tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34023119468173070632024-03-14T04:48:13.669-07:00Norwoods A NapoliUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-21884175989649262902012-09-29T18:21:00.000-07:002012-09-30T07:04:22.125-07:00Grape Harvesting at La Vigna Agriturismo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Agriturismos are one of our favorite Italian experiences. They are working farms with bed and breakfast lodging on-site and they often have restaurants that serve dinner as well. They are subsidized by the Italian government to promote tourism in more rural areas. We love experiencing Italy's beautiful rural areas and we love local food, so we jumped at the chance to go to La Vigna, an agriturismo about 30 minutes from our home, to spend the day harvesting grapes and enjoying a traditional Italian meal. </div>
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These are the grapes we harvested. I wondered what kind they were, but forgot to ask. So, I'd guess maybe falanghina, which is a local white wine.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sydney cutting the grapes off the vine</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miranda cutting grapes off the vine (yes, we let her use a knife!)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Sophia enjoyed getting a closer look. Although this was not my brightest parenting moment, since look=touch=in the mouth, which means I was fishing a grape out of her mouth within seconds!</span><span style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></div>
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Sydney was being silly, but in between bouts of whining and being silly, went right back to work with Dad.</div>
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Miranda was being silly while whining, but she gave up picking grapes early on. In her defense, it was in the 90's so pretty hot and uncomfortable, especially with rubber gloves on.</div>
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More silliness!</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Sydney thought this bunch looked like an L--for Aunt Laura!</span></td></tr>
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Here's Brian in his pack mule role yet again!</div>
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After picking grapes, we went around back to let the kids play on the huge playground. We learned the grapes are put into this machine to separate the stems. </div>
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(By the way, the man behind the machine is 82; must be the Mediterranean diet!)</div>
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Then it was time to stomp on the grapes, I-Love-Lucy style, although on a little smaller scale. Stay tuned for these photos at Christmas...</div>
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Finally, it was time to enjoy the fruits of our labor! Or last year's laborers, I should say. I have really come to love authentic Italian al fresco dining. We ate under these vines and it was magical. Or maybe what I was feeling was the wine. In any case, it was a lovely experience and we can check it off our bucket list! Not that I wouldn't jump at another chance next year.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-3843384043826373232012-09-28T19:07:00.000-07:002012-09-30T07:43:06.896-07:00Aunt Mickey and Uncle Billy Cruise to NaplesEarly Thursday morning, Brian and I set out to find Aunt Mickey and Uncle Billy in downtown Naples. Armed only with our GPS, the name of their cruise ship (the Celebrity Silouette), and a meeting time of 9am, we were a little skeptical that we would be able to find them! This is Italy, after all. But we followed signs to the port along the highway and found the ship, despite needing to ask Port Authorities which way we should go near the very end. And after a few minutes of roaming around on foot, I snagged them and Brian whisked us away toward Sorrento. <div>
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Everything was going pretty smoothly for the first 30 minutes, until suddenly we were forced to take a detour from the main road to Sorrento. We followed the stop and go traffic for an hour and a half, only to reach a road completely blocked due to an Italian strike, or so the polizia told us. </div>
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So, we diverted and headed to Ravello instead. We love Ravello, and it has impressed other visitors we've had, so away we went...up the windy road with views of steep plunges over the mountainside. We made sure no one had a tendency for car sickness...but as we're making our ascent, what's that, Aunt Mickey? You're very afraid of heights? Ooops, sorry! But we're halfway there now!</div>
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We all appreciated how fortuitous it was to have encountered the strike, because we wouldn't have had the opportunity to see this AUTHENTIC herd of goats in transit to Ravello as well. </div>
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And then there was the AUTHENTIC horses carrying wood that we would've missed along the TERRORIZING road, as Aunt Mickey liked to call it.<br />
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But we finally made it to Ravello and enjoyed exploring the quaint town before lunch.<br />
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We ate lunch with the most surreal backdrop--the Amalfi coast with its crystal blue water.<br />
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Then we returned home to spend time with the girls after school. We went out for pizza and Aunt Mickey proclaimed it the best pizza she'd ever eaten! Not bad, considering she's from New York, where there's some fabulous pizza!<br />
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After spending a night with us, we enjoyed a leisurely morning sipping homemade cappuccinos and then we set out to Capua amphitheater in the nearby town of Caserta. This amphitheater is only slightly smaller than Rome's colosseum and is said to be where Sparticus led slaves in an uprising against the Roman Empire. </div>
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Aunt Mickey poses near the M Miranda discovered on our last visit there. M is for Aunt Mickey and for Miranda.<br />
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Then it was time to head back to the ship. Despite a wrong turn I made near the port, we made it with plenty of time to spare. We had a lovely, albeit quick, visit!</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-73147611283043264582012-07-26T05:08:00.000-07:002012-09-30T05:09:38.289-07:00Paris, France: Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: center;">We took the subway and were pleasantly surprised with this accordion music on our way to the d'Orsay museum, where we visited an impressive collection of impressionist pieces. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophia (and the princess crown rattle that has its final resting place in Paris.)</td></tr>
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We enjoyed a quick but beautiful walk to Les Invalides, which houses Napoleon's tomb.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">La Sainte Chapelle was one of my favorite places, although on the outside it doesn't look like much! It <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">was commissioned by King </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louis_IX_of_France" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Louis IX of France">Louis IX of France</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> to house his collection of </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Passion_(Christianity)" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Passion (Christianity)">Passion</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Relics" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Relics">Relics</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, including the </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crown_of_Thorns" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Crown of Thorns">Crown of Thorns</a>.<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> It was begun some time after 1239. It was</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> damaged during the French revolution, but then heavily restored in the 19th century. It is one of the most extensive in-situ collections of 13th century </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stained_glass" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Stained glass">stained glass</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> anywhere in the world.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brian and the girls have a rest.</td></tr>
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A beautiful view of Notre Dame, which we walked by each day on the way back to our apartment.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-15359167566385601622012-07-25T06:39:00.000-07:002012-09-30T05:07:01.481-07:00Paris, France: Part 1Our first full day in Paris, we set out on foot to the Ile-de la cite (an island in the Seine river) from our apartment near the Latin Quarter on the left bank. We were en route to catch a Batobus water taxi to the Louvre, but first we fueled up with a nutella and banana crepe from a restaurant vendor. Yum!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eating a crepe for breakfast</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Descending down to the Louvre Museum</td></tr>
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After a brief set back when we had to take Sophia out of her frame backpack and put her in a borrowed Louvre stroller, we made a bee-line to the Mona Lisa. You can't tell from this picture, but there were at least 100 people swarmed in front of the painting at any given time. So, we had to wait very patiently as we were jostled to the front of the line. The girls were so excited to see the Mona Lisa, having read about her in a couple of books they have. Their favorite is a children's story book (one in a series of art-related books) called <u>Katie and the Mona Lisa</u>.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls loved visiting the Mona Lisa!</td></tr>
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After seeing the Mona Lisa, we followed the crowds to a few other key pieces of artwork, including this statue, the Venus de Milo.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Venus de Milo</td></tr>
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After the Louvre, we set out to walk through the Tuileries Garden and then along the Champs Elysees to reach the Arc de Triomphe, which was a lot further than it looks! But we made it...here are a few things we saw along the way.<br />
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Oh, and my friend Kathleen was kind enough to inform us that the Tour de France would be culminating on the Champs Elysees on Sunday during our trip! That might explain why we couldn't find accommodations easily. And so we avoided the Champs Elysees on Sunday, until late in the day we doubled back to make it to the l'Orangerie Museum...only to wonder why one of the metro exits had security and was blocked. Duh. We emerged to a sea of people and saw the last of the support cars with bikes on top drive by. But we did make it to the museum the next day.<br />
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And we did make it to the Arc de Triomphe, despite the 3 mile walk uphill.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the Champs Elysees from the Arc de Triumphe</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're taking the Batobus to the Eiffel Tower to get in line.</td></tr>
