Saturday, April 11, 1998

Rise and shine and on my way to Rome. Mom is in the air on her way from California. She has a long flight. I hope it's okay and that we meet up with no problems. There was a big full moon last night. I woke up and saw it around 3:30, big and luminous, now the sky is clouded over again.

Morningtime and I'm back on the train. It's time for adventures of a family and tourist type. The train from Montecatini Therme to Rome is full. Everyone is traveling for the Easter holiday. My hotel in Montecatini is booked with European and Italian tour groups getting away from it all. The hotel in Rome is a block from the train station, wonderful! I find the place, deposit my luggage then find out about transportation to and from the airport. More luck, it turns out there is a direct train from the train station to the airport and back! That was easy. I meet our tour leader in the lobby of the hotel. He says I must get to the orientation meeting at 3:30 this afternoon. Well, that's not possible because Mom's plane arrives at 3:00. We will figure out the details later. I also decline the evening and next morning's extra excursions. Mom will be tired when she arrives. The last thing we will want to do is see "Rome by Night".

After a walk around the area, I catch a train to the airport to meet up with Mom. Yay, she made it! Her flight was comfortable but very long. She is tired but we are so happy to see each other. We get the train back to our hotel and manage to catch the last few minutes of tour orientation. It is a bit of a blur, things to do and not to do, places we are going and group procedures. I am sure it will make sense eventually. We settle into our rooms and call Father to let him know Mom has arrived safely. Now we begin our tourist adventures.

A stroll around the neighborhood is curtailed by rain. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. After having small bite of something to eat it's time for sleep.

Easter Sunday, April 12, 1998

It's strange to hear about home, family and a world that is so far away. I'm fortunate to like my parents and enjoy their company. It seems fashionable to put parents down, but I think it's sad. All family relationships have hot buttons and land mines, but I feel very lucky to have such a great family. It will be interesting to see how the tour goes. It's nice to have everything taken care of. I wonder who else is on the trip. Mom says we have the last two places and the tour is full.

In the morning, we get up, have breakfast and take a walk to a nearby square with a pretty church. The Easter morning sun plays hide and seek with the clouds. It is so great to have Mom here with me. I want her to have a great trip and for both of us to enjoy the time together. We hook up with our tour group for a marathon progression around the Forum and the Vatican. The sights are all quite impressive. Our local contract guide is quite knowledgeable. His clear way of speaking and presenting information about the piles of rocks and ruins brings history to life. He helps us see the sights differently and leaves us wanting to know more.

It turns out that each tourist destination has guides specially licensed for that particular locale. Our group tour leader cannot take the role of a local guide. It is something to do with unions and travel turf. We are now one of the cliché herd of tourists, almost all from America, doing the "Italy in 10 Days" excursion. It's fun, enlightening and partly humorous. There we are in our comfortable shoes and travel clothes, cameras and videos at the ready, purses and wallets closely guarded. We are ever ready for the photo-op, to experience the storied moment presented by scores of travel magazines and tour brochures. Our tourist profile defines that we stop frequently for snacks and souvenirs. Are we on vacation or a mission? Time will tell.

After the day's march through local antiquities, we remount our bus. It is a huge, deluxe metal tube that is our transport for the next ten days. Our guide begins training us in proper tour procedure. We must arrive promptly in the morning for departure, no stragglers allowed. All luggage will be put outside the room at the proper time. We will return to the bus at the designated time. Always remember that your actions influence everyone. Make nice and have fun but always be on time. In addition, there is a system of seat rotation. Everyone has a chance to sit in front, in the middle and in the back of the bus. The rotation ensures that you get to sit near different people each day. The rules make sense. They create order in this group of strangers trying to have a good time and get the most for their travel dollar. Our group seems fairly adaptable, prompt and disposed to get along and have a good time.

We have an hour rest before going on to the evening's activities in Tivoli. The bus deposits us on the edge of town. The small streets take us to the buildings and famous Tivoli fountains. We are escorted through the house and gardens. It's a lovely setting, with beautiful grounds. The fountains are an engineering marvel. We are suitably impressed and enjoy time strolling the grounds, up the hill, down the hill. If today is any indication, I'll definitely get my fair share of exercise on this trip. Mom is keeping pace with the program, as she says, she's a tough old bird. There are others in our group who are much heavier and out of shape. They have a hard time with the stairs and all the walking. For me, it's another very strong argument for staying healthy and in good shape. When I get older, I want to be able to get up and go without physical limitations.

 

Stairs on the side of the buildings at tivoli gardens.

