don't like giving up on a dream vacation. But I don't like Italian officers detaining my wife either. I'm from Brooklyn. We don't play that....!
We’ll see. I’m going to bed!
Believe me when I tell you, this entry is going to test the limits of the blogosphere, because I’m too tired to tell this story over and over. So, if you want to know the details, grab a cold one and strap in.
Okay, so here’s the deal: We get to Philadelphia International Airport to complete our pre-flight check-in and to get our bags checked through to Rome. Everything is peachy. The British Airways attendant handling our check-in is also from Rome, and lives in one of the towns we’d scheduled to stay in during our time there. She’s going on and on about how beautiful it is, how much of a great time we’re going to have there and tips on how not to get robbed (seriously). She’s bubbling with uninhibited enthusiasm—the kind that’s either aided by fond experiences or illegal substances. After her third cartwheel, the belly-area button on her polyester uniform blouse pops open. Eek! That visual aside, we’re really stoked now—as you can well imagine. I mean this has to be a great sign, right!
So, after seven hours in the air (part of which was a bit rough for me, but I got through it), another three waiting for our connection from—what I now term— "the city of" Heathrow to Rome, and another three hours from the UK to Italy, we land in Rome on time, none the worst for wear and ready to collect our bags and hit the bricks. So, I go through the airport’s immigration station with no problem. Passport stamped, I get to practice my Italian right away. “Grazie,” I said, and proceeded to the other side. The missus, on the other hand, is getting the double and triple take from the officer at the booth. Now, don’t get the wrong impression. He was not hitting on her. Keisha, though a resident of the US, is a citizen of Antigua. As a result, her passport was issued in Antigua.
Because of this, it’s not too uncommon for the customs and immigration folks to double check things before passing her along. So, of course, I’m not worried. But, after the fourth and fifth look, a tap or two at the keyboard, then summoning a more senior officer, the little hairs on the back of my neck start to stand up. The next thing I know, three officers are escorting my wife to a separate office. Of course, I run behind them, explaining to one of a few that could manage a few phases in English that she's with me (no disrespect on the language barrier, I was trying the few Italian words I knew were appropriate for the situation, hoping to establish a congenial connection).
So, the officer explains to me that the Antigua-issued passport and US resident card were not enough; she needed a certain visa to enter Italy! What the…!!? We’re dumbfounded. None of British Airways’ online booking information made any mention of this. Part of the requirement of booking online is providing detailed passport information, along with other documentation regarding citizenship and/or country of residence. So, when we booked online, everything was cool. When we completed our online check-in 24 hours before the day of travel, still no warnings. When we were checked in by the belly exposing, high-as-a-kite Italian woman on the British Airways staff at the Philly airport, no bells went off there. (Now, that last part is important, so keep it close to the front of the brain. I’ll tell you why in a few.)
Of course, the officer proceeds to tell me that “You can-a stay here in Italy. You’re wife, she-a has to go a-back. Do you-a want to a-stay in Italy?” I don’t know if the “are you ‘bleeping’ serious” look translates from American to Italian, but I know I had that look plastered on my mug!
“No,” I said. “If she has to leave, I’m leaving with her.”
I could not believe the question. I guess Italian men don’t mind leaving their wives stranded. Now, up until this point, our biggest concern was if our baggage would make it through to Italy. You read enough of those travel blogs, you start believing that you can be on a flight from Philly to Indianapolis, and your bags can get routed to Istanbul. In this day and age, with the rapid decline in customer service common sense, I can almost believe it. But the last thing we thought of was that we might not make it through!
So, there we sit in the waiting area; the two of us and a few other people who were a few meters short of tasting an authentic cannoli. Then it dawned us: “shit! Our luggage.” So, I race out of the waiting area and down the hall to baggage claim. Bags made it! So, the optimism starts to bubble in me. I think to myself, “Well, if the bags made it, then maybe we can get to the right people and get this sorted out.” So, I roll our two large bags back to the holding area. When I get back, we learned that Keisha would be processed in the office where she was held, then taken to see the Chief (not mafia) upstairs in the main police office. But, all and all, it was likely that we would have to "go a-back." I was instructed to locate the British Airways office on the upper level, in order to explain the situation, and then find Keisha in the police office on that same level.