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We waited for 2 and half long hours to go up into the Eiffel Tower. It was touch and go there for the last 30 minutes, as Sydney and Brian both had to use the bathroom (which had closed). But they were able to hold out and make it to the top. Sydney and Miranda were rewarded promptly with Ben and Jerry's ice cream AND souvenir Eiffel Towers. They don't get too many souvenirs because Brian is a minimalist who doesn't want crap piling up. But especially after perseverance to transcend this world in the most visited paid monument in the world, Brian felt they were deserving. But isn't it also appropriate to get a souvenir (a French word that means "to remember") in France?<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;">Brian "accidentally" ordered us two LARGE beers at a Paris cafe at dinner that night. We considered it our crash course in the metric volume system! Oui, oui, it was a good way to end our first day in Paris!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-61865475989077407752012-07-20T15:52:00.000-07:002012-09-25T06:46:39.939-07:00Normandy, France: Saint Mere Eglise, Utah Beach, and Arromanches-les-bains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Paratroopers stormed France by air as part of the Normandy invasion as well. Saint Mere Eglise is home to the Airborne Museum, as it was one of the main towns where paratroopers landed to secure the higher grounds above the beaches.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DOUGLAS C47 plane</td></tr>
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Gliders were used to deliver paratroopers as quietly as possible in the middle of the night, although they were dangerous and many people perished in the crash landings.<br />
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There is a statue of the paratrooper John Steele, whose parachute got caught on the side of this church. He could not free himself and pretended to be dead for two hours before the Germans took him prisoner. He later escaped from the Germans to rejoin his division and helped attack the village to capture 30 Germans and kill another 11 This incident was portrayed in the movie <i>The Longest Day</i>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We visited Utah Beach on a beautiful crisp afternoon. We learned the troops landed here off course by about a mile, but Brigadier General Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. quickly investigated his surroundings to adapt the plan of attack, which was successful. He is known for famously exclaiming, <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">"We’ll start the war from here!"</span></span></div>
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On our last morning in Normandy, we visited Arromanche to view the remnants of one of the two amazing temporary harbors that were built by the Allied forces. Pieces of the harbor were created in the UK and, as part of the invasion, were brought by ship across the English Channel and quickly assembled together to form a break wall and a working harbor that was used to unload tons and tons of military equipment fairly quickly and efficiently. The technology and speed with which they pieced together this harbor amazes me, as does the ability of the forces to keep this all covert. That would never happen in today's world with satellites and communication technology, but thank God they pulled it off then!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-63522982178353447862012-07-20T14:49:00.000-07:002012-08-07T23:04:43.216-07:00Normandy, France: Omaha Beach and the American Cemetary<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Omaha Beach</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Omaha Beach was the second stop we made on our tour of Normandy. As most people know, it was part of a larger operation to move in and secure several geographical areas (among them Utah, Omaha, Gold, Juno, Sword beaches) to connect Allied forces, uniting efforts to combat German military.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coast Guard Memorial at Omaha Beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View looking east from west side of Omaha Beach</td></tr>
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Even after visiting Normandy, I can't begin to describe all the events that happened that day and subsequently. But to summarize, it was a very daunting task with geographical and meteorological challenges, gruesome bloodshed, and what seems to me to be a miraculous victory in the long run. The movie <i>Saving Private Ryan</i>, although a fictitious story, depicts some very lifelike scenes of the D-Day landings.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Omaha Beach was the site of the first American Cemetery in France, but it was later moved to another location nearby. We drove a short distance to also visit the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in France, which now <span style="background-color: white;">contains the graves of 9,387 military, most of whom lost their lives during the D-Day invasions.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Time Capsule to be opened 100 years after D Day (2044)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning our walk through the cemetery</td></tr>
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We explained to the kids that each cross represented an American person who died fighting to help other people. It is a hard concept for young kids, but when faced with a visual of so many crosses representing so many people, I thought it was worth a try. It is a beautiful, peaceful tribute to so many courageous soldiers.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1,557 names are inscribed on the Walls of the Missing, which is a semicircular garden. The names of those since recovered and identified are marked with rosettes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">It struck me that it was nothing short of amazing--standing in these spots and hearing the obstacles that were overcome by some very brave fellow Americans. You can be sure my very next thought was a prayer of immeasurable thanks. The world would be a very different place if not for this turning point in history. Here's hoping future generations will look back knowing we did what was needed for this this day and age...I'm not so sure, but that's another whole blog.</span></div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-40234403813342751152012-07-20T13:25:00.000-07:002012-07-28T14:08:14.050-07:00Normandy, France: Point Du HocPoint Du Hoc was an amazing first historical site to see during our Normandy visit. It was where, on D Day June 6, 1944, U.S. Army Rangers scaled a steep 100-foot cliff with ropes and ladders to surprise and attack German bunkers, which held six canons. Point du Hoc is situated between Omaha beach and Utah beach, so the mission to disarm the Germans here was integral to the success of the Omaha and Utah beach invasions.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Replica of a German canon</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the English Channel over Point du Hoc cliffs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bunker fragments blasted from D Day bombing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Site of former canon location (without bunker built around it)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miranda, after she'd just fallen in a grassy hole made by a bomb</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An example of a German bunker built to protect each of their six canons</td></tr>
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Of the 225 brave Rangers who landed at Point du Hoc, only 90 survived the challenging two-day feat of securing and holding this vital ground to protect fellow American soldiers during the overall mission to free France from German occupation.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The peaceful memorial</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gorgeous view (the direction of Utah beach)</td></tr>
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Watching our precious, playful girls, it's hard to believe this beautiful place was once an intense battlefield. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heading down into a bunker to explore</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-12910489409542747762012-07-07T21:46:00.000-07:002012-07-27T00:53:47.076-07:00Our "Three Hour Tour" off the Cilento CoastThe Pediatric department decided to take a day trip cruise of the Cilento Coast, organized through the QOL committee at the hopsital. As always, the corpsmen were a wealth of information since they had been on a similar cruise. So, we rallied rather early for a Saturday and boarded a bus at 6am to drive nonstop for two and a half hours (despite no bathrooms) to get to the boat. Once there, we boarded the "fishing-boat-meets-booze-cruise" boat, took our seats on the sun deck, and set off!<br />
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The kids enjoyed themselves, entertained by applying sunblock for a good part of the time.<br />
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The views were amazing!<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">And a new Pediatric tradition was established (a.k.a. "Gibson's legacy"): kids sippy cups filled with adult beverages in USA koozies! (The kids were eyeing them.)</span><br />
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In the late morning, we arrived at a beautiful private beach to enjoy some swimming for a couple of hours.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Sophia enjoyed some shade-bathing on shore.</span></div>
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Miranda set about to find some seashells, but was not disappointed to find mostly rocks--big ones at that. All the kids (Sydney, Miranda, Avery and Connor) played in the pebbles (no sand in their suits at least) at the water's edge the whole time.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Sophia cools off with Daddy (and Gibson and Mr. Marty) in the refreshing water.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Here's the view of the beach and the grotto Brian swam to explore with Gibson. I chickened out once we reached the open sea and the wind and waves were knocking into my face and it felt like I wasn't moving despite much effort. I figured one of our girls' parents should live to tell, so I headed back!</span></div>
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Then the boat returned to pick us up for our return trip, which included lunch. We squished into the lower deck, passed around water as we sampled a couple different types of bruschetta. Then we moved onto the main course of pasta with fresh tuna, as we kept an eye out for the vino being passed around. We were especially glad Gibson had taken care of us, since each person in our group received only about 1 to 2 ounces of vino! This is when we realized it was more like a fishing boat than a booze cruise, which was just as well with the kids along.<br />
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After lunch, we all got comfy for the boat ride back to our starting point.</div>
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Then the boat started to rock and roll...Miranda can sleep through anything sometimes! Many people were seasick and spent their time at the bow of the boat...only Gibson took photos of that!<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Sophia snacking on her fingers...until they passed around the watermelon.</span><br />
