Patricia's Blogging Project: italia 3.0

A few days before we went to Italy, Mike needed to move. And not just from one apartment to another, from one apartment to one 25' long boat. That meant things had to go to the dump, to the Goodwill, to garage sales, to storage and into plastic bins. Sorting and deciding, moving and cleaning. Working. And, oh yeah, getting ready for a trip. On our last rainy and stormy Sunday, we sailed the Eider across Lake Washington, dodging cloudbursts as they zipped over the lake. We moved our ship from this nice spot:

To this nice spot where Mike now lives:

We tied the boat up, failed to get the power to the heater working, stressed out about it, and got it fixed later. So it went with most of the things we needed to do. We tried, we failed, we stressed out about it, and succeed. Finally, we left for the airport and succeeded in making our flights, grateful for being done with the move.

Arriving in Rome was surreal. Mostly because I wasn't able to sleep on the flight, but also because Mike and I had never flown anywhere together. We had been domestic, road-tripping, van sleeping, boat sailing people up until that point. But there we were, having forgotten our Italian, waiting for the train to town. We visited everything that didn't have an entrance fee. I had a whole subconscious list of places my feet wanted to wander to. We saw my old apartment:

2006

2010

We saw Mike's old apartment too. He went to school in Rome in 2004, two years after I did. It was a lot of fun and lots of walking, which is how I remember Rome best.

Next we moseyed a cool 9 hours by 2 trains and 2 buses to Ravello, to greet my family! Heidi, Mother and Father were all there, waiting for us when we arrived. We all decided it was a bear trying to get around the Amalfi Coast by bus. Then again trying to make it by car would have been a bigger challenge! We enjoyed some of our favorite gardens, ate some delicious things and took in the huge views from way up there.

Villa Ruffalo

Their good sides.

Villa Cimbrone

Villa Cimbrone

Villa Ruffalo

While we all waited for the bus to Positano, our next spot by the sea, we discussed the confusion, attitude and general unwillingness to help that we encountered in the south of Italy. I longed for lines and signs and people who at least pretended that they were glad you were there visiting. Mike pointed out though, that if an Italian stood in a line, asked politely, made room, told you when you got to the bus stop that you asked for or sold you the thing in their shop window that you wanted, they wouldn't be Italian anymore. They would be German or English. That creative, explosive, self-centered, demanding attitude is what makes them who they are, and they don't need to change that for me.