So, while the Italian police were detaining my wife, I trek with bags in tow, looking for the way out. To get out, I actually had to exit to the street level, then return through the departure section of the airport. So, I actually got to touch Italian soil! But it was that good-bad experience all in one. Remember the scene in the third Matrix movie, when Trinity and Neo had to climb up through the black sky to get the sentinels off their asses. Trinity breaks through the clouds into a burst of sunlight and blue sky. It’s just enough for her to start to hope that things were going to work out, before plummeting back into the darkness. Well, that’s exactly how I felt. I was out in the open for about four minutes, and then went back into the airport to find help.
Of course, when I get there, most of the signs are either in Italian, or not there at all. At least, not the signs I needed. I needed the “American With Wife Being Held By Police For Not Having Visa, This Way!” sign. No luck. And after nearly 90 minutes searching for the British Airways desk, searching for the airport help desk, searching for the police office, then waiting for the British Airways attendants to return from lunch (I can smell the cannoli on guy’s breath), laid it out for them.
The British Airways attendant—a woman that spoke great Italian and English—was utterly surprised by the news.
“Does she have her residency card?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said.
She grabbed her walkie-talkie and told me to follow her. I must have looked like one of those people you see in the airport armed with aloofness and kilograms of Lord knows what in their bags, turning in circles as the rest of us try to avoid getting blasted in the shins. But, I did not care; I had a champion who meant business and could translate for me, if I started cursing and talking in Ebonics.
But, after a few minutes in the office chatting with the police, she came out and told me that there was no way they were going to let the missus in the country, and that she can book us on the next flight back to Heathrow. (Balloon popped!)
Of course, she asked “are you sure you do not want to stay, since you were able to get in?”
“No,” I said. “I’m going back as well.”
Apparently, Italian wives don’t think twice about leaving their husbands behind either. Now, remember when I said to remember about the Pilates instructor in Philly who moonlights as a British Airways attendant? Well, here’s why: As she’s booking flights for us, the attendant in Rome told me that the folks in Philadelphia would receive a significant fine. There is no way that Keisha should have been allowed to get on the plane in Philly without the proper documentation to get into Italy, let alone all the way to Italy. Now, I’m passed dumbfounded and am on the express train to losing my mind. To add insult to injury, the plane to Heathrow was leaving in a couple of hours…but the connecting flight to Philadelphia was leaving at noon the next day.
So, we’re looking at spending the night in the airport, as the attendant was not sure if Keisha would be allowed to leave the airport in the UK. This part was strange because citizens of Antigua and Barbuda (which were formerly governed by the UK, but are now independent countries of the UK Commonwealth, or something or other, yadda, yadda) don’t have to be issued a visa to gain entry. Of course, there was the long shot of contacting/visiting the US Embassy in Italy to plead my case (again, something out of the movies). But, I would not have reached someone who could have helped me before the next day, and Keisha would have to spend hours, if not days in the airport with no real assurance that the issue would be rectified in our favor. Not an option, obviously.
So, on the plane we go. Three hours later, we’re back at the UK and looking for a place to stay. After hearing that we would be confined to one terminal, if we were to stay overnight, we decided that the gold nugget of a hot meal and good night’s rest was worth the risk of more confusingly bad news from immigration station. Before doing so, we checked with the folks at the British Airways counter in Heathrow about the status of Keisha’s documentation. The kind chap confirmed that Keisha needed nothing more to leave the airport and return the next day for our flight to Philly.
Of course, when we get to the immigration line, they cannot verify if Keisha can enter on her passport alone. After a few minutes of polite conversation, and four immigration people shrugging their shoulders and tilting their heads like they were synchronize swimming, they decided to issue a temporary visa to let her leave the airport. Those folks were just what we needed. I, of course, did not have any problems.
So, we exit the airport and hop a train to Hounslow in West London (good tips provided by some nice chaps who worked in the city of Heathrow). We stumbled onto the Continental Hotel in the center of Hounslow (great place just two blocks from the Hounslow Central station on the Piccadilly underground train line). By grabbing one of the few remaining open rooms, and getting into the hotel restaurant right before the kitchen closed, we were saved. I was exhausted, and Keisha was obviously exhausted, frustrated, and apologetic about the whole ordeal.
But, as we ate, drank (I did, anyway) and found our way to our hotel room, the pressure of the day seemed to lift a bit. Sure, we were tired and ragged, so it could have been the nice, hot shower and accommodations talking. But, I think it was something more. We began to look at the situation and laugh. Sure, we were still disappointed. But, somehow, because we were riding “shotgun” for each other throughout the day, we were at peace with the fact that, at the end of the day, we were fed, a little buzzed on French wine (at least I was), clean and together. I guess these are the cornerstones of a good vacation, even if only for one day.