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Then the wind and waves really started to kick up and the boat started to lean to the right. Sydney didn't seem to mind and fell asleep, which tells you how tired she was...or maybe how much the boat was rocking her to sleep.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Several times the crew would ask us to all sit on the left to balance the boat out. The last time the woman asked us, people were slow to move, so she added, "Quickly!" I sat right next to her holding Sophia on my lap and was honestly afraid we were going to capsize and couldn't help but exclaim/pray, "Oh God!" She tried to reassure me, but the damage was done! I was on alert the remainder of the trip...which was a lot longer than planned. We half-joked about this being like Gilligan's Island's "three-hour tour" but were lucky it was only three hours longer than planned!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-67258216487461377542012-04-15T10:12:00.000-07:002012-07-28T12:08:24.313-07:00Matera, Italy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0khy9EsJfLf-LOtPLhQEhp7QSQRzrvh2nO5UDaehyphenhyphenRFseL_D4JtQk7HZxzKQ2KP9NAjDUDz4I4q-jiJzzbTJUFzyveRFvLC9OnMznmo4yhPg1kgh4vLcYAhYDdrEP-vg4__fjTWdPs2Qv/s1600/IMG_4027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0khy9EsJfLf-LOtPLhQEhp7QSQRzrvh2nO5UDaehyphenhyphenRFseL_D4JtQk7HZxzKQ2KP9NAjDUDz4I4q-jiJzzbTJUFzyveRFvLC9OnMznmo4yhPg1kgh4vLcYAhYDdrEP-vg4__fjTWdPs2Qv/s320/IMG_4027.JPG" width="320" /></a>Matera is one of our favorite cities of Italy yet. It is an amazing city unlike anywhere else in the world. This beautiful city of stone dates back to the Paleolithic era approximately 25,000 years ago. It is thought to be one of the first settlements of Europe.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">The hilly natural terrain and stone caves lent themselves to shelter. Over time, many houses were expanded around caves and even churches were built out of the caves. Today, many restaurants and hotels are built out of the original caves. We enjoyed the one we stayed at,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"> <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.booking.com/hotel/it/basiliani.en.html?aid=318615;label=English_Whole_Site_Reset_High__inurl:en.html%23inurl:booking.com/hotel/it">Hotel Basiliana</a> in San Pietro. It was quite a cobblestone walk from the parking area in the square to the hotel, but worth it for the amazing location (yet all the amenities you'd need) within the caves. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A church built out of the caves</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXhfAztnQBnL5v_KtjbKZq3YvHJMNFzxTyup_i8T0_2XkfC8xM3X1KwgUh2cdOVBB2SrDOTfEysqOPax77A5V7cuf_eqkmoIzxNSD0GMiKLjqHY3Z0Nk_vZ9ZUmmJE338ueZvOf_yPOVR/s1600/IMG_5834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXhfAztnQBnL5v_KtjbKZq3YvHJMNFzxTyup_i8T0_2XkfC8xM3X1KwgUh2cdOVBB2SrDOTfEysqOPax77A5V7cuf_eqkmoIzxNSD0GMiKLjqHY3Z0Nk_vZ9ZUmmJE338ueZvOf_yPOVR/s320/IMG_5834.JPG" width="320" /></a>There are two Sassi (stone) districts, Sasso Caveoso and Sasso Barisano, separated by a ravine called the Gravina of Matera. It is possible to explore them all on foot, although there are many steps.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our hotel is just below, overlooking the ravine</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">The city became a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1993, which revitalized the area with tourism. Before then, the area was largely abandoned after the government forcefully relocated the inhabitants because of extreme poverty and unsanitary living conditions during the 1950's. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCDnGyHsk0ymLXabb1RsEUynFaGJI3RNmqekZsI1T7hJRuoBvr2qFmgZ3ywhl7S_rmwrEsbKcmmk13e8nbUBGASxtyCgKYGbl2SJgNBwke8uSlShQ1-oEILrXrknCg8Bj-LfUQXsIiN8J/s1600/IMG_3922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCDnGyHsk0ymLXabb1RsEUynFaGJI3RNmqekZsI1T7hJRuoBvr2qFmgZ3ywhl7S_rmwrEsbKcmmk13e8nbUBGASxtyCgKYGbl2SJgNBwke8uSlShQ1-oEILrXrknCg8Bj-LfUQXsIiN8J/s320/IMG_3922.JPG" width="320" /></a>Usually a large family, sometimes 6 or more people, would live in a small one-room living space. There was no running water, only a cistern that collected rain water. There was no electricity. Usually there was one straw stuffed bed and some of the children would sleep in dresser drawers. There was one small table for the family and a loom.<br />
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Because of its old world look, Mel Gibson's movie The Passion of Christ was filmed in Matera.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-61646458025626555542012-02-01T19:45:00.000-08:002012-07-27T01:24:54.877-07:00Benvenuti Sophia Ann!Sophia Ann arrived on February 1, 2012 at 5:34 p.m! She was two days past her due date, and I like to think I "prayed" her into this world the night before when I realized that a birthday of 2-1-12 would be really cool. But I know better...babies arrive when they're good and ready. I'm just thankful she and I were in agreement...and I hope it's not the last time in our lives.<br />
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I'm also glad that the minute she popped out after only 5 minutes of pushing and I caught sight of her, I was able to declare with certainty, "Yay! She isn't 9+ pounds!" Everyone who knows me (and some people who don't know me) knows I was concerned about having a large baby because Miranda was 9 pounds, 2 ounces...and they usually get bigger each time, right?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the Norwood girls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sydney holds Sophia for the first time. She's so excited!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miranda holds Sophia for the first time. She's coerced into smiling!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole fam</td></tr>
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Sophia says, "Ciao!"</div>
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This traditional Buona Fortuna shirt is said to bring good luck if it's the first thing she wears. It was a thoughtful gift from our Italian neighbor, Roberto, and his wife Lisa.</div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-22367557968141458132012-01-16T02:10:00.000-08:002012-01-16T02:12:20.644-08:00Vietri: No Cure For My Pottery Obsession<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660753878472643858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVGSl31yUqfsUROqOQ-R7n-DQLV1D_kcGr34CqxAyTE08LNUdH6BysMXk99iNkewo1932d4cgF7cK8XQeoSkT9yRWHszXAN8rigEStwNywAX33ei1WonRH1G8hHWaL3Cs-mkEuklILHNf/s200/IMG_4919.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 150px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" /><br />
<div>I didn't realize till living in Japan what an obsession I have with pottery! Partially it's my love of food, eating and sharing meals with friends and family that necessitates the collection of more earthenware. But it's also my way of taking home a useful--and literal--piece of the foreign countries I've visited.<br />
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So, it is only fitting that one of the first places I visited in Italy was the town of Vietri along the famous, breathtaking Amalfi coast. It's an easy highway drive to get there and I've been back 3 times so far.<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660754272745124226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHDQQO2b5f5xrW2QV4AJH041Z3ODNIX7lULj9oK4H3Eict71LKHYpmjKu6IwLdGT1kQvPYQ0lrbziOKWHyK3LtjmX75RavAXnQ3E3HkVKKs_tWusPgTVy4WAgati8-Zr0JZaK1MxAv1tbw/s200/IMG_4725.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 134px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 200px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660754533817116690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuNxdnMQ21-PbseKSNneyfwDfJoCpMGvE4CJrKi9yZEoERRn6A1dct6NDkF8ZjiAbAc_uqGZjIL7EOM0_M5LbudpYYT1AgbvhB0tGFnAXM_mPU0AHZAAMIaoLpymXI20Mb5v0zg7xQ45em/s200/IMG_4727.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 150px;" /><br />
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The quaint walkable streets are lined with pottery shop after pottery shop, which are decorated with bright, bold tiles and samples of the pottery within.<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660754776120608562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBj4kOD531TkTZER-WBA2rxnLvoYnilzclSanDVZLur_4lriCqwKKbRVEKDY-HkRdiY1Nn1hUErxtSCY2LncZguodwR7kftXJroCKhrZFP1SVNc3LV8qxgVTI-gY2W4ZkPDLO6A2xmsDFW/s200/IMG_4739.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 150px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660754991346762290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGeLn2wXPPwple4XglcULMBneB7hL5NpcrVJFemnrhgRtuLvdMMiH6OYhA7HGCxpMM0e0W3gbdQf8z67kSuVl0Pl3vbvXLEoHXPz-M6ecQX3yIS5tlDssAn9h2YQRLZMg4I7bOo7SYtMY/s200/IMG_4736.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 150px;" /><br />
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Stacks of pottery line the shelves, and artists are usually hard at work, hand painting while you browse.</div><div><br />
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This was my first purchase--an egg plate. As Brian noted when I brought it home, I have <i>never once</i> made deviled eggs in the nearly eight years we've been married. But now that I have an egg plate (which I also thought would serve as a beautiful Easter decoration to display our colored eggs), who knows?! I may start.</div><div><br />
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</div><div>These whimsical sea creatures were my second purchase, for the baby's nursery. I saw them on my first visit, but since I am almost never an impulse shopper, I regretted not buying them and returned on a special mission to get them.</div><div><br />
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<div>These beautiful Christmas ornaments were my third purchase. Like my mom did while I was young, I usually buy a couple ornaments each year for my girls, usually from significant places we've been, which I will eventually give to them for their own trees. Pink and purple are their two favorite colors.<br />
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I will definitely be back many more times! In fact, I already have a few more things on my mental list for Vietri, one of which is a bowl for keeping and draining fresh buffalo mozzarella cheese. The things I never knew I <i>needed</i> till I moved to Italy!</div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-57589784892613639232012-01-09T09:09:00.000-08:002012-01-09T11:51:31.500-08:00Homemade SpaghettiI came to Italy expecting to love the food and hoping to learn how to cook it. Of course, I arrived with morning sickness and a temporary aversion to garlic and basil ensued. Not to mention, we also found many restaurants around Naples are not exactly noteworthy. Well, after seven months here, we have managed to seek out our share of delicious authentic Italian dishes. But up until now, the only thing we had attempted to master at home is the cappuccino. And man, have we (I can say that since it was Brian who mastered it)! I would go so far as to say that it has improved our overall quality of life...no kidding. (Keep in mind, there's no Starbucks here.)<br />
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While I haven't tried my hand at many Italian dishes at home, I have been lucky enough to attend a couple cooking classes before the baby arrives. In my first of "Vera's cooking classes," we made homemade pumpkin ravioli's, which were out of this world. I realized how easy it is to make homemade pasta! I brought home some leftovers to Brian and I guess he was sold too, because he agreed we <i>needed</i> a pasta maker.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAFOSzPeE_CSZWZRlzky1s_a8WGioByEyhkN8SaC7xBly6wsK-B0ZH2FiNwO4Medm929J7Jww8pc8SR_-URNIvLMziXTHC0h5eC1XJkiD6H6zZ2rc-4Mx4Uu11oDVy0_MPQqP0XNTRvxu/s1600/pasta1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAFOSzPeE_CSZWZRlzky1s_a8WGioByEyhkN8SaC7xBly6wsK-B0ZH2FiNwO4Medm929J7Jww8pc8SR_-URNIvLMziXTHC0h5eC1XJkiD6H6zZ2rc-4Mx4Uu11oDVy0_MPQqP0XNTRvxu/s320/pasta1.JPG" width="239" /></a><br />
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So the other day, we were tempted to buy an authentic Italian hand-crank pasta maker, but I'm so glad we opted for the Kitchen Aid attachment instead! It's so easy to use, we've had homemade spaghetti twice in the past 10 days! And both times Brian made it with the girls helping, meaning I had some quiet time. Ahhh! <br />
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Now, don't feel too jealous of me, the first time I DID stand over the stove for two hours earlier in the day making the meat sauce. But tonight, while Brian made spaghetti carbonara, I didn't do a thing except get the dishes and silverware ready for Miranda to set the table.<br />
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I think our "taste testers" ate more spaghetti while helping than they did at the dinner table!<br />
