Back in old Napoli That's Amore

So right now my computer has more viruses than Bret Michaels, but I still wanted to do a closing Italy post, so I'll put up the accompanying pictures later.

Friday was our last full day in Italy. We left Vietri Sul Mare around 8:15, and drove to Naples so we could see the giant flaming piles of trash Naples Archeological Museum, where they keep all sorts of fabulous things, but mostly the artifacts they dug up from Pompeii. The streets were indeed lined with garbage, and as we waited in line to get into the museum, the lucky few who had to wait outside all had their hands across their mouths, sort of like when Pompeii was hit by Vesuvius back in '79. The museum used to be the royal stables, and as we climbed the stairs to the first gallery, Terri, our new friend, leaned over and said "I bet the horses hated these stairs." Awesome.

We saw some fantastic mosaics, gorgeous frescoes, including one of what Vesuvius probably looked like before it blew its top all those years ago. We spent a charming 15 minutes in what I like to call "Penis Land," where they kept all the excavated naughty bits, and related, er, etchings. There was a lot of man on goat action, which made the following story very sad.

Lizzie and I are bad people, and have been wondering how the Italian folks we've seen have remained so thin, when they eat ALL THE TIME. You can guess at the theories we tossed around, and one of the turns out is not so far off. Back during the time of Pompeii, the rich folks would have giant banquets about 4 times a year, and they would eat eat eat eat eat and eat until they made themselves sick, go to a room they called THE VOMITORIUM, for reals, and puke their guts up, and then eat some more. Ugh. That is some unhealthy living, folks. I was discussing this with Terri, and I said "How much do you think the slaves preparing this food that ended up being wasted hated their masters?" and she said "And it's even worse because the goat they were cooking was probably their girlfriend at one time." And there was much laughter.

We left the museum, and drove back up to Rome, where we took a siesta before dinner. This would be our last dinner together, and the woman who had at the beginning of the trip told us she wanted to leave without us (who we'd been calling Vacation Boss) kicked Gary off the bus, and reminded us that we needed to tip our tourguide. No shit. Thanks, vacation boss, the sun certainly wouldn't know to rise in the East and set in the West without you telling it to do so. At dinner, there was a 60-something Italian man with white hair playing a Casio keyboard (with the back beat key doop doop doop doop) and several of the folks on tour with us began dancing to the psuedo Italian music (Dean Martin standards) while the servers and other guests looked on in horror. On the ride back, our last ride together, Vacation boss insisted that we all sing Auld Lang Syne, and Lizzie and I opted out, as did our friends. Then they sang the happy birthday song (which translates to "good wishes to you") to themselves, and hugs all around. Weird. We had drinks with Stew and Terri, because we are going to miss them.

Neither Lizzie or I could sleep on the flight home, and when we finally got into JFK, we taxied for an hour and a half. This led to some barely contained rage, which was exacerbated when, upon landing in Logan, they changed the baggage carousel on us several times. Still, made it home safely, and my biggest regret is that Victorio didn't meet me at the airport to convince me to stay and raise goats with him to clean up the garbage. We could've been something, Victorio. Here's looking at you, kid...

OMG Pompeii. It is no secret that I am a big fat nerd. Lizzie and I were in our nerdish glory today on our visit to Pompeii, and the only thing that could've made it better would have been if the grounds had been closed off to other tourists, who were in the way of us getting our nerd on. We got to Pompeii early in the morning, with Vesuvius looming over us with a psuedo innocent expression on (I'm just a mountain, la la la BOOM SUPRISE VOLCANO!) The eruption that destroyed Pompeii happened in 79AD, when Pompeii was a bustling Roman city of about 18,000 (it had originally been settled by the Greeks, but was conquered by the Romans eventually, as all things are.) The city was supposedly under the watchful eye of Venus, but she was busy washing her hair during the four-day event that choked the city with poisonous gasses before dumping 20-40 feet of ash on it. There were some survivors, who lived to tell the story, but they considered the city to be ill favored by the gods, and eventually it was forgotten until mid 16th century.

The ruins are amazingly preserved, ash being good for that. The roads are in pristine condition (including with the over-the-shit stepping stones), and it's easy to tell which rooms were used for what--bakery, private villas, food markets, etc. (apparently the citizens of Pompeii were famous for a disgusting oil that they squeezed out of fish, let rot in the sun for 10 days, and combined with some herbs--sounds like Vesuvius was sort of doing them a favor). We saw an old laundry, slave quarters, two theaters, and the amazing forum and market place. The most crowded room (no surprise) was the brothel, which had detailed frescoes of people in various stages and forms of coitus, as a menu of sorts. (Yeaaaah, I'll take a number 7...no, make that a number 5, and Super size that, please.) The rooms had super hard rock slabs to serve as beds, which meant you got some free exfoliation at the same time as your STD.