Mom and I have opted for the evening dinner event. Most of the group goes to a restaurant tucked into one of the side streets. We enter through a door, down and around a maze like pathway into a series of underground rooms. Discovered by the present owner's Grandfather, they are believed to be Roman ruins, a temple to Diana. The food is okay, pasta, pasta, bread, some meat, and some wine. The setting is special. The owners of the restaurant work hard for their customers to have an enjoyable evening. It is fun. Our group starts to get to know each other.

I am happy to be here and very glad to be sharing the experience with Mom. Exhausted, we crawl back on the bus and get into bed. So much to see, so little time, but I think this tour will try and have us see as much as possible.

Monday, April 13, 1998

Now the traveling begins. We get up on time. Pack our suitcases and put them in the hall. Breakfast consumed, get on the bus, here we go. The first stop on our way south of Rome are the Catacombs. Because Mom and I didn't buy the optional Rome tour, in theory, we are along for the ride. In reality, we buy our own entrance ticket and tag along with the local guide. Tourists make pilgrimages to burial places to see fancy tombs and bones. There is a fascination with the past and death. It's not my favorite subject but it is interesting. Now I've seen it. I take more pleasure in the above ground sunshine and springtime that is blooming all around us. It's a beautiful time of year to be here.

Back on the bus and away we go, through countryside, through hill and dale. The highway takes us south, away from Rome. Our guide, Marco, is constantly talking into the bus microphone. He tells silly jokes and enlightens us with trivia about the surrounding areas we pass through. On and on and on he goes. Some of us talk softly amongst ourselves, others read and occasionally a head nods with a nap.

We are heading for the town of Sorrento. It's a central location near Naples, the Island of Capri and the Amalfi Coast. We'll stay there two nights. The bus drives through the Easter Monday traffic. We stop for lunch at a highway restaurant that caters to travelers. The food is not bad. The service is cafeteria style to accommodate the forty of us relatively quickly. After lunch, it's back on the bus. We end up driving along the Amalfi Coast craning our necks to catch views of water, cliff hanging homes and small orchards of citrus trees. Everything is fresh and blooming in springtime profusion. I think this trip will be a whirlwind panorama that invites return to linger at a later time. For now, we enjoy the glimpses of beauty as they whiz by.

We arrive at our hotel, check out our assigned room and head out for a stroll around the town. The afternoon promenade is in full swing. Groups of girls walk arm in arm, talking and giggling. Couples of all ages stroll hand in hand. There are locals and out of towners. All saunter along the main streets, looking in shop windows and enjoying the fresh spring afternoon.

One of Marco's bus monologues was about the optional excursions. He claims they are wonderful and well worth the additional investment. They will add to the richness and enjoyment of our visit to Italy. We need to choose and then pay up, cash, U.S. dollar or Italian Lira accepted. Mom and I decide to go for the full treatment and do the math. The best deal is for me to get cash from a local ATM. I keep telling myself, I'm not cheap, just frugal. We find one on our evening stroll but my card doesn't work. I'll find another one tomorrow morning. We beg some extra time from Marco and promise to pay as soon as possible. It's funny how this hustling and customer processing is handled. There is the guise of a jolly good time but it barely covers the profit motives. Mom and I choose to focus on the positive. We are enjoying our time together and getting to know the other people on the trip. In general, it seems like a very friendly group of people. Many have traveled quite extensively. The majority of the group is retired couples. There are a number of single women traveling and two other Mother/Daughter pairs. It's a nice mix of people from all over the U.S., one couple from South Africa and another from Australia. The busy day draws to a close. Wine is included with dinner coffee is extra. It's a sticking point with Mom who is a devoted coffee with dinner fan. She wants "American" coffee, to the chagrin of the Italians.

Tuesday, April 14, 1998

It is a blustery day but the sunshine is out in full force. We board the ferry to Capri. It's all I can do not to loose my breakfast in the thoughtfully provided barf bags. On arrival, the beauty and fresh air of quickly erase the nausea induced by our rocky boat ride to get here. Everything is so bright and pretty on the island. We spend our tourist day wandering around back streets, looking in shops and enjoying views of the water and craggy cliffs. Activity is beginning to stir for the season after the quiet winter months. Springtime flowers are in evidence everywhere, including a walkway that is magnificent with its solid covering of wisteria overhead. This place invites lingering; sitting in a café or on a bench in a park, enjoying the sunshine and watching the world go by. I daydream of a visit here when I can stay in a resort or small villa. I'd like a few weeks to wander and relax. The truth is I'd get antsy with too much relaxation. I bet this place is a zoo during high season in August. Still, knowing I'm on tour time and have to go at a certain time instead of maybe ten minutes later makes me want to break away. I've never liked someone editing my experiences for me. Now is the time to learn to sit back and let this experience happen. I am seeing many wonderful places, traveling with someone I like and everything is taken care of. Life is very good.