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Next, I'm excited to try out the fettuccine and ravioli options on the pasta maker attachment. But first things first. Today I went to another of Vera's classes--mainly to learn how to attempt the Sicilian cannoli from scratch! Ah, la dolce vita!</div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-59288402901720459652011-12-26T07:02:00.000-08:002012-01-03T12:28:09.902-08:00First Christmas in Italy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two of Santa's helpers</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy helps with structural support for our annual Christmas eve Gingerbread house tradition.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Norwood snow women, and the finished gingerbread house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Setting up for Santa: making sure he can find the hot water for his hot chocolate. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inquiring minds (Sydney) wanted to know this year, does Santa put his gifts out first, or eat his cookies first. So she left him a multiple choice question (since he's in a hurry). (Of course, he does the gifts first, in the generous spirit of Christmas.)</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8VGw6eG6xv8/TwNcI3VMBSI/AAAAAAAADOg/yAcfMkouIlc/s1600/photo+%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8VGw6eG6xv8/TwNcI3VMBSI/AAAAAAAADOg/yAcfMkouIlc/s320/photo+%25289%2529.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mischievous? </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3sR10dDl7mA/TwNcJ5jvquI/AAAAAAAADOo/ieELs6k1XG4/s1600/photo+%252811%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3sR10dDl7mA/TwNcJ5jvquI/AAAAAAAADOo/ieELs6k1XG4/s320/photo+%252811%2529.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Or angelic? Remains to be seen...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--gjeiWeb7v0/TwNc3NCZdXI/AAAAAAAADO4/ABYT3TFw6AI/s1600/IMG_3297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--gjeiWeb7v0/TwNc3NCZdXI/AAAAAAAADO4/ABYT3TFw6AI/s320/IMG_3297.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Appears they were more angelic than not...despite the fact that Miranda got candy coal in her stocking <br />
(we assume as a warning for touching Elfie and ruining his magic a week before Christmas...)<br />
Here, Sydney's sorting presents and Miranda eats a candy cane...<br />
all before Mom and Dad even get out of bed!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PJY9jsQLBtg/TwNdAsoIzTI/AAAAAAAADPA/HhEgH-gMjxE/s1600/IMG_3298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PJY9jsQLBtg/TwNdAsoIzTI/AAAAAAAADPA/HhEgH-gMjxE/s320/IMG_3298.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sydney's card for Mom and Dad...<br />
she's so excited to give us the gifts she picked out at school this year.<br />
She's such a sweet, generous girl!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LwfXe-pI5pw/TwNdNQdI6oI/AAAAAAAADPI/p-yB3qw0W3w/s1600/IMG_3305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LwfXe-pI5pw/TwNdNQdI6oI/AAAAAAAADPI/p-yB3qw0W3w/s320/IMG_3305.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's Mitch "opening" his present from Sydney.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8s8Ob8fdRw8/TwNdRmpl5HI/AAAAAAAADPQ/pqqA8SAF65A/s1600/IMG_3307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8s8Ob8fdRw8/TwNdRmpl5HI/AAAAAAAADPQ/pqqA8SAF65A/s320/IMG_3307.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Laura sent cool handmade Barbie beds for the girls.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIJT-ihXXGY/TwNdUNS3H8I/AAAAAAAADPY/o-D_MmuWHCI/s1600/IMG_3308.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PIJT-ihXXGY/TwNdUNS3H8I/AAAAAAAADPY/o-D_MmuWHCI/s320/IMG_3308.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa brought pillow pets, as requested!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aEFuoP3i4mY/TwNdiwPinFI/AAAAAAAADPg/6mpG4sui6ec/s1600/IMG_3312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aEFuoP3i4mY/TwNdiwPinFI/AAAAAAAADPg/6mpG4sui6ec/s320/IMG_3312.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa also brought Moxy Girls, as requested!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TEqnlIdfOJ4/TwNdnX9kbYI/AAAAAAAADPo/FmQHKxg7BM0/s1600/IMG_3314.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TEqnlIdfOJ4/TwNdnX9kbYI/AAAAAAAADPo/FmQHKxg7BM0/s320/IMG_3314.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Doctor Barbie for Sydney (cuz Daddy's a doctor!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MVHN5fZLgP8/TwNdtq7SsdI/AAAAAAAADPw/BcLUPwI_Rdw/s1600/IMG_3315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MVHN5fZLgP8/TwNdtq7SsdI/AAAAAAAADPw/BcLUPwI_Rdw/s320/IMG_3315.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pizza-making Barbie for Miranda (cuz we are in Italy!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cz4NvCGUDJY/TwNd9ZS2LBI/AAAAAAAADP4/KtK4cWENL6g/s1600/IMG_3321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cz4NvCGUDJY/TwNd9ZS2LBI/AAAAAAAADP4/KtK4cWENL6g/s320/IMG_3321.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for church</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVVO7tUG6s/TwNeRjRU_0I/AAAAAAAADQI/AWf3sHW4aWk/s1600/IMG_3326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BqVVO7tUG6s/TwNeRjRU_0I/AAAAAAAADQI/AWf3sHW4aWk/s320/IMG_3326.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A big dollhouse from Santa, because Sydney told Santa she also likes surprises!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-czct2stujso/TwNeEYYas2I/AAAAAAAADQA/IFBhbdBKYkU/s1600/IMG_3324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-czct2stujso/TwNeEYYas2I/AAAAAAAADQA/IFBhbdBKYkU/s320/IMG_3324.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best gifts of all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DmAPL6nM5vo/TwNeS7dxwJI/AAAAAAAADQM/Z-PgV8_Zopk/s1600/photo+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DmAPL6nM5vo/TwNeS7dxwJI/AAAAAAAADQM/Z-PgV8_Zopk/s320/photo+%25284%2529.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Christmas feast: the best prime rib roast we've ever tasted, thanks to Brian!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-40490469717862482562011-12-23T07:01:00.000-08:002012-01-16T01:45:12.791-08:00Mitch's Encounter at the Amphitheater of Spartacus in Capua<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h8XwomKie4g/TwNmGLVDOmI/AAAAAAAADQc/PwjJYaEh4m4/s1600/IMG_3226.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h8XwomKie4g/TwNmGLVDOmI/AAAAAAAADQc/PwjJYaEh4m4/s320/IMG_3226.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It never ceases to amaze us how much history surrounds us in Italy. Capua is about 30 minutes from our home and it is the site of the amphitheater where Spartacus the gladiator trained. He was a</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19px;"> famous leader of the slaves</span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"> in the Third Servile War</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;">, a major slave uprising</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"> against the Roman Republic</span>.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yyb8jAM_X5o/TwNmRSKsb4I/AAAAAAAADQk/uqwLzXt8SHM/s1600/IMG_3227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yyb8jAM_X5o/TwNmRSKsb4I/AAAAAAAADQk/uqwLzXt8SHM/s320/IMG_3227.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hp5ncnfnCIY/TwNmdEjU95I/AAAAAAAADQs/UPjV0D_dgpM/s1600/IMG_3230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hp5ncnfnCIY/TwNmdEjU95I/AAAAAAAADQs/UPjV0D_dgpM/s320/IMG_3230.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YzwTRSEqhRY/TwNmlh5CzXI/AAAAAAAADQ0/LqUzszsXDXI/s1600/IMG_3231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YzwTRSEqhRY/TwNmlh5CzXI/AAAAAAAADQ0/LqUzszsXDXI/s320/IMG_3231.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ciZLJFnof4/TwNmvLA4sHI/AAAAAAAADQ8/KKPFkWEOyLc/s1600/IMG_3235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ciZLJFnof4/TwNmvLA4sHI/AAAAAAAADQ8/KKPFkWEOyLc/s320/IMG_3235.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gLiTLcrgZdU/TwNm7udleII/AAAAAAAADRE/hojoXKMe3iA/s1600/IMG_3238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gLiTLcrgZdU/TwNm7udleII/AAAAAAAADRE/hojoXKMe3iA/s320/IMG_3238.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M-LGpfpDmBo/TwNnFImAy_I/AAAAAAAADRM/zHfdOXi7u18/s1600/IMG_3240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M-LGpfpDmBo/TwNnFImAy_I/AAAAAAAADRM/zHfdOXi7u18/s320/IMG_3240.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jnFQHomPy8I/TwNnS8Z2hCI/AAAAAAAADRU/u_3qN9rlNDc/s1600/IMG_3243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jnFQHomPy8I/TwNnS8Z2hCI/AAAAAAAADRU/u_3qN9rlNDc/s320/IMG_3243.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miranda happily posing with her "M" of ruins.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QTKkJESlasA/TwNnaDgaRxI/AAAAAAAADRc/I4AVyHPtLPc/s1600/IMG_3246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QTKkJESlasA/TwNnaDgaRxI/AAAAAAAADRc/I4AVyHPtLPc/s320/IMG_3246.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZ5e4naknCuR6-LnzYjUbHW_TIRN85MP-96rXw_EPiio4_Ighyphenhyphen9iUYzNWhdVewV6S2J8SBzG2yMRiKHgKvhQ6god83ACeVARHeErUZGE7Si2Dc_Mj9T4Zc1mfCErlPH2SNyDiTqWmyjgM/s1600/IMG_3247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZ5e4naknCuR6-LnzYjUbHW_TIRN85MP-96rXw_EPiio4_Ighyphenhyphen9iUYzNWhdVewV6S2J8SBzG2yMRiKHgKvhQ6god83ACeVARHeErUZGE7Si2Dc_Mj9T4Zc1mfCErlPH2SNyDiTqWmyjgM/s320/IMG_3247.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going down below the amphitheater, where the animals were kept.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d4OUkFO5ct8/TwNnxS5KWxI/AAAAAAAADRs/vUTutYV8HFo/s1600/IMG_3252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-d4OUkFO5ct8/TwNnxS5KWxI/AAAAAAAADRs/vUTutYV8HFo/s320/IMG_3252.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-deVQP3EGU24/TwNoAdbkuwI/AAAAAAAADR0/PKSuVvPpmb0/s1600/IMG_3255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-deVQP3EGU24/TwNoAdbkuwI/AAAAAAAADR0/PKSuVvPpmb0/s320/IMG_3255.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out these ferocious animals!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UfEeVvFWhCs/TwNoPHq78jI/AAAAAAAADR8/ToTMSJzuO9c/s1600/IMG_3266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-UfEeVvFWhCs/TwNoPHq78jI/AAAAAAAADR8/ToTMSJzuO9c/s320/IMG_3266.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ggj0LXJBS40/TwNoZmM7ZzI/AAAAAAAADSE/ZqnqRAs-lK8/s1600/IMG_3269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ggj0LXJBS40/TwNoZmM7ZzI/AAAAAAAADSE/ZqnqRAs-lK8/s320/IMG_3269.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jilvBR1mlls/TwNod9OzVNI/AAAAAAAADSM/W1urQ8Veujg/s1600/IMG_3273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jilvBR1mlls/TwNod9OzVNI/AAAAAAAADSM/W1urQ8Veujg/s320/IMG_3273.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: center;">Apparently, Mitch is not as ferocious as the two, well-fed, "stray" dogs we encountered on the way out of the amphitheater! They approached us quickly while barking, sniffed around Mitch (who was on a leash) for a few seconds, and then one started to attack our poor baby, taking a bite out of his side and his tail. Luckily it was only a matter of a few minutes, but it was scary! After an emergency visit to an Italian vet in Pozzuoli for some morphine, stitches, and antibiotics, he's recuperating. Although I'd say with this look, he's milking it for what it's worth. Sydney's already written a letter to Santa on his behalf:</span></span><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwG4iQouCH1G7X1zVuWKVHQcTGL_8YayBIV0_qp0yU1oSRpejT1xdbZWVk7FL8AliQqXIPKxd64JeXjsoTTJZ9rInZk_Jj4AfPdokIX5gcq2tCGcQnUPm_SpnFz-hJPfYGOno8jk77dRnf/s1600/photo+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwG4iQouCH1G7X1zVuWKVHQcTGL_8YayBIV0_qp0yU1oSRpejT1xdbZWVk7FL8AliQqXIPKxd64JeXjsoTTJZ9rInZk_Jj4AfPdokIX5gcq2tCGcQnUPm_SpnFz-hJPfYGOno8jk77dRnf/s320/photo+%25283%2529.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Dear Santa, My dog got hurt. He's been good. His stocking is hanging up. From: Sydney. [P.S.] My dog's name is Mitch."</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div>After-Christmas Update: Santa filled a <i>second </i>stocking full of treats for poor Mitch, thanks to Sydney's letter!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-65993254959999476522011-12-20T00:01:00.000-08:002011-12-20T00:01:44.037-08:00Sorrento at Christmastime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kjldqJq2DgHsz4La4Xh8lAGUin6DClECq0drWfISJzXKoxWuOry2uppktaMwC-PC7hlxHdt3OzxbyuNt0xnS4nD_MSKM3nlybz6E3yXnALUaCcu7XrgEE-qRuPy0fdpL3enRBqZRUQXt/s1600/IMG_3201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kjldqJq2DgHsz4La4Xh8lAGUin6DClECq0drWfISJzXKoxWuOry2uppktaMwC-PC7hlxHdt3OzxbyuNt0xnS4nD_MSKM3nlybz6E3yXnALUaCcu7XrgEE-qRuPy0fdpL3enRBqZRUQXt/s320/IMG_3201.JPG" width="187" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The main square</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhPZz4jpFLovxeLLCtKrnss2Iz_dsitQad92I7wAZ79BJhSIzUoeXZ6881QzL0PE5038b2Lxm138PWISWapxTqjaktaxmNPBRYO2Et_jVfFxXMypgEtX3UfhOPhPm3Kr8-Z6GJ_1ucTWU/s1600/IMG_3195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFhPZz4jpFLovxeLLCtKrnss2Iz_dsitQad92I7wAZ79BJhSIzUoeXZ6881QzL0PE5038b2Lxm138PWISWapxTqjaktaxmNPBRYO2Et_jVfFxXMypgEtX3UfhOPhPm3Kr8-Z6GJ_1ucTWU/s320/IMG_3195.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Morks were brave enough to tag along on a Norwood Italian adventure!