Bitches Be Wearing Wigs - Hampton Court

So I'm sure you're all very curious about why Kirsten and I decided to visit London. Someone was demonstrating a strong obsession love for the show the Tudors so I suggested a pilgrimage. No Tudor pilgrimage would be complete without a trip to Hampton Court where the crazy courtier life of HVIII took place.

Of course you don't show up for Henry's court looking like a shlub. That wouldn't get you through the gates. Kirsten insisted that only the straightest loveliest hair would do for Henry. I figured Henry, being dead and all, would just appreciate a woman who has, you know, skin. At first we were sure that the fact that they didn't bathe much in the 16th century would give us an edge. But then Kirsten quickly pointed out that our hair may not gain us favour with the king because the women of the those days covered their greasy hair with wigs and everyone smelled, so really, what's the difference? We soldiered on.

A view of the outside of the royal apartments

Hampton Court is gorgeous. We considered taking the boat in from London and arriving as they would have nearly 500 years ago but between the 3 hours it took (we are not early morning risers) and the damp chilly weather, it wasn't to be. It's about 30 minutes away and was a favourite of Hank because it was far enough from the various diseases raging through London.

This is another castle where the exhibits are beautifully and brilliantly set up to give you a slice of life - rather than to overwhelm you with detail.

Hampton Court was originally built by Cardinal Wolsey as a place to host the obviously pious European leaders. I think the wine fountain in the front court must have had deep religious experience. Anyway, Henry wasn't about to let this twit have a better house - so he took it. I will let you wonder what became of Wolsey's head a few years later when he failed to help Henry get a divorce from Catherine of Aragon.

We couldn't resist starting with Henry's apartments, which were set up for his wedding to his final wife Katherine Parr. She was the luckiest of them all because he died before she could displease him. Henry did walk by us and even spoke to us. But no proposal. You know it was his wedding day. Would have been a bit rude.

A few enjoyed the wet weather. The gardens were lovely but a little damp for exploration.

From Henry's apartment we toured the apartments of Mary II. Instead of setting up these rooms with traditional furniture of the time, there was a gorgeous art exhibit called The Wild, The Beautiful and The Damned, which traced the debaucheries of Charles II court through paintings featuring his mistresses. Naughty bunch and I quite approve. I'd rather a King who slept around than one that murdered tens of thousands for their religious views.

All in all, Charles had 14 children with his various mistresses. None with his wife. So the crown goes to... James II, his brother, who brought Catholicism back and the threat of a male Catholic heir. And so then the glorious revolution thanks to his scheming Protestant children. All this being said... let's hear it for the separation of church and state. 

The costumed characters in this area included the artist Peter Lely and Charles' mistress Barbara Villiers. Next thing you know, Kirsten and I are helping Barbara undress and redress for the sitting of a portrait and I'm sitting on the floor at Barbara's feet as Peter prepares to paint her as the Roman god, Diana the huntress... and I am to be part of the portrait as Minerva and was instructed to "look up at her in hopeful admiration". Sadly, I don't have a picture to share.

I won't take you through all the apartments, but they taught so much about the history of the monarchy and the misery of court life for everyone. Behind the merriment was a hint of indentured servitude, the threat of losing your life over gossip and accusation. If you think about it, the most honoured position was to be the dude in charge of the privy chamber. "May I wipe your behind sir?" For the royals, there was less privacy than now and greater chance of death.

This place is probably crawling with ghosts at night.

One effectively creepy moment involved walking down an empty staircase, no one else is around us, we could hear the voice of young child whispering the fate of each of Henry's wives: "Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived." Ok, well that's ingrained in the memory. And all memorialized on Kirsten's new mug "The Vanishing Heads of  the wives of Henry VIII".

Our next stop... The Tower of London... and the murder continues.

London Calling... In hindsight

I had every intention of posting while I travelled with my friend Kirsten in London last week. Well the wifi gods were against me, so instead I'm doing post trip postings. If that annoys your sense of authenticity, tough. :) Enjoy!

Watch where you're going, you foolish tourist!

I think I may have learned to play poker at Kensington Palace! But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

London is even more beautiful than I remember it. And the weather even less cooperative, but it is London so suck it up and get on with it, which, I believe is what they really mean with "Keep calm and carry on."

The flight over was relatively uneventful, as is normal when spending 6 and a half hours crammed in a shoe box 30,000 feet in the air. One note to fellow overnight travellers: if the sign says fasten your seat belts, stay in your damned seat. The rest of us really resent you having to be told to sit down over the PA in two official languages PLUS Hindi for good measure. 

The first couple of days were dedicated to getting oriented. We're staying in Kensington right near the High Street and the palace. Thank the sweet Lord, we are right next to a Boots. Every hotel on earth should be required to have a large drug store next door. It's more important than a coffee shop, I swear. 