In the morning, we hopped back on the Piccadilly line like seasoned vets and ventured back to the airport for an early check-in and some breakfast before the seven-hour haul back to America. The British Airways attendant checked our ID and asked if Keisha had her visa or residency card for entry into the United States. Flag!!
It’s true, when traveling back to the US, the check-in staff always checks to make sure that non-nationals have the appropriate documentation for entry. Though we talked to some people who thought that the airline might give us a difficult time, this fact was in line with what the British Airways attendant in Rome told us. They are supposed to check that stuff going both ways. So why were we allowed to pass through to Italy?
So, we’re on the high-noon BA airbus back to Philadelphia. After a few hours on the train, the senior attendant with the flight crew comes down the isle to pass out some customer surveys at random (with BA CEO Willie Walsh on the front).
So, who do you think gets one of these shiny surveys?
Oh, baby! It was like holding the sun in my hand. Now, we planned on alerting BA of the whole fiasco when we got home, but the survey was such Devine intervention, it was unreal. I intended to answer all of the questions honestly, but when the door opened, I was going to walk through it and punch BA right in the mouth!
I’m working through the survey, thinking in my head which way is up?; is it our fault? Is it BA’s fault? Shared responsibility?
Don’t get me wrong. Keisha was convinced that there was something she could have done to prevent this. That might be true, but the assembly line at Philadelphia International broke down somewhere—that’s for sure. And that’s when I saw it: Section 14 of the customer survey. The title of the section was “Preparing for your journey before the airport.” The second or third question down asked us to rate BA's level of service in providing information with regards to our travel. In parenthesis were examples of such information, like baggage allowances and, you guessed it, visas! Flag!!!
I talked to the senior member of the crew who, though fuzzy on the exact process herself, definitely felt that the questionnaire suggested that such information should have been provided in some form—especially considering the detail needed for online booking and the practices of the UK staff with regards to passengers booking flights to the USA.
So, after seven hours (and great service by the flight crew, I might add), we landed back in Philly. As I write this, Keisha is preparing the draft of a “sincerely” written note to the customer relations team at British Airways. Of course, we are not ruling out trying to get to Italy. We don't like giving up on a dream vacation. But I don't like Italian officers detaining my wife either. I'm from Brooklyn. We don't play that....!
We’ll see. I’m going to bed!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
When in Rome... 05.06.08
Welcome to the first installment of—what Keisha and I expect to be—a chronicle of a great journey. With this opening salvo, I'll answer some of those burning questions, like "why entitle the blog series 'Leave the Gun. Take the Cannoli'?" Or, "why couldn't the expression be 'when in Paris,' or 'when in Spain,' or 'when running for your life through the Amazon'?" Well, maybe not the Amazon...
"Why 'Leave the Gun. Take the Cannoli'?" Well, if you've been around me long enough, you already know that I'm a huge "Godfather" junkie, and a lover of great mob genre/gangster cinema overall. (That line is in the first Godfather movie and is one of the most famous lines in the history of film, for those who have yet to be brought into La Familia.)
So, it's only fitting that, though I won't get to hike the hills to Correlone, Sicily on this trip, I will be close enough to sample the history and culture that spawned such an epic story. Plus, I think that all true Godfather fans should make the pilgrimage to the "Old Country," in order to see what the culture is really all about. I'm no fool; while it's cool to romanticize that sort of thing for the sake of visual art and entertainment, it would be wholly criminal to allow my only connection to this culture be that which has become the solution for Sunday channel surfing— especially when a history of a people and culture includes artistic minds like Michelangelo and da Vinci. Plus, Keisha and I love the architecture, language and the food. So, it's always been near the top of our list of places that we wanted to travel together. So, we're stoked (the safe, legal "stoked," not the other one). Who knows, maybe this trip will inspire us to learn Italian. That reminds me: better charge up the iPod.
"So, what's with the expression 'when in Rome..."?" Well, I don't know where it came from originally, but it's all about trying to do as the people do, when visiting a new place. So, by that definition, you could plug in Paris, Spain, or the Galapagos Islands, and still be on point. Generally, I subscribe to this concept, except in the extreme cases, such as a waiter making a suggestion like "you should try this dish! Roasted salamanders are fine cuisine in this part of the world!" Uh, check, please!!
Of course, I think there are times when being a true, honest "gringo" can enhance the experience. The more comfortable you are about being in a foreign place, and not being the most knowledgeable on the scene, the more alert you are, and the more eager you are to learn about what surrounds you. In this case, walking in blissfully ignorant may be the best advantage. We'll see.