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijr5IxYb87GfHZi9RK7IqnIxcCtXnkjtMyNl-ifedkGYipWxfgf2aeM0of9MeqlKPADbJfbJnWnqZ92pc4bFjJTu5eAHINFiUFEq6dBjbO8aDh_9ly6RrMVdIoQR2Y3qnysNh8TYcwqjqP/s1600/IMG_3204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijr5IxYb87GfHZi9RK7IqnIxcCtXnkjtMyNl-ifedkGYipWxfgf2aeM0of9MeqlKPADbJfbJnWnqZ92pc4bFjJTu5eAHINFiUFEq6dBjbO8aDh_9ly6RrMVdIoQR2Y3qnysNh8TYcwqjqP/s320/IMG_3204.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> We're off to see some Christmas lights!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3Mjty5uF80WEqMypyzq3xQ6Jucqy9LzITN-hw9ZRMm03yzZgQD5YSm_N9DUQ3MUKNMmxJuxFs8cqwxBo23_sTxzYvqH5Z45Y03q2Fs3oeurt0Ud29lkDlZJBdp4rO2ji_XAnfgBkSdMw/s1600/IMG_3207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3Mjty5uF80WEqMypyzq3xQ6Jucqy9LzITN-hw9ZRMm03yzZgQD5YSm_N9DUQ3MUKNMmxJuxFs8cqwxBo23_sTxzYvqH5Z45Y03q2Fs3oeurt0Ud29lkDlZJBdp4rO2ji_XAnfgBkSdMw/s320/IMG_3207.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWXT4xjR15NfdC75pE8KKZ1rCL5HQUBMRfVmlbGore38IwhmB307gDXmZ4wspP2CqIMT34qFww79aJYAB0uV82Kkj2nLGjeiU70g10M3FgTuee-E54Va7UhNwOPG_n6L7xUW7xIBN07uJ/s1600/IMG_3209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSWXT4xjR15NfdC75pE8KKZ1rCL5HQUBMRfVmlbGore38IwhmB307gDXmZ4wspP2CqIMT34qFww79aJYAB0uV82Kkj2nLGjeiU70g10M3FgTuee-E54Va7UhNwOPG_n6L7xUW7xIBN07uJ/s320/IMG_3209.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Miranda's found her kindred spirit. </div><div style="text-align: center;">"No, I didn't touch Elfie," as her nose grows as long as Pinocchio's!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaU42XNrPRUGFnyg-T6WNUaEjh7v4QxyH6MOW9wdwyTfRktQ-GQHW6pfDlcirA8N7vzylHnBOR-rCuSJJa4B8H86LlFTJ-yRZJ8bRe74HaLwEqsLYmas_x17TrHluUeZ_ZV0gRzZ2kBhD/s1600/IMG_3211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaU42XNrPRUGFnyg-T6WNUaEjh7v4QxyH6MOW9wdwyTfRktQ-GQHW6pfDlcirA8N7vzylHnBOR-rCuSJJa4B8H86LlFTJ-yRZJ8bRe74HaLwEqsLYmas_x17TrHluUeZ_ZV0gRzZ2kBhD/s320/IMG_3211.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Connor, and Avery who's got Pinocchio by the nose!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghG8cvD8ISX8d6P49C-qEkP_-OkvtVDsfuYGCWAr6J45xUdEMA_bi9h8nbOZUo4Q_pv5QLOVlqPTk_R37mKffONYyCkthOfgfD3calDUqGXTfHG5j9LAXLEJqDB5UKHCuiSWoBctGLBwvA/s1600/IMG_3213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghG8cvD8ISX8d6P49C-qEkP_-OkvtVDsfuYGCWAr6J45xUdEMA_bi9h8nbOZUo4Q_pv5QLOVlqPTk_R37mKffONYyCkthOfgfD3calDUqGXTfHG5j9LAXLEJqDB5UKHCuiSWoBctGLBwvA/s320/IMG_3213.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">(This one's for Kathleen, my hot air balloon-driving friend!)</div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">We stumbled on the quaint Sorrento Christmas market.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7w3p1n22sDv0tQj3N5llHyrXItQcGzu8VTSB_sdFpLdZqPALk2Xl5Max-srOoVKGNXabHe_EHDgtLBwUDHJifN37m5aZMHhYl8_Dc5mqtko1vjESJ2SdGVs0zCqOSn3pdBEsOSHLtXE3i/s1600/IMG_3218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7w3p1n22sDv0tQj3N5llHyrXItQcGzu8VTSB_sdFpLdZqPALk2Xl5Max-srOoVKGNXabHe_EHDgtLBwUDHJifN37m5aZMHhYl8_Dc5mqtko1vjESJ2SdGVs0zCqOSn3pdBEsOSHLtXE3i/s320/IMG_3218.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Sydney: "Look at those beautiful globes!"</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kI3vaFfh1R0X7K6RvgNjYWQ7-scp1aT4-PBNihwzcFXZ7y5PuX98lKCRPozAv2UgWr2YFW5Qo7KI1WvE10Gk8TZYrBRqyhdjW6pI0HxOewna12EYnEeT-ZaVyu7jt1zxFBZ9zKJuOG_t/s1600/IMG_3219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kI3vaFfh1R0X7K6RvgNjYWQ7-scp1aT4-PBNihwzcFXZ7y5PuX98lKCRPozAv2UgWr2YFW5Qo7KI1WvE10Gk8TZYrBRqyhdjW6pI0HxOewna12EYnEeT-ZaVyu7jt1zxFBZ9zKJuOG_t/s320/IMG_3219.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_KjabluxfQnWTgzZnB7Ep3XeUjrYCPdS5zw0FhObardbljBqK52y8Lg1tyuByTCjPNf6Pf098vBQT6gYwu9mebwviNhfYe7bOj-VHqsWpz9j3gfmgLnIGNs_xaCj2JFWum6Qxv8lOUXu/s1600/IMG_3220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn_KjabluxfQnWTgzZnB7Ep3XeUjrYCPdS5zw0FhObardbljBqK52y8Lg1tyuByTCjPNf6Pf098vBQT6gYwu9mebwviNhfYe7bOj-VHqsWpz9j3gfmgLnIGNs_xaCj2JFWum6Qxv8lOUXu/s320/IMG_3220.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> No, that's not an Italian hand gesture (Miranda's hat was bothering her neck.) </div><div style="text-align: center;">She's bad lately, but not THAT bad!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwsgpP6ZUXI9GPFgGBl2tIPig-ZLd3iFSvM0MGKiZT4lOF1ZmNnCOLysmhVEicywZOHGgIl3K3ljsgoqufhaOYcEu_UF5RIos3LvCUf3KZRIb3WuoSVJkQzZ8LHTrZc-4y0dYT90BrZ2B/s1600/IMG_3221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqwsgpP6ZUXI9GPFgGBl2tIPig-ZLd3iFSvM0MGKiZT4lOF1ZmNnCOLysmhVEicywZOHGgIl3K3ljsgoqufhaOYcEu_UF5RIos3LvCUf3KZRIb3WuoSVJkQzZ8LHTrZc-4y0dYT90BrZ2B/s320/IMG_3221.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Not too many chimneys in Italy?</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDc_xuiY8DsaSetQlZ274nz4_YOTSW2x5qJ0uIX5eMzbLLlr8QyRQ6A3YTapS81q2lklotnY3RAOlZvqXaiobmRXCjJDjrR_puFJy7ISLiRs8bYiSsonKtCK2dM_Q2A6B-4E8Rf9jyppnF/s1600/IMG_3223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDc_xuiY8DsaSetQlZ274nz4_YOTSW2x5qJ0uIX5eMzbLLlr8QyRQ6A3YTapS81q2lklotnY3RAOlZvqXaiobmRXCjJDjrR_puFJy7ISLiRs8bYiSsonKtCK2dM_Q2A6B-4E8Rf9jyppnF/s320/IMG_3223.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-31807898802078945722011-11-28T22:08:00.000-08:002012-01-01T06:57:45.606-08:00Weekend in Rome<span style="font-family: inherit;">In what has been our most last minute get-away yet, the Saturday after Thanksgiving we headed up to Rome for a one-night stay. We decided at 1pm on Saturday to book a last-minute deal at a <a href="http://www.hotelvictoriaroma.com/">hotel</a> in Rome, hopped in the car and arrived about two hours later! We checked in, valet parked the car for the weekend and were ready to explore the city on foot. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8rwa7-MIPZmusOO1W5MaeIux0lDd5oaKUmr9N_IWoODx0df8IvUXd5pAJpcI9pc_woacE_tnU5k4GrWIpMTpt6LAlXf_C8r94QD8ZHeC_SY2JQB4upYG5svEvkBknKz_NP1QdMdooaNy/s1600/IMG_3088.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688088990971779362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_8rwa7-MIPZmusOO1W5MaeIux0lDd5oaKUmr9N_IWoODx0df8IvUXd5pAJpcI9pc_woacE_tnU5k4GrWIpMTpt6LAlXf_C8r94QD8ZHeC_SY2JQB4upYG5svEvkBknKz_NP1QdMdooaNy/s200/IMG_3088.JPG" style="float: left; height: 134px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; text-align: left;">First we stopped at the Spanish steps, which were crawling with visitors in the late afternoon warmth of the sun.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeLzwJwGts6oEsuniTMFCRHUNsliAKfuKUoniOUsa9FTe9cyvfcHDMaODxm8MiR5-J32hRkub92cSV3-QxDUp1nW0VEydOxL3MasBksbTYbAokFnZe4nmQBUVqbFJ52Alwz5HV208w5mM/s1600/IMG_3106-edit.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="206" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688090778699223618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeLzwJwGts6oEsuniTMFCRHUNsliAKfuKUoniOUsa9FTe9cyvfcHDMaODxm8MiR5-J32hRkub92cSV3-QxDUp1nW0VEydOxL3MasBksbTYbAokFnZe4nmQBUVqbFJ52Alwz5HV208w5mM/s320/IMG_3106-edit.jpg" style="float: left; height: 129px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then we proceeded to Trevi fountain, which was also very crowded, but we managed to push the girls through the crowds to get a photo and let them throw coins in over their shoulders</span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">.</span></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_l1v5cOPJlmYlu2cDJgK0gAs4Y8k-alhZgsdzhk67zFemqUEfqzzrfp5cfub6E9LnnraMfQWj8h-S7EqacykxnD9oNhoDA6Tpx6lKmZtTPKxc4sUnndBDH3cpLxdzi4iJHYwfyqu53y7B/s1600/IMG_3115.JPG" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688091000589312066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_l1v5cOPJlmYlu2cDJgK0gAs4Y8k-alhZgsdzhk67zFemqUEfqzzrfp5cfub6E9LnnraMfQWj8h-S7EqacykxnD9oNhoDA6Tpx6lKmZtTPKxc4sUnndBDH3cpLxdzi4iJHYwfyqu53y7B/s200/IMG_3115.JPG" style="float: left; height: 134px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" /></a></div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">On the way to Piazza Navona, we stopped in the ancient Roman Pantheon, where Brian gave us a quick tour (he had visited Rome when the USS Nassau stopped in Italy in 2010.)</span></span><br />
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</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJJEVnowPCFVhWUt7LFZvHPbJKlHKWx5PTDY7cynsbY_AZK2E2ae12xRV3JZ78Piy1w-nqIxci80gikA-LGBvbrGOClE7lPMkHvNeLhCO-UXYmBmBibjrOoRu2JCXDkuxbXIujzUkiri0/s1600/IMG_3123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJJEVnowPCFVhWUt7LFZvHPbJKlHKWx5PTDY7cynsbY_AZK2E2ae12xRV3JZ78Piy1w-nqIxci80gikA-LGBvbrGOClE7lPMkHvNeLhCO-UXYmBmBibjrOoRu2JCXDkuxbXIujzUkiri0/s200/IMG_3123.JPG" width="133" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhTnTGlCosuhyWR_Ro0qwmsDBMu1fJK4pkvcLLp4QJw5WB0pBRQ_3zU10Lc3IX1wPiCQADyko0N58usPWi3GowWOtMAhn9HcaoSoPKGxq5ffGF_Qk0H9QlDeWTezpTiWYsdrIcDpkW_8I/s1600/IMG_3134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhTnTGlCosuhyWR_Ro0qwmsDBMu1fJK4pkvcLLp4QJw5WB0pBRQ_3zU10Lc3IX1wPiCQADyko0N58usPWi3GowWOtMAhn9HcaoSoPKGxq5ffGF_Qk0H9QlDeWTezpTiWYsdrIcDpkW_8I/s200/IMG_3134.JPG" width="133" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #222222; text-align: left;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: inherit;">Finally at Piazza N</span><span class="il" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: inherit;">avona</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">, the Christmas market had just begun. I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but it was a little cheesier than what I had imagined, what with the fluorescent lighting and carnival type booths. Clearly most things being sold were junk made in China. I guess I was hoping for some Italian-made Christmas ornaments and decorations, etc. But it was fun nonetheless! </span></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; text-align: left;">The girls enjoyed the carousel the best!</span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4ElYmwwU07OXGOVIoscY9cRQnOV5Y4ZIwhVv-DeY_PzRLQ3CVGtFLYsPl6YRIGy21gEqKTu9_t672q4icmfEqjOwMIWE00CxnCjwVfBq177a-AetHaMRjD7EWUOPFTU5cArzYPuDwl7x/s1600/IMG_3131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4ElYmwwU07OXGOVIoscY9cRQnOV5Y4ZIwhVv-DeY_PzRLQ3CVGtFLYsPl6YRIGy21gEqKTu9_t672q4icmfEqjOwMIWE00CxnCjwVfBq177a-AetHaMRjD7EWUOPFTU5cArzYPuDwl7x/s320/IMG_3131.JPG" width="211" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSagOpIr8tN-kJo66s-_X5d4WEwoGx3VXDHHWWetZnQdt4XJC8JjN5vmtTZZUdLGWN7G4oNaSfH7BKrJlsUZkxmZMxS_SQ9Yyea40Z61iCOYYKiH_z877hB-mPgmU8XDvzIZpayA0q1TW/s1600/IMG_3132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWSagOpIr8tN-kJo66s-_X5d4WEwoGx3VXDHHWWetZnQdt4XJC8JjN5vmtTZZUdLGWN7G4oNaSfH7BKrJlsUZkxmZMxS_SQ9Yyea40Z61iCOYYKiH_z877hB-mPgmU8XDvzIZpayA0q1TW/s320/IMG_3132.JPG" width="211" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Brian encouraged Miranda and Sydney to enjoy drinking the fresh water carried into town from higher ground by the ancient aqua ducts. Although I'm always worried about drinking the water in Italy, we saw other people drinking it first, so when in Rome...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">On the way back to the hotel, we walked by way of Campo di fiori, quickly past the busy intersection in front of the Victor Emmanual monument (nicknamed the "wedding cake,") and by way of Trevi fountain one more time to see it lit up at night. We slept well after all that walking!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.917969); color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">But Sunday morning, we were (read: I was, at 31 weeks pregnant) still a little tired! So, after our hotel's buffet breakfast, we set out to visit some famous artwork in the Borghese Gallery (within the Borghese Gardens) and then caught a Hop On/Hop Off bus to see a few more sights. We ended our trip with a stop into Hard Rock Cafe for a little taste of "home" (nachos!) before we headed back home to Naples. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br />
</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-44082569355933815762011-11-11T00:05:00.000-08:002012-01-01T06:56:14.651-08:00Herculaneum (Ercolano, Italy)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ygUcrahQksE/TwBk4O4uJBI/AAAAAAAADMU/u79SUh_r7sM/s1600/IMG_2936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BgFHBRd3Lsc/TwBlL6H9zUI/AAAAAAAADMc/SPcPfSW6p7A/s1600/IMG_2939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BgFHBRd3Lsc/TwBlL6H9zUI/AAAAAAAADMc/SPcPfSW6p7A/s320/IMG_2939.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