In the big open forum, they kept the plaster casts they'd made of bodies they'd found. When excavating, if they hit something that sounded hollow, they'd make a small hole and fill it with plaster, leaving an amazing likeness of the poor person or animal that had been suffocated. There was one plaster cast of a boy crouching and holding a hankie over his face, and a woman they call the "pregnant lady," 'cause she's got a round little belly. Sheesh. What if you were having a fat day and that's when Vesuvius blew? For all eternity (or as long as your plaster holds up) you're going to be the pregnant lady, even if you're not. People say that Pompeii is haunted, and if I were that lady I'd be like "oooOooOoOOOh I just had too big a serving of fish oil that day and am retaining water....NOT PREGNANT...OoooOoohhhh!" Apparently the archeaologists are now doing plaster casts of the root systems of plants, so they can see what the vegetation was like. Awesome!

After Pompeii we went to Naples (through the slums) to a vineyard at the base of Vesuvius, and then back to our hotel. Lizzie and I explored the little town by our hotel, and it's sort of amazing how the North End of Boston really resembles it. They're famous for their cermaic up here, but (time to be an ugly American) most of it looks like something (as Lizzie noted) that you can find at Ocean State Job Lot.

Tomorrow we're heading back to Rome, where, you know, all roads lead...

Everyone Loves Capri Sun

Buona Sera!

Guess what Lizzie and I wore today to the Isle of Capri? (I bet my Dad will get this...) Capris! Capri is a hot, crowded tourist trap, but a beautiful hot, crowded tourist trap. We got up with the sun and took an hour and a half boat ride out to Capri. Once there, our group of 40 had to squeeze onto two mini busses, and there weren't enough seats, so Lizzie and I had the pleasure of sitting on a makeshift fold out seat which fit (sort of) in the aisle. I was squeezed between three enormous men and one enormous woman, who bitched the whole time about how uncomfortable she was. I wanted to punch her, but I had lost all feeling in my arms. The drive was your usual treacherous coastal drive, complete with hair pin turns and plummet-to-your-death cliffs, but when we got to the top (to the town of Ana Capri) the view was stunning. We heard all about where Tiberius Ceasar held his orgies (anywhere he wanted) and how he used to make people "fly" off the cliffs by his villa if he was bored, or if they displeased him. We did a little shopping (very little--Jackie Onassis bought her sandals at Capri, which shows how far out of our price range they are) had some lunch, and then went for a walk. At 2, we crammed back onto the mini busses, and hit the even more crowded town of Capri.

Capri is very haute couture, and all sorts of rich celebrities visit. I suppose this is a selling point, but it's really just crowded and expensive, and my favorite part was the walk to the Augustus Ceasar Gardens, which offered spectacular views of the sparkling blue water. By the end of the afternoon, we were exhausted, and lined up to take the funicular down to the port. Good lord. The funicular has not been updated since Capri was a quiet hide away in the '60s. It's absolutely mobbed, and people are pushing, shoving, cutting in line, and it's much worse than even the Kenmore Square subway stop after a Sox Game, if you can believe it. I had some serious rage, as did Lizzie, and we were contemplating the benefits of causing an international incident by elbow dropping this one bastard all the way down the cliff. We barely made it in time to board our boats, and mostly slept on the boatride home. There at the port, Victorio (on whom I have a crush) was waiting for us. If Victorio had been driving the mini busses, he wouldn't have made us sit on a cardboard flap crammed between two sets of angry, sweaty tourists.

Now we are decompressing in our hotel room, and will head down to the bah later for some diet coke (or, as the server at the restaurant called it, American champagne) our earlier food poisoning severely limiting our food and drink choices. A little while ago we heard some awful Italian techno music pounding up from the beach, which I believe was a sound check, which in turn leaves me in breathless anticipation of the real event.

You owe me some protection monies, I believe

Happy birthday to me

Greetings! You'll be glad to know that Lizzie and I have survived the great food poisoning of '11. We were even able to eat a little today without forcefully ejecting it from our bodies seconds later. We are both a little weak on our feet, and won't be entering any hot dog eating contests soon, but after the hell of yesterdy, it is good to have just a plain ol' stomachache instead of projectile vomiting.