We take a tour of a local historical villa, looking at tile work, artifacts and the view. It is fun to have someone to share this with, to make observations. Mom and I take time to look and to stroll and to talk about everything and nothing. I don't remember the details of our conversations but rather the easy comfort of sharing a wonderful day with someone who you know and who knows you.

 

A view of the sea on the Isle of Capri.

The return boat ride to Solerno is much calmer. We spend the late afternoon before dinner strolling and looking at the shops. There is some interesting furniture decorated with patterns and pictures in different color wood veneers. Some of the pieces are appealing. We debate the merits of getting one, analyze costs and discuss shipping with the salesperson (shipping to the States, no problem). Indecision becomes a decision. This opportunity to acquire a souvenir is passed up. It is not a tragedy. Commercialism, overabundance, and mass distribution make things that in the past would have been special, now seem like just more stuff. For me, this trip is more about the experience than the stuff (in spite of all the batik I've already shipped home).

Wednesday, April 15, 1998

Good thing I filed an extension for my taxes before I left home, that's something I won't have to worry about for a while. This morning it's time to get back in the bus and on with our journey. Before leaving the area, the group stops for an early morning visit to Pompei. We are lucky to get there before most of the other tour busses. We scurry after our guide as he shows us the highlights of the site. It's like looking through a window into a past world forever frozen at the moment the volcano exploded and covered their world. We walk the excavated streets, stepping back in time, past the grooves of cart wheels etched into the stone, looking into ruins that were shops, stables and family villas. The spring sun is bright and warm in the early morning. Who lived here? What were they doing when their world ended? Our guide tells stories how people lived. He describes the significance of paintings on the walls and the way houses were arranged. One of the homes has a nice layout. I'd like my house to have a central open-air courtyard, with bedrooms and other living areas all opening out to this outdoor "room" with shrubs, garden, fountain and a bench in the sun. Pompei is another place that invites further exploration and thought. All too soon, it's time to get back on the bus! We have a schedule to keep. Today we go north to Assisi.

The wheels on the bus go round and round. We sit, sometimes talking, sometimes snoozing, sometimes listening to Marco, and sometimes looking out the window. Our route takes us through varying landscapes. The weather becomes overcast as we head north. Our lunch is at another highway road stop. Again it's okay, convenient and predictable. The group is fed and serviced efficiently, cafeteria style. Coffee is served at the bar not the restaurant. We are getting the hang of the Italian way of things on the road. With our most basic needs met, we continue until arriving at the town of Assisi.

An earthquake over a year ago has shaken things up in Assisi. In addition to costly repairs, hotels are now having to scramble to fill available rooms. Marco is somewhat pleased about this because in the past, many of the hotels had no qualms about renting out already reserved rooms to a higher bidder. Because there was such a great demand, a tour guide could get stuck without rooms for his group. Things are different now. We are assured rooms in a hotel that will take good care of us.

Our bus cannot drive through the small medieval town streets. We disembark and walk to our hotel. Fortunately someone else will bring our luggage. That's another advantage of tour travel. We settle into our assigned room, enjoying the expansive view of the town rooftops and valley beyond. The day is chilly, gray and overcast. We try to get warm while waiting for our luggage to be delivered. After a rest, we go downstairs to dinner in the hotel. It's a nice meal, the usual pasta, some mystery meat or more pasta and some sort of dessert. Wine is extra and we get a bottle of water instead. It's nice to get to know our fellow travelers and fun to watch Mom be a bit of a troublemaker. People tell stories of places they have traveled, brag about grandchildren and share bits and pieces of their lives. The coffee dilemma resurfaces. Mom drinks her American coffee with her meals, something the Italians just don't understand. Coffee is not included in the price of the meal. It doesn't make sense to many Americans, Mom included. This evening we retire to the bar after dinner and Mom has her coffee.

Thursday, April 16, 1998

The more hardy travelers of the group brave the cold rainy weather for a walking tour of the town. Mom and I choose the warmth and dryness of the hotel lobby to relax. Neither of us have a desire to get sick and spend time sneezing and blowing our noses. We venture out briefly for a walk down the main street and into the big church. Afterwards, the hotel lobby beckons with its nice view and warm tea and coffee. The group returns. Once again we re-board the bus for travel to Venice.

Marco continues his ongoing monologue. There is dissention on the bus. It turns out some of our fellow passengers are less than enamoured with the constant solo discourse by our sometimes entertaining guide. Of course, we hear all about that over the bus microphone as well. There is silence for a while. Other troops rally and request some information be imparted. Ah, the challenges of group dynamics in enclosed spaces for periods of time.