On Veteran's Day, we ventured with Nana and Aunt Laura to nearby Herculaneum, a fascinating ancient Roman town destroyed when Mt. Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD, despite having been inactive for more than 800 years prior. The town was buried under approximately 50 feet of mud and ash and remained undiscovered for more than 1600 years. Then, in 1709 it was accidentally discovered by workers digging a well.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ygUcrahQksE/TwBk4O4uJBI/AAAAAAAADMU/u79SUh_r7sM/s1600/IMG_2936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ygUcrahQksE/TwBk4O4uJBI/AAAAAAAADMU/u79SUh_r7sM/s320/IMG_2936.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Pompei, a neighboring city, is bigger and more famous for having been destroyed by the same volcano eruption, since it received the brunt of the initial volcanic ash destruction. However, Herculaneum (pictured here) appears to be more well preserved since it was covered later and mostly by a type of volcanic mud and ash mixture.<br />
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It was long thought that most inhabitants of Herculaneum had escaped, since it was a relatively small city, more wealthy, and there was more time to evacuate as compared to Pompei. However, since 1981, 300 skeletons have been excavated from near the seashore, which is most notable because Romans generally cremated the dead and this was the first time Roman remains had been available for scientific study.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Vesuvius looms in the background</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ancient Roman snack bar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It was amazing to see how much of the original structures, wood, marble, and even paintings were preserved for all these years, encased in the volcanic mud. My personal favorite, of course, was the snack bar seen here--an ancient type of fast food and the original Mediterranean diet. How very modern!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original marble flooring</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original painting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-68417462737936331562011-10-07T00:08:00.000-07:002011-10-07T08:59:28.526-07:00All For Naught Wrought Iron?<div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFYBKkMjaIhVFVuUZnM7ueuBo_IGRdYlI9wD86aM-w_S2PT-3ddMzCHySZRv5qKlKqlOcit8fB8uVuV8LvO6tJnYNTmK2cB4U_bUHdIQdKol33Ky-hFPw_9B0GKKHpteBCR9aTP_MUdUR/s200/IMG_4934.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660757180566067682" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></div>After having seen a friend's Italian wrought iron fruit bowl with a built-in banana hanger, it jumped to the top of my list of desired Neopolitan souvenirs. (Of course, I'm still learning about all my options!) It is handmade in Italy, decorative, holds a ton of fruit in the bowl, and saves space while keeping the bananas separate from the other fruits to prevent spoilage. Maybe it's the dietitian in me, but I knew I had to have one! (That huge yellow fruit is an Italian egnazio hybrid melon...it's white on the inside, but tastes much like a honeydew melon.)<div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, finally, even when my veteran friends couldn't make it as planned, I was determined to find Ciro's and Luigi's wrought iron stores. Melissa was game to be co-pilot, and even taught me how to plug in the GPS coordinates that Linda had serendipitously provided just in the nick of time that morning. And after a major run-in with some branches on a narrow road (sorry, honey), and after safely driving through the busiest Italian intersection I've driven through yet, we made it to the stores! </div><div><br /></div><div>Rumor has it Ciro and Luigi are brothers who don't get along, hence their stores are side by side and not one and the same. Ciro speaks some English, has more simple designs (his description, not mine), sells mostly by order, and is generally less expensive. Luigi speaks no English, has more of a selection, brings his stuff to the NEX now and then, and is more expensive. Ciro doesn't make fruit bowls. Luigi does. Ciro was open that day. Luigi was not. Oh well, at least we know where we're going for next time!</div><div><br /></div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCIJthiHURfM9943Db_26VhG1D6zfNBCNxxF0MfYBvW3jDqaCyrR-IstNr7-el30nS-hBRyGUaJbpc9GXArmnxtO4bNd-Ha1lvx8JDrVzW3-5fU8QxE3kLdkxpvXlsfXA2NJA1iV0VUQ2/s200/IMG_4921.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5660756924083212674" /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, this week, we returned again, determined--even though I had to bring along my littlest shopper (which I try to avoid at all costs). Luigi was open that day. And Luigi had one fruit bowl. Check. Plus three decorative demijohn stand sets on order. Check, check, check. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-20924467782984865242011-10-02T00:04:00.000-07:002011-10-02T00:58:11.488-07:00The High Price of GasThis may be stating the obvious, but gas is really expensive here. It's about 1.7 Euro for a liter, which translates to about 6.50 Euro per gallon, or almost $9 per gallon! Fortunately, we receive 400 liters of NATO gas coupons per month to subsidize the cost. But it's still about $5 per gallon with the coupons.<div><br /></div><div>The coupons help a lot, especially because you can stockpile them from month to month. When you live on base and only have one car like we do, they go further. So far, they have covered all our gas expenses, even with taking a fairly long road trip about once a month. Even with driving 80 to 100 miles per hour!</div><div><br /></div><div>They are only valid for a fiscal year (from Oct. 1 to Sept 30), so yesterday was the day to trade in any coupons you haven't used in the last year. You get a credit for them and can apply it to your October monthly ration. The downside: if you've stockpiled them for a whole year to be able to travel when you want, then all of a sudden you're back to only 400 liters for the month of October. </div><div><br /></div><div>You can also only use the coupons in two chains of gas stations, Agip (soon to be ENI) and Esso. But there are many Agip and Esso gas stations, so it shouldn't present a problem.</div><div><br /></div><div>Notice I say <i>shouldn't</i> present a problem. Oh, the "discussions" Brian and I have had about refueling in Italy, and it's only been 4 months! Here's the gist:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Someone" likes to wait till the gas warning light goes on, then insist we have at least 70 miles left (while continuing to drive at 80 to 100 miles per hour) and that we'll be fine. "Someone" is usually driving, which <i>normally</i> is a good thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Someone else" likes to be efficient and refuel when we're about at about a 1/4 tank and happen to pass an Agip or Esso conveniently located along the road we're on. "Someone else" also can't help to envision what a major inconvenience running out of gas would mean, especially in a foreign country. In fact, due to "someone else's" active imagination, we were once so low on fuel that "someone else" had to insist on being left behind at the agriturismo near Lecce with the dog and kids while "someone" went alone to find a gas station. (It was a gamble, but "someone" <i>did</i> return, in case you were wondering.)</div><div><br /></div><div>So, indeed we have found there is a high price of gas in Italy, and furthermore, it's not just economical...if only the gas coupons could help alleviate the emotional costs! Nevertheless, there will still be more road trips in our future.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-42091904160127225252011-09-08T02:08:00.000-07:002011-09-29T13:30:36.616-07:00Let the Laughs BeginOkay, if you've even noticed, maybe you've been wondering where I've been. Under a rock, really. But now--hopefully--the initial overseas adjustment to Naples is officially over! I'm sure I'll still have my moments, but for the most part, I feel much more comfortable being in Italy and Naples. The kids are in school some of the time. Yay! I'm getting offbase and driving places by myself (well, not without the GPS). And I am even helping to plan our family trips and adventures (albeit last minute). But most importantly, instead of feeling nearly terrified to do anything that would draw attention to myself, I can now find humor in our cultural/language mistakes and laugh at myself--or Brian, as the case may be.<div><br /></div><div>So far, my favorite "foreigner moment" has been the time we returned to a local pizzeria having learned from our Italian neighbor to ask for more cheese, since they were a little skimpy the first time. And this time, Brian was feeling a little bold, so he ordered a Margherita pizza as usual and also took a stab at a Neopolitan pizza, even though he wasn't able to read the Italian description below it. After all, we are in Napoli, so we might as well find out how Neopolitans like their pizza. He ordered both pizzas with "molto fromaggio, per favore." </div><div><br /></div><div>Little did we know...the Neopolitan way (at this restaurant, but not necessarily everywhere in Naples) is WITHOUT cheese...so in effect, what Brian ordered was a cheeseless pizza with extra cheese! Hmm, the waiter gave us a strange look, walked away, and returned a few minutes later to try to clarify our order. Luckily, Brian guessed our mistake and we changed our order to two Margherita pizzas with extra cheese. Although the waiter wasn't rude enough to laugh at us, we sure got a good laugh!</div><div><br /></div><div>What are the odds Brian would pick a cheeseless pizza and add extra cheese to it?! I'm just glad he did--the whole experience helps to bolster my belief that something larger than myself made me snap out of feeling foreign in this foreign country. Well, <i>that</i>...and it's <i>always</i> easier to laugh at someone else's mistakes! But at least now that I can move past embarrassment and find humor in our inherent strangeness, I can really embrace living<i> </i>in Italy, mistakes and all.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-48594319302671559562011-09-05T17:51:00.000-07:002011-09-29T13:22:58.471-07:00Labor Day Weekend in Lecce and PugliaI've said it before, and I'll say it many times again, I'd never make it as a travel agent. I love taking trips, but planning trips is not something I enjoy. It's partly being in a new country and not knowing the language or how things work. But it is mostly that I hate the responsibility of making the right choices for the whole family, even in the most familiar surroundings. But even though we planned this weekend trip at the last minute, it turned out so well that--uh oh--it sort of reinforced the idea of waiting till the last minute to plan the next trip we take! I guess if it's meant to be, it will be!<br /><div><br /><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhObzA-IBgdh2JTH8wg_axldBc9tKUxks6EOBtC7SJp4CQIl3B3I__WTv6mSVsMMuylXJQvS2yXa-rp84OL__Ne6L2nBr_e8eXaGki0i8I1Vk9cdM-u4PsjxQX3kG93NTh9lQm0UT_rKVvt/s200/IMG_2543-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657866181223701906" /><div>We knew we wanted to make use of our Labor Day 3-day weekend. So, we decided to head down to the Puglia region in the "heel" of Italy, which was about a 4-hour drive from Napoli. We'd heard Lecce was a beautiful city about 20 minutes from the Adriatic Sea, but we decided to stay closer to the water and the beach, which was the first place we went as soon as we arrived. (The girls will forever have the dark, volcanic sand from the Adriatic sea in their bathing suits...good thing it's the end of the season.)</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJTapvTjp1QqBdry3-P8_Mt3ywGlQv6rauE_H2dAFAPKBJSCqF1R_mT9HxEHBBKadn4-WT0CIOPLe7wMGTahsEgWCnMlJkfG0QrrqqE9gE6iI-mMEvgteueIglsHE0NV5EjlO_Bdpybg9/s200/IMG_2638-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657872981121681890" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZn1ZSd6FbV-aklE9u33ZtBc7zeKloP7qM5J91lQeY0-4EFpaM-502oPhBVpDERNc3yFHN-BMoFzfmYI3jzpuRFWP09H5uhiSvqeEtwhyphenhyphendTCghiyA25qVWK2oqDOCk7G0ri8aIByf9nuoM/s200/IMG_2639-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657872650121757778" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px; " /></div><div><div><div>This trip, we wanted to try an agriturismo, which is a working farm along with a bed and breakfast that is meant to attract tourists</div><div> looking for an authentic, relaxing and rural experience. The agriturismo we chose was on an organic olive farm.