We both got up around 7, cautiously ate some dry bread, and waited. When nothing other than piteous groaning happened, we decided to celebrate my birthday in style, by going to tour a buffalo farm. Lizzie serenaded me, followed by the rest of our bus mates, and I regaled them with tales of how I was lucky to make it to this birthday. Who doesn't like hearing about other people's barf adventures? (Note, this did not dissuade one of our fellow tour members from filling his water bottle up from the tap in the bathroom at the buffalo farm. I do not suspect that things will go well for him. LEARN FROM OUR MISTAKES)

We drove an hour and a half to the buffalo farm, and saw the buffalo doing various buffalo things, like pooping, and scratching, and sniffing each other's butts. I felt a little vomity, but it passed once we were out of the stench. They let everyone have a sample of their organic mozerella cheese, but Lizzie and I declined, not wanting to break our 4 hour vomit free streak.

After the tour (where they tried to sell us expensive leather...so sad) we went to Paestum, which is the site of some cool old Greek temple ruins that predate the parthenon. The Greeks occupied this part of Rome a bazillion years ago, and when the Romans came, they just used the old Greek temple and built a couple of their own. The ruins were super interesting, and they let you climb around in it, except for in the temples themselves. I wish we'd been feeling better, because there would've been some serious exploring, but we did almost get attacked by two Lizards, who were fighting, fell off the stone wall, almost landing on our heads. I don't normally find Lizards very frightening, but I still do not want two angry lizards falling on my head. We also visited the associated museum, and saw lots of hot dude on dude frescoes. (Does the plural of fresco have an e?) Seriously though, the Greeks and Romans were not into exaggeration, and all their naked dude paintings were, well, let's just say cute as a button. There was one of two guys sword fighting (not a euphemism), covered in blood, but naked. If I were going to be a solider during the Roman empire, I would ask for some damn underwear, at the very least. (Preferably sandals, too, oh, and some pants. And a shirt. And maybe some armor).

Interestingly, Paestrum is where the American troops landed back in 1943, and there was some heavy fighting in the town. Our guide, Pina (as in Colada) seemed miffed that the Americans landed there, and one of our group said, crabbily, "Well you shouldn't have let Mussolini take over then, should you have? We came to save your mother or grandmother." Hee.

So we're going to attempt a small bit of dinner later, to further celebrate my accrual of another year. I'll let you know if it stays where it's supposed to. The rest of you go have a giant piece of cake for me! (Look at me wearily holding my guts in that picture. Ugh)

Any way the wind blows; doesn't really matter to me

Sunday we left Rome to drive down to Vietri Sul Mare, where we're staying now. It was a long drive, and we stopped for a rest break at a Cameo factory, which was sold to us as a special excursion, when in reality it is obviously a deal between the factory and the tour company to make money off of us, but I digress. Gary, our tour guide, gave us really interesting information on the history of Rome as we drove, but when we crossed into Naples, which is sadly run down, he gave us a lesson about the mafia. Apparently Southern Italy is run by the mob. Organized crime controls everything, and any politician who tries to drive them out ends up murdered. This has been stifling the economy, as no industry wants to move to the South and have to deal with the payoffs, etc., so there's a high level of unemployment. There was a huge problem with garbage a few years ago, and the Italian government had to have the army bring in garbage trucks to take care of the problem.

The Neapolitans are not so concerned with another looming threat either: Vesuvius. Vesuvius last blew in the 40s, destroying the funicular this song is about. It is estimated tht it will blow again around 2020. You would think some disaster planning would be prudent, but apparently they're lassiez-faire about the whole thing, and instead have a cliche that is "When Vesuvius goes..." meaning, when Vesuvius blows up, you will do all those horrible things you couldn't before, such as strangling your annoying children, etc. Gary told us they live very much day to day, their mindsets never too forward thinking, because who knows when you will be choked on volcanic gasses and die. It depends on which way the wind blows.

Past Naples we drove through the mountains. I am not afraid of heights, but this scared the hell out of me. Lizzie is afraid of heights, and was a big brave dog through the whole thing. Victorio, our driver, is a genius, and manuevered us through the terrifying cliffs on the windy road like it weren't no thing, the passengers making nervous little jokes the whole time to keep them from crying, I guess. We ended up in Ravello, a gorgeous little town on the cliffs, which had adorable stores, and kitties everywhere, which were obviously well loved. We drank our poison water, and explored a nearby villa, and then rode the rest of the way to Vietri Sul Mare. Our hotel room is so gorgeous, and has a patio overlooking the Mediterranean. If I hadn't spent the day puking my guts out, there would've been some beach time, but alas, at least we can see it.