On our way north, we stop briefly at a church in Ravenna to look at beautiful mosaics. Once again, our time is so brief, a moment for impressions, photos and the purchase of a few postcards. The local guide marches us from one masterpiece to the next, look here, over there, and in this alcove… Our group moves here, then there and in a short moment, we are back on the bus. I am very interested in the mosaics. I wonder if there is a tour group with a focus on mosaics, sort of a live art history class. That would be a fun trip to take. I am here now, enjoying these glimpses, getting ideas for return visits. There are so many interesting and wonderful places in the world. The variety of people, art, food and culture is immense.

 

Floor tile in Ravenna.

Mom and I fall into an easy rhythm of togetherness. We share observations and watch out for each other. We enjoy many of the same things, textiles, flowers, landscapes, learning about people. The best part for me is being able to share this time together. Still, I worry that Mom will have a good time. I want her to be happy, to enjoy herself. Occasionally I remember it is not my responsibility, but I can't help myself wanting her to be happy, to be proud of me. The dynamics of mothers and daughters, am I the daughter always looking for approval?

In the late afternoon we arrive in Venice. The bus drops us off near a dock where we will meet our gondolas. We have signed up for the dusk ride through the canals, complete with serenade. Ah, the joys of tourism. It's chilly, but the falling light touches everything and everyone with a lovely warm pinkish glow. Our small flotilla proceeds, past ancient buildings and under bridges. Other tourists look at us as we drift past. The voice of our singer is un-inspirational but he and all of us manage to have fun. Occasionally I catch site of the inside of some local's apartment and wonder what it is like to live here. We glide past balconies sporting wonderful potted floral gardens. This is so cliché. It is so wonderful, like riding camels near the pyramids in Egypt, or going to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Taking a gondola ride in Venice should be done at least once.

Hotels in Venice are prohibitively expensive for a group like ours. We are staying on the mainland in a Ramada. It's the most international and least charismatic of the hotels we stay in, but it's clean and comfortable. A night sleep in a good bed in a quiet room is a good thing.

Traveling with another person ads a different dimension. I have my view of what I'm seeing. I also wonder what Mom is experiencing. We each have our own degrees of enjoyment and cynicism. It's interesting to observe the dynamics between the other Mother-Daughter pairs that are traveling together. Mom and I mosey along together, pausing for each other as we point out nice views or funny vignettes. One daughter has spent the bulk of this trip encased in headphones listening to music and reading. I guess she doesn't want to see the sites or talk with her Mom. Why bother traveling together at all? Another pair seems to have an easy teasing relationship, but they watch out for each other. There is an additional Mother/Daughter team traveling with us but not on the bus. It turns out that Marco's wife and daughter are following our tour bus in their car. They meet up with Marco each night in the hotel. Occasionally they join us for an excursion. Part of Marco's monologue includes what he thinks are humorous put downs of his wife and bragging about his children. The bragging I can handle, the put downs I cannot. I think there are others who are unhappy with the negative narration. We have been introduced to the relatives. They seem like nice people.

Friday, April 17, 1998

In the morning we cruse around the Venetian Bay and through the canals. Our next stop is the fishing and lace-making island of Burano. The boat buzzes through the canals and across the bay. It is difficult to hear the commentary of the guide on his inadequate microphone over the grumble of the boat engine. The day is overcast and a bit drippy. We sit huddled in our warmest clothes, watching the sights go by, lost in our individual reveries. I almost don't want to get out of the boat when we get to Burano. But, out we go, on to more explorations. It is a picturesque place with small row houses painted a multitude of colors, a different one for each fisherman's home. In the past, while the men were off fishing, the women kept busy making lace to earn extra money. I'm not sure how current those traditions are today. The island capitalizes on it's past with lots of lace shops. Many of the goods for sale look imported and machine made. As with anything, you have to know what you are looking for. We enjoy looking at the work. Some of it is lovely and rather expensive. It takes a long time to do one tablecloth by hand.

Lunch is a group affair in a fun place that is cozy with pictures and prints covering every inch of wall space. The members of our group are relaxing as we get to know each other better. We pass the bread, pour the wine and swap stories and observations. We oh and ah over each other's purchases and in general share a good time. The meal is again, pasta and then a fish dish or two. Marco talks up the establishment as one of the highlights of fine dining. It is nice food, especially considering they are serving over thirty of us at one time. For me, it's the ambiance and company that make the memories.