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The price for two nights also included dinner (which was delicious and made with organic olive oil, of course), a horseback riding lesson (or ride around the ring for our little kids), a pool, and access to the private beach-front property within a 3-km drive, along with chairs and an umbrella. It was just the right balance of activity and relaxation.</div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRp1Ou_v7pyBC3ApPJpzbq4waCI-iOubzksDYFZb55ZtdHt59Zx5N2AHtzB6i6gQD3Qh5mZY-oFJw1YEc4xNd8h73ero3TcfvLLEU_9pQ1bKZP09guGGlzdma2N-MeJ4G-D1dvIx74JpI7/s200/IMG_2637-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657874419600909682" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8HiYVOm6EKAeIWo75FanYjqquYVrEiFT4ipVavXWmaTVSDCMW2Cx-I6sNHGOD9s1fgZRw9fKLRmYh_fubG1TsIAstapD6gYfFiOqlJkePaXI1qEN16qkAt67N5QeeDjqu3s5Yexy_2tp/s200/IMG_2597-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657867152325935906" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH1u9PJR4Ng6TPsxgUKZv-UgDUd8GvZENFE-8Pv0_REMsFWTB6IFVifzxFe5PCkPJzV0CZqrFGJHcgbVlsUGeggAqRnYsyXuVZJjU1s2xLq77P5Aja01jfzr5QTFAAQvM4bqhkcFLtXw1G/s200/IMG_2590-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657871400318896130" /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_g5vbWukcM17NeAsVTd0jM8xuBwk6fTP-1geJFvDUArv4rGZt9tG_58Z60F2CPlgnm_wyJi4JaCnPJ51ZclABk8tFoEiAjFUFWwj9vdZJ1ywlvUjRbuIku0_tWSLmbKT6-uNB8hh0JsO/s200/IMG_2594-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657871575263413234" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUSvd3_CJVAsFu0IFFoVpvLIXV8MobFmTnRjuhV-jouGn-xE1fyi0dE_DDh9eIts61UshJok-wxK53_1MMiDBioTHBadjKVYu_vXyQPHkPVrlMl6VvA1HHAzD1ibKLlXKrC_Rv9SYgTmWd/s200/IMG_2557-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657867067400090978" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px; " /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfz-tIsK0sOvXAV8A03xvdF7WSMBLGC2UAqUQBJ7pVKZaOlaZ67NBUmRoBm8JULM4x-U4UsHMRxNTf7BU1O09nlnF5YxfFR9w5os4mBHwGfThbKTsd5_Xob-jTipxobW5ohLiQeSDqaAPO/s200/IMG_2563-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657867378537469522" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>On Sunday we drove into Lecce to see the sights. First, we saw the Roman amphitheater built in the 2nd century with seating for 25,000 people; it was buried by other monuments over the years and today remains half buried.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJYNExUaFbEBLT6akLwmy6YwtB6T4Twpm-3xWuq1VRlwZW0svgYfZ4mjGIx57nQ4I7moicw8fUcYlKAz8kapa23ZiMxxQxy9JEMc0x09XnmXmC2VZF7rsSi27f2XZfdrYvCNA7qJ7s5a9/s200/IMG_2578-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657869082107350706" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px; " /></div></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWy72XkVIYMtVoGU72fKsi44yw15nYNWNBq8x1ve8JEiM6xZpIveHgfKCi9Oj6zD2Wb8vx_UznMiCyoCML78NRGBseJNu_kFNidBpymPMiIVYqd9LoHThRRVMxoz860BgLqhyphenhyphenygWiuZxBT/s200/IMG_2586-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657871039311347378" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px; " /></div><div>Then we visited Piazza del Duomo to visit Lecce's cathedral, which is said to be one of Italy's </div><div><div><div>most significant. It was built in 1144, rebuilt in 1230, and restored between 1659-1670. Then we meandered around looking at the beautiful, Baroque-style architecture of many of the churches in Lecce. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_zqVCmLcahIHaZcE0UU0PgSp6-ruDWSf9ueH7fidCQj1_Biv6MaseCRNhUWu_X_4qIolSAB1L9UClUUY_HuWk-0v9USaAdIu9gSCDNpla7YPh6A1auG6art3KVLvHo0zACwzXhcmRmMwQ/s200/IMG_2583-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657869863178276706" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px; " /></div><div>Finally, we rewarded ourselves with some local fare for lunch: rustico (a type of fried pasta), a fried calzone, and of course gelato on the way back to the car.</div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQuZF3c7HDN-ILtQaJ4yqrVA-kUCtmOOIf9gCGIgihfRSVFNvrpW_M8iZG_pMKlRJeb8KOVpMUZ91ftqAKbuLT9_vZRloFAPn26jNhUKRmGJU01e5U_6vmNvIopKD-rn4HPmCtYWReAP5o/s200/IMG_2606-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657872834660630322" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 129px; " /><div>Our favorite part of the trip began when Sydney and Miranda met their first Italian friends, Gaia and Luigi, at the agriturismo pool Sunday afternoon. All four kids swam and played for hours and didn't seem to notice/mind that they weren't speaking the same language! That evening at dinner, our families dined together and we were able to understand each other well enough to have a very enjoyable time! It still amazes me, since we know so little Italian and they knew very little English! But once we figured out we could use a little French to bridge the gap, we managed even better and had a great time!</div><div><br /></div><div>We even met up for breakfast on Monday, and then spent the day at the beach together before having to head home to Napoli. But not before exchanging addresses; we may be able to meet up again if we find ourselves in Bari--a comforting thought! Making a personal connection despite still feeling so out of my element turned out to be just what I needed from this spontaneous weekend get-away. Couldn't have planned that if I tried!</div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-43233150505361780712011-07-31T16:45:00.000-07:002011-09-10T01:09:24.571-07:00Weekend in Tuscany<div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwlz1Eji40QVYWaEf_mq3276elMmuU3uRcCuSwxI-NxAP3tDM1WGrPaNMO6iCJ3h0Yww06cMlF7C1aHWJLKr4ip0NzeNdQdSPHr_78HznFyY1C4qxsMTi10OQp2tDyE-T6DH3Y5w1VVaNn/s200/IMG_2407.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650416762627565698" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2H1hwVdGUeAgF0CkZgw7GDbnqFlmt0eoPH1Chx8vQHKyKl_5EYlxgEEbdXKykr1Gi9aN46vPQIjGD62PsMYJ87u-Itm3TkuoZui0CxnTsYGTP1j_vIwoctfYd2N0yk__sRO_sZ1Ci11gk/s200/IMG_2472-c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650437769847707474" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Chianti classico is one of our favorite wines, so when we found out the region of Tuscany is only a 3 to 4 hour drive from Naples, it was a no-brainer to make it our first weekend trip...even with me being pregnant! We ventured out the last weekend in July to beat vacationing Italians, who generally go away in August. </div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIqsTzTTtN-yYItRwI53kSX7DtcXnF9aLm6vncok37dpgQOUQfXRJ8UaJ90s6qKTsG0dFaoaN-qKabf1c-gXhpMrHRvjjNbYmcSRlk6OH2aarlTHbWSSmYiXeeiLuj7kGb7wsMm52Dvama/s200/IMG_2478-c.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 78px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650438395003815122" /><div>We stayed at a quaint inn in rural Arezzo, in the eastern part of Tuscany. Fields of iconic sunflowers and rolling hills full of vineyards were EVERYWHERE! And right outside the door to our "family room" were also fragrant lavender bushes; I was pleased to find a sachet in the room for the taking.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbbnq5G4YXsM_cGOmRn75UsI1fS14_h2E2o_4TsIKwf2TmNt8f2-Pwl5tSCYGsnlWDhjf7U6Gc3rtDaF9CbRGCpA-hAX_C41wCvdxoTyBGjKVPYcaIHdqcYEI-oD8bz0rF6V460VmixL-/s200/IMG_2392.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 134px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650362532813728210" /><div>We spent Friday afternoon swimming in the pool at the inn. With plenty of snacks, we held out until 8pm to enjoy a gourmet Italian meal at the inn's restaurant. We told the waiter we wanted to try a chianti classico, and he returned with a half bottle (since I'd just be having a taste) of what he described as "a VERY good Chianti classico." We were slightly worried about what the price might be, since we hadn't even looked at the wine menu. Come to find out we could more than afford the 4 euro (about $6) price! Gotta love Italy! We also tried some regional cheeses and cured meats, a pasta dish with buttery white truffles and a delicious but huge portion of regional steak. Even after 10pm, the girls were most excited to finally get to the gelato dessert.</div></div><div><div><br /><div>We eased into our Saturday morning with cappuccinos and an amazing, typical European breakfast spread including muesli topped with fresh nectarine (okay, only I ate that), cured meats and cheeses (and only Brian ate that), yogurt, breakfast cakes, and a variety of cornettos (croissants) filled with Nutello, marmalade, or cream (my personal favorite). Yum!</div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gXuQy5UbKD8mniVKbV2MXA2MTa1MndTKYATdz9Lqg9klT83M4D7j4xBsnZIy_LbuOLG97bjF_m4GyxkKS2kFkjrGVgTS0r4IO0jrdXZffqsCalY-vR8at_KH-3yS9ftt2RJQD39khuAC/s200/IMG_2430.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650380489077074562" /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHqdXwC3HzFEn1JO9x2-vS6dHcxrhCXRvExO30NW_XHutmZjaASLqJmYMw1pPiCZCm-tzaS5NY5bwKMDflwzeNuAVLMnyyIOxtiCJjmn4wI6fLnYJkZ4A87vHhyphenhyphen1pSdke_LUkqlz1bSSnc/s200/IMG_2431.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650381682422855058" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After breakfast, we drove about an hour to Greve in Chianti (the main city center of Tuscany). We enjoyed walking around the Saturday market, where you could find everything from fruits, vegetables, cheeses and meats, to rugs, shoes, and clothing, etc.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnFrr_CG4fxmk_IV1ZO8mwIkwK0l-CD_qCdea3W1OsZ19FiwaKdyAZwYxqmt0cMm6zxgv1Aq4KEWYEmppBKzWng9iXwHYnvPJtTB-t3BTUeCUnO8XEl7uyJCwaBXQfAp_vZ0m7q5t37YsC/s200/IMG_2438.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650386542778902034" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKZnaKSAt41TCAEuEiuHm4aNfLvq_1wWnahK0nvrntWpuJ-3A7vSkWBdtEyIVXa2394p6uZZTkwGQNjFGtd5-7utfuXzu5l7LCraHwqwtAagnqjfH7UWAXnfmbvWyF6SK8nAKRoGHqZI4/s200/IMG_2445.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650432431790241874" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Then we ducked out of the main piazza (square) into an enoteca (wine store) to explore the possibilities. We moved on to a tasting center, where you could pay anywhere from a Euro to several for a taste of hundreds of different types of wine. We were happy to find our favorite (special occasion) super tuscan wine Antinori Tignanello Tuscano--you could buy a TASTE for about $8...the whole bottle for about $80. But we already know it is good, so we passed.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4AR72NPI2L9IAw5bj4pLS8bqeDUI_-LyrEZM81lqvr2Ow2EAIO9XBWVcUNTBh-WnGJn2lir8ojELXSnixbj8nPlBI-GmryptcHOK5oH8tnW2vo8yw_tS0Zc5pdsow5ow4dMBbVlhw2y_-/s200/IMG_2432.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650382533809113506" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px; " /></div></div><div>I snapped a photo (for my New York-born Mom) of a statue of Giovanni da Verrazzano, an Italian explorer who was the first European explorer of North America, and in particular New York Harbor (1524), since the vikings (around 1000 AD). I just knew he must be important since there's a bridge in NYC named after him.</div><div><div><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div><div>For lunch, we had one of my favorite Italian dishes yet, ribollita, which is a "reboiled" white bean-based stew with cooked greens and day-old bread used as a thickener. It was wonderfully rustic and wholesome, but more importantly, delicious. (And the only reason I even knew what it was is because of my foodie friend, Darlene!)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZVVmLB5bAN7BjjK8ZkuE72PZfDKKg63o5HJCErHf5et7tx9Xc9jwfzOCvUC0_2Y5nLQwUgDw-n-x2oc0CSdjYvrlpeh-lNdLKG8TukdAvZHIQEXyj1DqL5ba0GeGYgBtazAO3s78eMMU/s200/IMG_2451.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650387420749307666" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px; " /></div></div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAShJppO_-uve2QR653DqdFpGEp8FBJSyoy5RJUOkTIpPiYqGcojyTEs7EYZjl1ewXWFzRmuBbTtrI0eZ95xuIsAsJO8VeHKoMe8uys9oSve5OMfiyPWbRopZk2e2bwEVBISCrHZOJnzAs/s200/IMG_2465+%25282%2529-c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650438006223103906" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 120px; height: 200px; " /></div></div><div><div><div>On our way back to the inn, we stopped at a Chianti winery, Villa Vignamaggio. Although we missed out on the tour since it was booked, we really came for the free tastings, so it was all good! We bought two bottles of Chianti classico and two bottles of their Super Tuscan blend. Four bottles down, 496 more to go to reach our total wine shipment allowance!