But, generally speaking, I travel to places with an open mind and, to this point, have been exposed to great things. Now, it could be a Jedi mind trick. Subconsciously, I may be picking places that will ensure a great experience. So, when I have a great experience, it could be the case of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Hey, it could be true. So, for our next trip, Keisha and I have been talking about Australia. Again, if you know me, then you may know that I'm also a huge fan of nature. I think it has something to do with all of those fishing trips when I was a kid. My dad was catching all of the fish, so all I could do was notice all of the wild animals. I catch more fish these days, but I still watch for the animals. Anyway, I think Australia would be great, but I am a bit afraid of it. I think the stat is like 80% of all venumous species live in Australia. Imagine that! That beautiful, multicolored butterfly landing on your shoulder could end up being one of the most deadly butterflies in the world! Forty-foot whale sharks that swim right off the coast and eat plankton? Spiders that eat birds? Man, that's too much stress on a vacation. But, we're talking about it. So, we'll see.
I'll sign off now. Keisha and I have some last minute stuff to do before the stage coach arrives to take us to the "aeroporto." So, we'll throw on our iPods, listen to our free "Learning Italian Phrase Book" series, courtesy of iTunes, and get ready to tackle this 12 hour flight to Europa. The next posting will be from across the pond.
Ciao!
"Why 'Leave the Gun. Take the Cannoli'?" Well, if you've been around me long enough, you already know that I'm a huge "Godfather" junkie, and a lover of great mob genre/gangster cinema overall. (That line is in the first Godfather movie and is one of the most famous lines in the history of film, for those who have yet to be brought into La Familia.)
So, it's only fitting that, though I won't get to hike the hills to Correlone, Sicily on this trip, I will be close enough to sample the history and culture that spawned such an epic story. Plus, I think that all true Godfather fans should make the pilgrimage to the "Old Country," in order to see what the culture is really all about. I'm no fool; while it's cool to romanticize that sort of thing for the sake of visual art and entertainment, it would be wholly criminal to allow my only connection to this culture be that which has become the solution for Sunday channel surfing— especially when a history of a people and culture includes artistic minds like Michelangelo and da Vinci. Plus, Keisha and I love the architecture, language and the food. So, it's always been near the top of our list of places that we wanted to travel together. So, we're stoked (the safe, legal "stoked," not the other one). Who knows, maybe this trip will inspire us to learn Italian. That reminds me: better charge up the iPod.
"So, what's with the expression 'when in Rome..."?" Well, I don't know where it came from originally, but it's all about trying to do as the people do, when visiting a new place. So, by that definition, you could plug in Paris, Spain, or the Galapagos Islands, and still be on point. Generally, I subscribe to this concept, except in the extreme cases, such as a waiter making a suggestion like "you should try this dish! Roasted salamanders are fine cuisine in this part of the world!" Uh, check, please!!
Of course, I think there are times when being a true, honest "gringo" can enhance the experience. The more comfortable you are about being in a foreign place, and not being the most knowledgeable on the scene, the more alert you are, and the more eager you are to learn about what surrounds you. In this case, walking in blissfully ignorant may be the best advantage. We'll see.
But, generally speaking, I travel to places with an open mind and, to this point, have been exposed to great things. Now, it could be a Jedi mind trick. Subconsciously, I may be picking places that will ensure a great experience. So, when I have a great experience, it could be the case of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Hey, it could be true. So, for our next trip, Keisha and I have been talking about Australia. Again, if you know me, then you may know that I'm also a huge fan of nature. I think it has something to do with all of those fishing trips when I was a kid. My dad was catching all of the fish, so all I could do was notice all of the wild animals. I catch more fish these days, but I still watch for the animals. Anyway, I think Australia would be great, but I am a bit afraid of it. I think the stat is like 80% of all venumous species live in Australia. Imagine that! That beautiful, multicolored butterfly landing on your shoulder could end up being one of the most deadly butterflies in the world! Forty-foot whale sharks that swim right off the coast and eat plankton? Spiders that eat birds? Man, that's too much stress on a vacation. But, we're talking about it. So, we'll see.
I'll sign off now. Keisha and I have some last minute stuff to do before the stage coach arrives to take us to the "aeroporto." So, we'll throw on our iPods, listen to our free "Learning Italian Phrase Book" series, courtesy of iTunes, and get ready to tackle this 12 hour flight to Europa. The next posting will be from across the pond.
Ciao!
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