The boat returns us to the main part of Venice. Mom and I wander around for the afternoon. We go to the church and admire the mosaics and artwork. We wander in and out of shops, and stop for afternoon coffee and tea. There is no specific destination or desire. We follow what ever catches our eye. I am trying to find a warmer raincoat. So far, I've not found the right thing. The looking is fun. After a while all the shops feel like a shopping mall with an Italian flair. American mass merchandising has brought so many goods to our doorstep that it is difficult to find anything truly special. Today, the places we visit are geared to tourists. They have lots of stuff made in great volumes with limited care. It's more fun to watch the people, to pause and listen to a street band. In one of the main squares is an elegant coffeehouse complete with a quartet serenading patrons and passers by. They play theTitanic movie theme song to much applause; it is the appeal of the familiar.

Saturday, April 18, 1998

Time to go, away and ho! We've been on our travel tour for one very busy week. This morning, it's up and pack and breakfast and bus on to Varese via Verona. There is no time for slacking on this tour. It is good to experience both the structured, preplanned form of travel and the loose, figure it out as you go voyage. Both have their pros and cons. Mom likes to have things prearranged. Going with a tour is great. We can enjoy each other's company, let someone else take care of the details and not have to keep second-guessing each other about what to do next. When traveling solo, I do what ever I want to. When unplanned travel includes a companion, the day requires negotiation. What do you want to do? I don't know how about this or that or I really wanted to go here but then you wanted to go there. Then it's a dance of compromises. If expectations aren't discussed ahead of time, or you and your travel partner don't communicate, then everyone is set up for disappointment. That's why it is great to have everything laid out ahead of time for Mom and I. We don't have to worry about the details and can have fun just being together.

 

Happy tourists on the road.

For now, our assignment is to sit on the bus, in our proper seat rotation and watch the countryside go by. On our way north and west we stop in the town of Verona. The town is fresh in the morning sunlight. Things feel better when the sun is out. We walk the streets, meeting up at the house of Romeo and Juliet. They didn't really exist, but the courtyard and buildings are a tribute to romance and graffiti. Etched and painted everywhere, on walls, doors, pillars are the multinational "John + Mary 4 Ever" and "True Love", and other demonstrations of undying affection. A balcony overhead brings visions of late night soliloquies and the swells of media enhanced romance from Shakespeare's theater to Hollywood's cinema. Love's hope springs eternal, to be met with tragedy, cynicism or happily every after? I hope for a reality better than any imagining. Some day my prince will come.

In the meantime, we continue to the market square and observe the fine art of preparing local artichokes from a charismatic market vendor. She is a minor celebrity, having been highlighted in an American cookbook about artichokes. Our group surrounds her as she shows us the proper method to trim and prepare artichokes for cooking. Her hands must be freezing. Her ungloved hands grab the artichoke, with a knife she cuts off the top, trims the excess stem, rinses it in a bucket of water and arranges the finished product in the display basket. Those things have little spikes on the end of every petal, ouch! It is a wonderful performance that is greatly appreciated.

Back on the bus, we ride through more pretty countryside. Marco directs the bus off the beaten path in search of some small lunch place that he knows. It's a change from the usual highway special. We stop at a bar/restaurant on a country side rode. Marco claims they make the most marvelous melted cheese sandwiches. We all must try them and like them. There's not much choice. It's our only option for lunch; of course we give it a try. There is also the special local wine that goes so well. Marco goes on and on about the sandwich and the proprietress of the establishment. I begin to wonder if she is a girlfriend or is it just gossip on a bus full of nosey Americans? Overall we are traveling with a really nice group of people. There is a balance between keeping an eye out for one another and respect for other's space. One or two tend to require special instructions, but on the whole, things with our group go smoothly.

Our afternoon excursion is a quick visit in Switzerland to the lake town of Lugano. It's a crisp, quaint resort town. Everything is clean. We are encouraged to shop for watches and other goodies. The shop windows glitter with watches, jewelry, spring fashions, chocolates and pastries. Everything is arranged to delight the eye and temp the wallet. The locals are having their Saturday afternoon shopping stroll. The streets are busy with people of all ages looking and walking, some with bags, many without. Mom and I glance in the stores and pause briefly at a flea market in a nearby street. Eventually we join the multitudes in one of the cafes for coffee, hot chocolate and a chance to watch the world go by. The large square is beautifully cobbled. The buildings are clean and in good repair. The lake across the main road glistens in the afternoon sun. The spring flowers are everywhere in planters and along walkways. This is so very civilized.

At the allotted time, we return to our designated rendezvous location and again, re-board the bus. We return to Italy and our hotel for this evening in Varese. The hotel is a large place that looks like it was lovely country hotel resort at one time. It is still a stately building with large ceilings, expansive views of the countryside and large, comfortable rooms. Because of its size and remote location, it must be an expensive business proposition. The building and grounds are costly to heat and maintain. The town is not in a central tourist area. I hope they do okay, this is a nice hotel. We have a wonderful room with a grand view.