</div></div></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div>Sunday we drove to Cortona, the city where Under the Tuscan Sun was partially filmed, to spend the day before driving home. The movie is loosely based on a book with the same title, which was written by a woman (Frances Mayes) who moved to and still lives in Cortona. We happened on the first day of the Tuscan Sun Festival, but most of those activities were either off the beaten path or taking place in the evening. So we walked around the town taking in the beautiful sights, enjoyed a nice lunch al fresco, and ate the obligatory gelato-reward-for-good-behavior before reluctantly heading home. But we will be back...preferably when I can drink more wine.</div></div></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDefaxz5pCxlH6KlqTY8NUkm_8B6MMz5s3IWjETa68TGlZOEweaAmXSMMp6_seDWPoQ-pBbLYRLtvIlwQUgzudLKPoDAXwHD0tEmB__WZjXeBoQp6dJT1oRTiJQfVecqqA8MMNy-kCo9rR/s200/IMG_2494-c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650438607466593810" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3G-Zz9N3yxxVuW5WDZwKYlEovniUyDqWhgBuR6YkuGIZ4ap6S26ZAUN-ldHl1QJbJqmCUfQhSdKnK562048DKVtXUIz3_wHDYo-wuTy65dcvWYBVve62cS857x1qLnviutxqp_rpya0b/s200/IMG_2524-c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650439234092017090" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /></div><div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-39675891212921219262011-07-26T13:09:00.000-07:002011-08-03T04:45:05.860-07:00Downtown NaplesI couldn't have done it without my tour guide/navigator, Melissa, but I did it--I finally drove off-base in Italy! It was only about 10 minutes each way to and from the Aversa train station, but it's a start!<div><br /> <div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVPan2cKxPD0xP6H1em89dmVML0YNXb5Rbfr5hHJ9pN5UiduiC7ndGW3v9GsdQeI7Ec6waZbNAAyZBUJsZylu6AtSbywKKsb2-Ly3kfYhxsejIEMpBFfiNFYYRO8J3-uQ2U-VXKneL8CyO/s200/IMG_4634.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634320906951272258" /></div><div>We were on our way to explore downtown Naples (complete with friendly nationals willing to smile and wave for my random photos), which I still hadn't seen in the eight weeks we've been here. So, we parked the Pilot in a big lot, bought our tickets for each way at one train station and walked the three blocks to the correct train station. We hopped on board and began our smooth journey into Naples! (With walking time and waiting time between trains, it probably took about 1 1/2 hours to go the 30 miles to Naples, but 10 minutes was all I was willing to drive for a first try!)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2DXw_XykN4-5uQ7SPgcS3HDswqtrIZq8q5M0xj-Uo9gKAMAnXbk-8G3SlfQjBSzGYTTAZybi9HM8xW40AMVhEMK9l40ztEydy6U3KoQBVyoZbX9aZqWoruciXU0in9TDIWeddIHi5HF5/s200/IMG_4631.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634320051098500290" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJlH5Y1t0zuim2gZY5D9KJnWP-QFb3DDq1iQeE9fxaw6gv2ARIO5fTBnTk7eChh2r350qFhd1q0gwFeLOiMH6lD-1obcaxP8YVKcAVqZe5DreZsVYOGo1-CI9Ta0uJkIcfnuVLMLSaF5T/s200/IMG_4632.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634319850371253522" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was glad to learn Melissa also likes to go "by the book" when it comes to tourist recommendations, and she'd even brought a useful book. So, after our train ride, we wandered into a coffee shop mentioned in her tour book, since it was right across from the station. We bought our ticket for "un cafe" (an espresso) for 80 Euro cents (about a buck) from the cashier, edged our way up to the counter, plunked down the ticket plus an extra 20 Euro cents as a tip, and answered an emphatic "si" when asked if we'd like sugar in our espresso. After chugging it down in about two sips, we chased it with the glass of sparkling water that was provided. After no more than 10 minutes, we were on our way to see some sights. Truthfully, it felt noticeably weird to be done so quick, having bought into the Starbucks strategic marketing plan to linger and savor your coffee...but then again, an Italian espresso is a fraction of the size and cost of a Starbucks espresso drink, so we moved on to put our jolt of caffeine to good use.</div><div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbPYGPuMVvFeC6k0jcvkjfA8C70yJPcJgJEDiLRtJqA06KCyqALcM43TnQS4se8YdTWTO-ywnDUy6mYxk-Fe5JLPriCavyd9ku-V6DYcJW1W7QrtEMoIq4_VQ1-6815zXKbtrWbhLgG1DQ/s200/IMG_4640.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634315876056452258" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTR3A6Cy6oxYumEqqCIZRn4DYGMDRu8fp42plJ3LaEsKSYiIEFmX7Fb7j__knPWXATQr61a8bU3Z69lorQuKKDby5tds7Ph1Q6dmiYDk-2VSWnp6C6cxxj_DXW1MVOTB9pCTiGXdmS4Zh/s200/IMG_4643.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636588372512877586" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We walked down near the port of Naples, first stopping in the Galleria Umberto shopping arcade. It forms the shape of a cross, its roof is made of glass, and its floor is an impressive mosaic of the zodiac. Since all the Norwood women are Scorpios, I only snapped this one.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9GQQVBQj4rwJKHYjP_EZsRLWPzotABJFBWmHuH8V7_wbN3UokoGYgcZKXSLKvv84vVeBnVVbeTJtXmNCwVAXD3hyphenhyphenJkAkMBc5r5untVTJUR9MXm2UjK8oXgqIXphwhTfpF2C4SESSPFSd/s200/IMG_4647.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634315579026771122" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /></div></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxI1XDP7Vx119MsxnI6AWJuuwI225UrCUZ7TQtAKV0hrVX3Zz0BXPXcDnCYeXuDpK6IO2_oOZefao_uz-A0-4wEIeJYx6fpBKf3hutV-t9R1xw2TXCIg4arDK4_zVUOXFL-0gNfY5nbDR2/s200/IMG_4649.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634315378960402482" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmiZLHYF34FTsfiwDP-UtJTvfUcqTJfzbvoRfT1cs-hlmp7Vae5uIA1JWkguSeC4A_Hm5m8w6vNQI1ANPIZvkgzPUgBt0rEdA8WYYinLkICH4tlZJf2fHHLET_6s__B9QvkhIot8h0D-18/s200/IMG_4657.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634315094937170306" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /><div>Then we caught a glimpse of Castle Nuovo from across the street, saving a visit there for another day. We meandered on (chuckling at the international toilet flag) by way of the Opera House, each of us vowing to see an opera while living in Italy. We ended up at Gran Caffe Gambrinus, a famous historical coffee bar, where we just had to partake in our second espresso of the morning (only the third espresso of my life).</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU12K48asJxYzmbeP3LLsmUnmla1H9wkhwRJXtGmSBqY6MjqkXREgdoeSwP3ZeUpY8UjlbAzZygf5O2DN5s_ToMVR1r7wxzIjHOIC1spQWtSGo7m3d2BDmzVpb_E7ybOPnVV6TXiZpL0N7/s200/IMG_4671.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634314092436491842" /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbu3JLeu1eJFv5-AybxRdAi0WTMsXkA1tN0Rm1NgWemZElDhRqvuk7sNe723rhguwge1c2kT3hdKYB7i-tvpffOyyg5-LdnYiRnpk3CoWocDNRkZTPGY04khCSoFw2pYWkeNjYhmcxaM4/s200/IMG_4669.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634314852876822562" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>After that, we geared up for a trek across town to find some famous Neapolitan pizza. The guide book recommended <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "></span><span><span><a href="http://damichele.net/?lang=en">L'antica Pizzeria "da Michele"</a>, where J</span></span>ulia Roberts ate in the movie <i>Eat, Pray, Love</i>. But since it was already 2pm, the 50+people standing outside sealed the deal for Trianon (also in the guidebook) across the street. Not a disappointment in the least, it was most certainly the best pizza I've had yet! Now to bring Brian and the girls downtown...maybe once it cools off a bit.</div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-83893949067598112012011-07-21T23:50:00.000-07:002011-07-22T01:03:45.591-07:00The Newest Norwood<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWO-UrDnQNNW6CfLo6py9HM6W0pTzWcFKlxjmVUzIkbmbkxk5cjku71jDUlelf9kRGbZZ7KmrE6GywT8hMhLoeocU7zho5UU7o3N6qAB27j2vhMiQI-dj1w_Y5GtsohzgSbTjbWVzN3wnQ/s1600/12+week+ultrasound.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWO-UrDnQNNW6CfLo6py9HM6W0pTzWcFKlxjmVUzIkbmbkxk5cjku71jDUlelf9kRGbZZ7KmrE6GywT8hMhLoeocU7zho5UU7o3N6qAB27j2vhMiQI-dj1w_Y5GtsohzgSbTjbWVzN3wnQ/s200/12+week+ultrasound.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632065509960306370" /></a>We are excited to announce the newest Norwood will be born in Naples, Italy in January! <div><br /></div><div>Hence, I haven't been reporting on the wine (or food, for that matter) in Italy...but there will be plenty of time for that! And don't let this deter you from visiting--we plan to be as mobile as ever!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402311946817307063.post-29976024224208919742011-07-21T19:51:00.000-07:002011-07-22T01:05:24.469-07:00Defeated at IkeaWe have been in Italy seven weeks now. In our apartment three weeks. We are unpacked. But everything is NOT in its final resting place. Main living areas are decluttered for the most part. But bedrooms and closets are crammed just to conceal things, the piles high and leaning like the tower of Pisa. We are need of some organization in the worst way. So, naturally we went to Ikea!<div><br /></div><div>We (Brian, that is, I still haven't driven yet) geared up for the drive to Ikea last night, a Wednesday evening. We were warned that a weekend would be far too crowded, so we ate leftovers for dinner and scooted off with the kids in tow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Which probably was our first mistake. Wandering through a one-way-maze-of-a-store with these helpers at 7pm (or anytime, really) is not ideal. And it never fails, someone needs to use the bathroom at the most inopportune moment...Sydney emergently notified me of her need for a bathroom as soon as we got started. So, away we raced through the many crowds (don't know how there could be MORE people in this store on a weekend, it was that crowded), muttering "scuzi" now and then (which clearly doesn't mean "move out of the way please" like "excuse me" does, since no one budged!) Sure enough, the bathroom was located at the END, which was also the beginning of the maze, near the cafeteria. At least we didn't have to backtrack...we just restarted the circuit all over again.</div><div><br /></div><div>I instructed the kids to stay with Daddy, and got a 30-second head start. I raced around looking for everything on my list: a (pink?) rug for Sydney's room, something to organize the hall closets, something to organize the girls' toy closets, some more of the same shelving I've been using in the kitchen cabinets, curtains (although I forgot my measurements), and whatever else caught my fancy. But caught in the current of people, I reached the end with only two small storage items in my big yellow Ikea shopping bag. Not a good indication of success, but I trudged on and descended to the lower level to continue my search of the entire lower level despite feeling somewhat defeated already.</div><div><br /></div><div>By this time, Brian had the brilliant idea to take the kids to the outdoor play area. And after about 45 minutes of "shopping," I'd reached the check-out area. Self-service lines for 15 items or fewer were empty. But alas, I don't read Italian to serve myself! All the other lines? Full of at least 15 people each with 50+ items! I hesitated and switched lines a few times, trying to estimate how much time this would take for my two items totaling less than $10...I figured at least 30 more minutes. So, I surrendered my big yellow Ikea bag on a nearby display of flower pots and walked toward the exit.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I tell myself I could have had this same experience at the Ikea in Northern Virginia or even Japan. But deep down, I know there's more to it than simple shopping frustration. Moving to a foreign country has its benefits, but it also has its initial challenges--which in my experience, usually require adjustments in my expectations and attitude. I'm not there quite yet, but I know I'll get there! But not with the help from the GPS, but that's another story...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0