Dinner was included yesterday, and we ate with our group, having the great fortune of sitting next to his hilarious couple, with whom we drank the red wine I suspected (falsely, sorry) of making me ill. The man, Stew, is a teacher, and talks about his students in the way, Lizzie noted, we expected that our teachers talked about us. My favorite was the story of how the teachers tape pictures of the children to targets at a shooting range, and relieve stress that way. Nice.

It should be noted that before dinner, we saw a mo-mullet. A mo-mullet is a mowhawk mullet combination, which defys any logic imaginable.

Bella Notte

When we last left our intrepid adventurers, before the aforementioned barfapalooza, we had just come back from a long day of sight-seeing. We took to our beds for a rest, and then for dinner at our hotel's roof terrace overlooking the city. It was stunning. Rome doesn't have any super tall buildings, so you can see for miles and miles (or kilometers and kilometers) and we drank delightful cocktails and ate these light fancy ham sammiches, and watched the sun setting.

At one point, a seagull landed on the roof with us, by our table, and walked over to where it had stashed an ash tray, which it started picking up and banging down. This idiot woman next to us thought it would be a good idea to reward that behaivor with food, and suddenly our seagull let out this ear splitting squawking. Not to brag or anything, but I have seen many a seagull in my time, and I have never in my life heard anything like the noise coming out of one. Have you seen the Little Mermaid? You know that part when Scuttle the seagull start serenading Ariel and Eric in the boat in an attempt to start up some sweet sweet love? That was the noise coming out of this bird (note--Lizzie pointed out that there was a mermaid weathervane by the birds--it probably was Scuttle.) This piercing ululating was a call to its friends, who showed up, mafia like, looking for their cut of our dinner. A waiter came out to swat at them, but they just took a step back, waiting...it was seriously creepy. When no more food was forthcoming, they banged the ashtray a few more times in a threatening manner, and then took off. Probably to poop in our water at the restaurant the next day.

Vomitus Maximus

Today started off like the set-up of the most traumatizing porno ever. We had to be ready to leave by 8:30, and I was not feeling well. I thought perhaps I had drank too much red wine last night, and there was much self-admonishment as Lizzie went down to get breakfast (and to alert the front desk that we had no toilet paper) and I stumbled into the shower. Once I was out, I heard a knock on the door, and, figuring it was Lizzie, ran towel-wrapped to let her in. CUE THE CHEESY PORN MUSIC. Upon opening the door, I discovered that it was a handsome hotel clerk, holding two rolls of toilet paper. Neither of us say anything as I stick out an arm (the one not holding my towel in place) take said toilet paper, immediately turn, run into the bathroom and vomit violently. Sexy, no? Lizzie comes back, and at this point she's feeling okay, so I foolishly chalk my illness up to a hangover, and drag my sweaty self onto the bus to Sorrento. I don't remember the hour and a half ride (but I do remember that Gary wouldn't stop talking about food, which was making me feel worse). When we get to Sorrento, Lizzie and I sit in a cafe, me groaning the whole time, unable to even drink the gingerale I had ordered. We decided then to skip out on the optional excursion down the Amalfi coast as I felt so awful, and waited in that cafe until it was time to grab the bus back home two hours later.

Fun Fact: If you feel like you are going to be sick on a bus, it is important to think ahead and bring the paper "for soiled lady products" bag with you.

The bus ride back to our hotel was a decidely horrific experience. The Amalfi coast road (which I will get to in a subsequent post) is windy and deadly with a precipitous drop on one side, and formiddable rock on the other. It's so curvy that drivers have to honk while going around corners so as not to ram into one another. I alternately felt feverish and freezing, and suddenly Lizzie started to look as bad as I felt, and I realized (duh) that I didn't have a hang over, we both had food poisoning. Yay. Gary of course yakked about food the whole ride, and then told this story about a person on his tour who hit his head, split it open, didn't realize it and crawled into bed subsequently bleeding for half the night (he was okay after 17 stitches) but I am already a squeamish mofo, and I thought I was going to die. The only thing Lizzie and I consumed in common was some water at a beautiful little restaurant in Ravello, which we now realize was probably tap water. There must've been some unfamiliar bacteria in it, and so, we have spent the past seven hours cycling between being passed out in bed, or crawling to the bathroom to dry heave. This is depressing, as it is beautiful out, and our room has its own patio. I really hope this bastard works its way out of our systems by tomorrow, because, as you know, it's my birthday, not my barfday, and I prefer not to spend it jockeying with my buddy for primo toilet position. I haven't eaten in nearly 12 hours, and there has not been even the slightest nod from my stomach that, perhaps some dry crackers would be okay. This is not encouraging. Time to dwell on our previous adventures.