After our bags are delivered to our room, we get settled then go downstairs for dinner. The coffee with dinner debate continues to simmer. Marco tries to make some sort of amusement out of it. Mom just wants coffee with her meal. Our guide is quite the glib talker, going on and on. Overall he takes fairly good care of orchestrating the group and getting us happily from one destination to the next. His fatal flaw is his inability to listen. Especially when he does not want to deal with what is being said. Lack of airport to hotel transfer becomes a matter of company policy. Yes, the policy is understood but some creative thinking and a small amount of acknowledgement would go a long way toward good will. There are several travelers who have similar complaints. Unaddressed, these small nits allowed to fester become major dissatisfactions. Oh well, there's always something.

Sunday, April 19, 1998

We spend a tourist morning in Milan, wandering the Duomo and climbing the steps for a wonderful view of the city through the fancy stone work on the top of the church. Our group is left to fend for ourselves. We run into each other as we explore the area. The sunshine feels good. I am grumpy and sense that Mom is in an argumentative mood. We tip-toe around it. Eventually we manage to work our way back to some form of enjoyment. A solid week of togetherness and lack of personal down time is a challenge. Both of us are used to having solo time.

Our visit in Milan is brief. We get back on the bus travel on to another scenic lakes. We have a nice lunch in a "special" pizza place. The day continues with a tour of a palace on an island in the lake. It is a grand affair, another monument to what can be built with money. We have pleasant Sunday outing, enjoying the sun's warmth and blooming springtime flowers. One of the older women on our tour has a fall or a seizure of some sort. We stand around wondering how to help.

Marco gets a look of dread on his face. His daughter and wife are a great help in the crisis. The women's daughter and granddaughter are travelling with her. She is well cared for. In the end we are encouraged to continue on with the Palace tour.

When we return to our bus, we learn that the woman will be fine, it's happened before. It makes our group a bit thoughtful, about illness and health. We've learned more about each other's aches and pains. We compare notes about headaches and back aches. There is a fair amount of advice as well as medicines being passed around. Some of it much more exotic that aspirin or Tylenol. My own thought is that you should be careful of what you take and not "share" or dispense medicines. You never know someone else's history or what just one more medicine will do to their chemical soup. We are so quick to try and medicate the pain away when often our bodies are telling us to stop, rest, listen, change what you're doing. One of our fellow travelers came to the Italy after a tour in Turkey. She has some bug that she is trying to medicate with drugs someone else has given her. They helped, or masked the pain for a day and a half. I don't think she looks or feel that great now. It makes me want to stay as healthy as I can, eat right, exercise, and think good thoughts.

The advantages of this approach are seen in one older couple. They continue to stride on, not the fastest, not the slowest. They seem to take real pleasure in each moment of the tour. Mom and I found out that she is in remission from cancer treatments and they are taking advantage of the time when she is feeling better. They are in there 70s but have a stamina that many of the heavier, younger and less fit of our group do not. It turns out that they have been swimming every day for most of their lives. I think they also have a very positive and open way of looking at life.

Dinner at the hotel again. Marco and the hotel attempt to address the coffee issue with free bottles of wine for Mom. She shares it with our table and we all have a fine time, telling silly stories. It was fun getting slightly tipsy with Mom and the others. I don't drink that much and two glasses of wine will get to me. We loosen up and have an enjoyable meal after our day of touring. What they fail to understand is Mom still wants her American coffee with dinner.

Monday, April 20, 1998

We depart from our nice hotel in Northern Italy. It is time to begin our journey south. The bus rumbles through the busy city of Genoa. We stop briefly on the side of a thoroughfare, climb out of the bus, scurry down the street to see where Christopher Columbus lived. Yup, there it is folks. Take your photos and then get back on the bus. We can't park here too long. Descriptions of activities in the travel brochures are experienced differently in reality. Some of our excursions are more impressive than others. The brochure says ... "Then we head down the coast to Pisa to see the extraordinary Leaning Tower, before arriving in Florence, cradle of the Renaissance and former stronghold of the Medici family."

Marketing literature describes this tour with flowery phrases and lovely locales. The experience we have is what we choose to make of it. For me, the most important part of this trip is the time I have with my Mother. The places are a backdrop, a beautiful, colorful, interesting range of locales, sights, smells and tastes. We are good tourists, gamely trying everything, following Marco's lead as he points out various sites. We have our fun, sharing opinions, making comments, and offering advice between ourselves about how the business of the tour should be handled. It's a comfortable flow of ideas, observations and idle chatter that make up the fabric of a special relationship. I am thankful.

 

Arches in a building near the tower of Piza.

