Italy

Driving south from Europe, you have to cross the Alps to drive into Italy. From anywhere. If it's not surrounded by water, it's surrounded by the mountains. Think about that when you remember how far Roman rule extended. We drove through the widest part of the Alps when we crossed Austria, Liechtenstein and a corner of Switzerland to arrive in Verona, Italy. The northern part of Italy, in the Alps, is still a lot like those countries. But, arriving in Verona is totally different.

The mountains were behind us and suddenly we see a Roman Arena. (Amphitheater) A long Roman bridge seperates two parts of the city. This was the home of Romeo and Juliet. We were in tourist country. People even visit Verona just to get married. We stretched our legs from the long periods spent in the car, walked around a bit....and moved on. My travel companians were still set on "going."

We drove through vineyard country. Rolling country, pretty country with lots of streams and rivers. If I had been traveling with my own Mother, we would stopped a lot more often. Then the land changed again. The mountains ahead weren't as high, but they were more than hills. Bologna was next. We were driving down a wooded, steep hill with a high stone wall on our right The wall ended just above town, at a sharp right curve and when we went around the curve, we were hit by an open jeep. A jeep with two policemen. Just a bump and no one was hurt, but we were the foreigners and it gave me quite a scare. I could just see "our word against theirs." And, our words couldn't even be understood. Listening to the policemen talk, I wasn't sure their words should be translated. They were throwing out more words per second then the human tongue should be able to get itself around, and arms were going every which way too. There was no damage to either vehicle and they seemed as anxious as we were to shake hands and move on. Which is just what we ended up doing. I don't remember anymore about Bologna. Having the police run into us was all we talked about, and we kept going before anything else could happen.

Bologna was at the edge of a smaller range of mountains and my Florence (Firenze) was on the other side. We arrived in Florance just before noon. In other words, just before Siesta. Which, at least when we were there in July, meant everything would shut down, close, lock up, be unavailable for at least 2-3 hours. Guess what? My Husband, and his Mother, and my Sister-In-Law, didn't want to sit around and wait. They voted to keep going. The only request I had made before leaving home, AGAIN, and I was out voted. NO museums. NO Leonardo da Vinci. NO shopping on the Old Bridge. NO sitting or wandering along the Arno River. NO Palazzo Vecchio. NO art masters. They did drive up the hill overlooking the whole city where a plaza holds one of the life size copies of Michelangelo's "David." It was a beautiful view and it's etched in my mind. But, I was now officially ANGRY and BITTER. I was not a good sport. I was not a cheerful traveling companian. I was not pleasant!!! In fact, it was mentioned by two someones that I was a Bitch, with a capital "B". And, I didn't care.

All the way, due east from Florance to Pisa, I held on to my "bad mood." But, Pisa is a wonderful place to recover. Of course everyone knows about the Leaning Tower, but you should see the Cathedral of Pisa and the round Baptistry that sits on the other end of the Cathedral from the Leaning Bell Tower. A soft white and gray marble with hints of pink. They deserve more attention then they get. Each, including the Tower itself is ornately carved and decorated. The Tower reminded me of seven layers of a wedding cake. Back then, in 1965, tourists were still allowed to climb the bell tower. Two walls seperated by a spiral staircase lead you to the very top. The center is hollow and open. Maybe R.B. was just a bit aware of my disappointment over our last stop. (???) She offered to hold the baby so I could climb to the top. (Maybe she got a look at all those stairs, and didn't want to try it.) Now let me digress and tell you that B.B. and I had already learned how much the Italian men like to pinch the ladies. Where ever they can reach you. The climb is up that very narrow staircase where you have to turn sideways to pass the others who are coming back down. I had made the mistake the first time I met someone of turning inward. Full frontal pinch to both breasts kept me from repeating that mistake. Better my butt than my boob. We were both black and blue by the time we'd made it to the top. And I swear they weren't all Italians. Tourists in every country must have heard the "when in Rome" thing. Once on the top, the view was grand, but we both stayed up there a long time before we convinced each other we had to get back down. Some experiences are remembered for the wrong reasons. (Angry thought.......wish my Mother-In-Law had climbed that staircase!)

((Sorry, I just have to say, she was a wonderful person and we had a very good relationship, even after her son and I were through. I made sure she and her family got to stay close to their first Grandson, and they appreciated it, and were good to me. That was the only time, ever, that I was mad at her.))