P.S. The above picture shows the poisonous water. As Lizzie could probably tell you, that pizza may look delicious going down, but not so much coming up. Mine had anchovies on it. Yeah.

If it's not Baroque, then it's not the Trevi Fountain

Legend has it that if you toss a coin in here, you'll come back to Rome. I am going to start a new legend that says if you give me five dollars, you will also come back to Rome. (Five dollars poorer.) Also, damn, the citizens of Rome must be sick of all us tourists everywhere. Sure, the money is nice, but you can't even enjoy the fountain because there are too many damn people. They should change the legend to say "if you throw a coin in the Trevi fountain, your ear will fall off." Related, we have these "whisper" headsets we have to wear while on tour, and they are super annoying. I am left eared, and there's only one ear piece, fitted specifically for the right ear. I call bullshit.

My job? Fighting to the death. What's yours?

On the top you'll see a picture of a bunch of tourists (THERE ARE SO MANY OF US) in front of Constantine's arch. Constantine was the Emperor who legalized Christianity in the 4th century. On the right, you'll see the Colosseum, where, pre legalization, the Christians were fed to lions. After the great fire in AD 64, Nero expanded the area (adding a nice statue of himself, of course), and in 80 AD, Titus (famous for his sacking of Jerusalem) celebrated the completion of the top floor by killing 9,000 animals (and Gabriella said 3,000 people as well) to the delight of the crowds in some inaugural games. I know it's a different mind set, but I can't imagine crowding in through the gates (labeled with Roman numerals so you could find your seat) to see a bunch of people being forced to murder each other, or to be eaten by animals, or to see animals getting killed.

You had to climb this killer set of super steep death-stairs to get to the top, from where I took the picture on the bottom, which, LOOKS LIKE A VAGINA! WOOT! This area was originally underneath a wooden floor which was covered in sand (arena being the Latin word for sand). These corridors or rooms would've held the gladiators or animals waiting to compete. They've found no evidence of latrines in the Colosseum (they think they were outside of it somewhere) but that's okay, because if I were a Gladiator, I just would've peed my skirt in fear. I would've been the saddest Gladiator ever, not brave, like the Gladiators of today.

When in Rome...Spout Stupid Cliches About Rome!

Lizzie and I have been keeping track of the cliches. Thus far we have heard

All Roads Lead to Rome

When In Rome...

Rome Wasn't Built in a Day

We will add to this as we go along, should any others be introduced...

(These are some temple ruins outside the Colosseum...looking good, Venus!)

Because you Vatican can can!

Went to the Vatican this morning! Above is a cupola designed by Michelangelo, an also a marble crocodile, because it is awesome. We met with a new guide Gabriella, who was a super adorable lady of a certain age who told us excellent jokes, my favorite being:

Q. How does the Pope fly to his summer residence?

A. In a holy-copter.

Mua ha ha! Excellent.

We got to the Vactican around 8:20, and took a tour of the museum which has a huge collection of marble statues and tapestries. Rome, as we all know, was a very stabby place, and there is a super creepy series of tapestries showing Herod killing the boy babies back in the day. Fun! Past there some of us took a bathroom break (or, as Gabriella would say, the Holy Pee) and the rest of us filed in for an early look at the Sistene chapel. One is not allowed to take photos in the Chapel, which is gorgeous, obviously, but people are dumb, and do it anyway, so I counted the number of times the guards had to yell "NO PHOTOS" in a 25 minute span, and it topped 29 by the time I left. When they weren't yelling NO PHOTOS, they were yelling "SSSSSSHHHH," which, ironically, was louder than the talking. After the Sistene Chapel, we went to St. Peter's Basilica (Gabriella: "Where is Saint Peter? You are standing on him! Ha ha!") and saw the Pieta, which is a gorgeous sculpture of Mary holding Jesus's body post crucifixion, by Michelangelo, of course. It's such a beautiful piece, but because of the crowds I couldn't get a decent picture. Here, check it out!