We have about two hours on our own in Pisa. Mom and I wander around the grounds, looking at the buildings. College kids and other tourists enjoy the spring sunshine and famous local. There is a street along the side of the grass that is filled with souvenir sellers, everything from metal models of "The Leaning Tower" to scarves with family crests. There is something for everyone. We go in and out of the Churches. You can't climb The Tower, it is leaning too much. Mom and I remember when our whole family was here about 25 years ago. We spent the summer in Europe while my Father was studying. When we visited Pisa before, we were able climb The Tower. Then, there were fewer visitors and a handful of shops. Progress and commerce provides opportunities for more of us to travel. I feel thoughtful, for our past, the good time we had as a family and how we all have changed. Also, Mom and I are nearing the end of our tour. It's more than half over. I begin to nervously anticipate her departure. I will be sad to have her go.

But there is no time to focus on the future. Back on the bus, we've got to get to Florence today! Marco talks up, with great embellishment and anticipation, the optional excursion dinner this evening. It is a meal in a former Medici palace, resplendent with costumed waiters, theatrical presentations and magnificent food. We get to our hotel. It is okay, not great, but Florence is an expensive city. We get dressed up and ready for dinner. For Mom, this is natural. She is elegant in everything she does. Her daughter is much less so. After months of traveling with a "functional" wardrobe, getting fancy is limited to a dress and pantyhose with the same old clunky travel shoes. We put on a bit of makeup and are off.

We enter an ornate setting and are greeted by Renaissance music played by flute, harp and tambourine musicians. Our hosts are in period costume. Candles, mirrors, yards of curtains and lots of gold opulance on the walls create a warm, festive ambiance. Tonight we are fortunate to be the only small group attended to. We are seated at tables in a large room. The actors in costume entertain us with juggling, magic tricks and other amusements. It is very festive. "Volunteers" from the audience are chosen at various times to perform tricks or be tricked. I am selected at one point and taken to another room with three others. We are costumed over our clothes. At the appropriate moment we stride out with the performers and attempt some sort of period dance. Performing in front of a group of people is not my first choice of a good time, but I try to have fun with it all. Various courses of food are served throughout the amusements. The food itself is not overly memorable, but good. Altogether, it is a very enjoyable evening.

 

Grand entrance as a Medici dancer.

Tuesday, April 21, 1998

Our group tromps faithfully through the early morning tour of Florence. The first stops are in shops for gold and leather. These are places where we can get a "good deal" on specialties of the region. Mom and I look, some others buy. It's an exhausting amount of stuff. Much of it is available back home. I am here to share the experiences with Mom. We look hard, in the shops and at the store windows. In the end, even though it would be nice to get something special, the only thing that is really special is spending time together.

Eventually our tour takes us to the main square of Florence. It is packed with spring tourists. We dutifully look this way and that then escape to less crowded side streets. Marco has talked up an opera being performed tonight. A few of us have decided to go. We make our way over to the theater and get tickets. Afterward we eat lunch in a place that has a Northern Californian bent. It's interesting how cultures cross back and forth. Through media and our ability to travel we know more about each other. In the afternoon, we continue looking at shops. I finally manage to find a warmer coat. It's a red overcoat; functionality combined with fashion. The springtime temperatures are still colder than the clothes I brought for tropical Asia.

We make our way back to the hotel for a rest. Later there is another group dinner in a local restaurant. Of course, there is pasta. The opera is an interesting experience, albeit not a stellar musical performance. It goes on and on, including extensive intermissions. Mom and I leave after the third of four acts. There are limits to the amount of culture one can absorb. We manage to catch the bus back to our hotel. Guilty, we stand at the back of the bus. We don't have a ticket. This bus does not have an automatic ticket dispenser like an early bus we had taken. It's a short ride and we manage to escape detection.

Wednesday, April 22, 1998

Up, shower, pack, bags out, breakfast, on the bus, we are headed back to Rome. A combination of PMS, Mom's impending departure and the fallout of four months of malaria pills are leaving me a bit tender and teary. It is one of the challenges of being "sensitive". I am a survivor and a trouper, so I troupe on. Besides, the tour is not over yet. There is another day filled with touristic adventures. On our way to Rome, we stop for a walking tour of Sienna. It's a lovely hillside town filled with legends and small windy roads. Being on this tour is a great way to get daily exercise. We are led through various point of town, presented with different lovely vistas of the area and then allowed an hour for our own wanderings. The day is bright with a bit of a chill. Mom and I explore briefly and then settle into a coffee shop for some warm relaxation. On our way back to meet the group, we get some of the local nougat candy. It is sweet and nutty. We savor our treat when we are settled back on the bus.