The Basilica is massive, and has tons of gorgeous art, and (guess who was raised in a Protestant religion?) all I could imagine was Jesus coming down to visit and being like "dude, seriously?" Jesus, being perfect and all, probably would've been more eloquent, but as Lizzie and I discussed, though we can totally understand the desire to praise your God with ostentatious buildings, Jesus was a humble guy, an probably would've been squicked out by the excess (and have given it all to the poor). Anyway, you all know how I like to write songs, so I sang this one to Lizzie the whole time we were walking around, which I'm sure she enjoyed: "Jesus Jesus, Jesus Jesus! Jesus Jesus, Jesus Jesus! Jesus!" It's pretty catchy, and I'll be sure to make a recording for you all when I get back.

Okay, time for a pause. Our hotel room is really pretty, but it smells like sewer gas. I was typing this entry and I was like "Damn it smells like shit again" and I thought I'd let you know. Our bathroom, for all its sewer gas smell, has a bidet. FANCY.

After the Basilica, we had lunch, and then headed out to the Colosseum. Rarr!

Rome If You Want to...

Sooo...tired...

Hello friends! It's been one heckuva long day. We flew out of Boston at 10:55 pm, and our hosts on Air France were clearly into torture via sleep deprivation, because they kept waking us up every 15 minutes:

*poke* Please put down your window shade
*poke* Did you put down your window shade?
*poke* Do you want this creepy plastic cup full of airplane risotto?
*poke* Please put up your window shade
*poke* Do you want this blueberry muffin? It has exactly one blueberry in it, etc.

This torture by sleep deprivation was paired with an even more insidious torture, so horrifying it grieves me to share it with you, but it's a burden Lizzie and I just cannot bear alone. Those of you who are squeamish may wish to look away. While our eyeballs, dry from dehydration, were forced to remain open by the aforementioned prodding, the Air France flight crew cruelly put on the worst possible movie, a movie so terrible it has been added to the Geneva Convention as an inhumane treatment of prisoners of war, that movie being "Never Say Never," starring Justin Bieber.

What the fuck? Who thought that would be the best movie to show on a crowded airplane which had very few tweens on it? Had I the strength, I would've thrown myself out a window, but I was too tired to crack the glass. The plane itself was a double decker, a la the plane in "Snakes on a Plane," which is clearly a far superior movie to "Never Say Never." Yes, middle class Canadian boy, your life has surely been plauged with challenges. You're so brave. Ugh.

We got to Paris around 11:30am (5:30am Boston time) and ran through Charles De Gaulle Airport, making it to our gate for our 2:05pm flight to Rome. We finally landed here about 5:10pm (in a hay field, oddly) and sat in traffic, finally making it to our hotel by 6:10. There we met Gary, our tour guide, who hails from Providence. He told us that we'd have to get back down for dinner by 6:30 (my kingdom for a shower) and then handed us our key. Turns out they gave us the wrong room number, and we tried to break into someone else's room. When the occupant opened, we awkwardly had to explain that we had to kill her because we'd been programmed by Justin Bieber to do so. That being settled, Lizzie went back downstairs, got our real room number, and we quickly changed and ran downstairs to meet our group.

We've made friends already with a family from Providence (WTF Rhode Island?) and a lady who's on her own from Mississippi. We were talking to our Mississippi friend about our rush to get here, and this other crabby woman was like "OH YOU WERE THE ONES WHO WERE LATE? GLAD I STOOD MY GROUND." Foolishly, we thought that meant she had insisted that our tour group remain until we had landed and joined them before taking off for dinner, but she went on to say that she had bullied Gary into promising to leave by 6:30 whether Lizzie and I had made it in or not. Consider yourself our Italy trip Nemesis, Evil!Anne. Before we made it to the restaurnt, we saw the Spainsh Square and the Spanish Steps. At the restaurant we ate a huge meal of food, me having a pile of meat wrapped in more meat, with bread and pasta to boot. The best part about our table was that we were with two teenagers who couldn't drink, so I had to have their share of wine. Lizzie was difficult, and wanted VEGETABLES, and was led away by this delightful octogenrian to the veggie buffet, which I thought was Italian slang for "I'm going to murder you." Luckily she came through the eperience unharmed, and avec vegetables. Tomorrow is the Vatican, et al. I will try to be more coherent then. Buona Serra!

(And I was like baby baby baby OHHH, like baby baby baby Nooooo!)