By mid afternoon the bus arrives in Rome. Due to Easter week and other scheduling changes, we have missed part of the visit to the Vatican. This afternoon we return there. We make our own visit of the Vatican because we had not purchased the earlier special tour. As we stroll through the hallways overflowing with precious artifacts, I keep thinking that a lot of people died so the Church could have all these goodies. Were the crusades were more about gathering wealth than seeking religious fulfillment? It's a complicated business, man's relationship to power and wealth and the dynamics between the haves and the have-nots. Is any church different than a dictator that requires payments for protection and services? We are so human, no matter what robes we wear. Greed and desire for power make interesting politics. On the other hand, the Vatican is a very impressive place. It would not exist without the "contributions" of the masses. We need our larger than life monuments. They cannot be created without cash.

 

Tile floor in Roman church.

Marco hands out the "feedback forms" and other literature on the bus today. It would be interesting to see the comments. The papers include a review, logistics for getting to the airport and a special club that gives you five-percent discount on your next trip with this company. Marketing and merchandising in full force. Even so, our attentions are shifting to the next chapter. For Marco, it's the next tour group. For Mom the airplane trip home. For me, the question of where I go next on my solo travels. Mom and I decline getting on any more mailing lists. The blatant hard sell and false warmth is a bit much. The trip was good. We saw lots, had fun and enjoyed ourselves.

Sightseeing completed, we return to our bus and go to our hotel. The last night is in a very comfortable place outside of the city but closer to the airport. We check in, get our room, rest and then head out for our final dinner together with the tour group. Things are coming to a close. Most of the group will head out tomorrow, home and to other destinations. Mom is staying one more day. I am glad she couldn't get a flight out earlier. It will give us one more day together to unwind.

The last dinner of the tour is another pasta affair. The food is good. There is antipasto, lots of bread, and of course wine. We exchange addresses and final stories with our fellow travelers. The stories are more revealing. We will not see each other after tonight. Overall, I think everyone has enjoyed their experiences. The final visit of our tour is to Trevi fountains. We toss coins into the fountain to ensure our return. You never know what the future brings.

Thursday, April 23, 1998

Mom and I are exhausted after the marathon march through Italy. When I look back, I'm amazed at how much ground we covered, how much we saw and walked! Today we get up leisurely and take the hotel bus into Rome. I have visions of strolling through boutique lined streets and having a special lunch in a great little bistro. Reality is a bit different. I've decided to stay in Rome a day or two longer to rest up and adjust to traveling on my own again. The hotel we are in now is expensive so Mom and I look into a few alternatives in Rome. I don't mind the wandering. To me it's part of the experience of learning about a place. The uncertainty and unappealing hotels we look at horrify Mom. Eventually, we have to stop for food. I'm very hungry. I kept going and walking when I should have stopped to eat. I'm tired and feeling very lonely at the thought of Mom leaving. The quaint bistro I imagine is a bowl of soup and roll at a sidewalk café. Not the meal of my imagining. It adds up to me tired and tearful. Mom doesn't want to leave her poor baby alone in Rome. She urges me to come home with her, but I have my five-month mission to complete. The survivor self is proving something, but right now, it's not clear what that something is.

We make our way back to the bus stop and catch the ride back to our hotel. Mom makes an executive decision that I should stay in our hotel for at least two more nights and arranges to make it so. I feel good to have some breathing room to figure out my next steps and readjust to solo travel. We have a nice, long stroll around the grounds of the hotel before dinner. Originally we had planned to dine in the restaurant, but we pass one of our fellow travelers having a club sandwich in the bar. It looks good so we join her. Sometimes the casual can be more enjoyable.

Friday, April 24, 1998

Up early, neither Mom or I slept well because of emotions and nervousness to catch the bus to the airport on time. I am so sad to see Mom leave. I am so glad we had the time together. All too soon, Mom is through the gates and I am on my own.

I take the train to Rome and spend the day wandering around in search of a place to get my email and computer fix. At the train station information counter I learn of a student travel assistance place nearby. From them I find the name and address of a cyber café in Rome. I'm back in my travel exploration mode. A local bus drops me nearby. First I stop to get a sandwich for a lunch picnic. I try a shop where the locals stop to get their lunch sandwiches. It is not too far from a university. I select something I think looks good but the counter person also gives me a sample of another type of sandwich. I settle myself in the park and try the choices. His extra sandwich is so much better than the one I chose. I am very thankful for this gift of kindness when I really need it. It makes getting through this lonely day a bit easier.

The cyber café is a familiar retreat for a few hours. I enjoy reconnecting to the folks back home after being out of touch. I feel better. Eventually, after a long, roundabout walk, I get to the bus to take me back to the hotel. I have a sort of picnic dinner from breakfast leftovers, read and then get some needed rest. I hope Mom's flight home is okay. Gradually I'll get myself back into solo travel mode, for now, sleep.