  

I don't think I did a very good job of warning Kirsten that in the night, I may turn into a moaning ghost. Not sure if I can spell this out well, but it's best described as a cross between Jacob Marley from "A Christmas Carol" and any number of the ghosts from "Scooby Doo."  Thankfully she hasn't smothered me with a pillow. Not yet anyway. 

But on to the sites! The first day was really sunny and lovely. We did the hop on and hop off tour to get oriented to the city. The tour gave us a fantastic view of every angle of Big Ben. I have pictures of Ben coming and going, underneath him and from a distance. Ben and I are tight. 

One of the many views of my friend Ben (plus some dude's balding head)

We ended day one with a ghost walk where we learned snippets of history, saw the Savoy up close (Bev Oda does have good taste) and spent some quality time in a pub. Hard cider tastes even better here. 

I was assured that I was less disruptive in my second night of sleep. However, a familiar obnoxious feeling crept into my throat. By 1 pm the next day there was no denying it. I have my traditional travel cold. In the last 3 years I have not been able to travel without getting sick either during or immediately after a trip. Thank you forties. 

But before full blown congestion, we did see some sights. The highlight was definitely Kensington Palace.  We bought a joint membership, which not only gets us into 5 key palaces, it also legally weds me and Kirsten in a few countries. 

I'm glad we started with the Diana exhibit, because it was the most disappointing. It was billed as a glimpse of the princess. Well that's accurate. 5 of her dresses crammed into one small room. I was really hoping her wedding gown would be there, but the gown that 10 years later influenced the puffiness of my own wedding gown's sleeves was nowhere to be seen. 

The rest of the experience was outstanding. The king's apartment gave us a good understanding of George I, who was plucked from Germany to be king of England to keep those pesky Catholics off the throne. He couldn't speak English and was coached by his advisors to say "I'm here for the good of you all!" But instead he said "I'm here for all your goods." I believe I've witness this type of PR situation in my career as a communicator. That's what you call the "jumping for the microphone" moment. 

This is where I learned to play poker! Ok it's called Commerce, but whatever. A young courtier taught us how it worked to live in court and earn favour. Playing cards was extremely important and helped you to move up the ranks. He taught us the popular game at time, which, with its 3 of a kind, straights and flushes, must be a precursor to poker. Anyway, I won. I can't tell you what I won because I don't think Kirsten has broken it to her husband that she put him up for collateral. She claims he was offered because she didn't have any land to wager.   

In the Queen's apartment, the most helpful man on earth cleared up about 300 years of confusing history by explaining what happened in the time between Elizabeth I and Victoria. Don't get him started on how they teach about the glorious revolution in school. 

The Victoria exhibit shed light on this fascinating woman. Most of us think of her as a dour widow but she was young and lively and beautiful during her years with Albert. She had 9 children with him. And she was devastated and heartbroken when he died of typhoid fever at 41. Oh yeah, he was her first cousin. 

Interesting tidbit, the 2 most remarkable love matches in royal history - Victoria and Albert, and William of Orange and Mary II - were between first cousins. Go figure. 

A feeble attempt to hold Ben

We ended our rainy day tour with a trip on the London Eye. Not really sure it was worth the nearly 20 quid. We did get to see more angles of Big Ben and there was a woman on board who appeared just this side of crazy. Oh, and we conquered the tube.

Today we're off to Hampton Court. Kirsten is hoping to find a "Henry's 7th wife" shirt. I'll be looking for nasal spray and perhaps clotted cream. 

Positano - the walk of the lazy

It all started with such good intentions. We'll have a decent breakfast, make our way to Praiano and do the amazing, highly touted Sentiero degli Dei. But after breakfast the lounges chairs grabbed Dave and threw him down. I had to lay down as well lest they eat him alive. It was a worthy sacrifice.

We did finally make our way to catch the bus, and it was so fortunate because while the bus wasn't going all the way to Amalfi, it was going as far as Praiano - our starting point for the walk.

Before I go into detail about the drive, let me just share what we saw at one street corner. I think I've mentioned that the drivers are a tad aggressive and crazy. Add to that passionate - at the most inappropriate spots. This car was stopped at a stop sign - already an unusual choice - but the interesting part was that there was a young woman leaning in to the car giving the young male driver an exceptionally long and passionate kiss. I mean a get to third base type kiss. No worries about the people lined up behind, this young man had a job to do. I'm not sure what happened after we passed by... perhaps she got in. Anyway, on to the drive.

It was our first taste of the famed Amalfi Drive. Wow. Holy mackerel. That's really all I can say. I was impressed with the views from Cinque Terre. Well, this part of the coast is even more beautiful. The mountains are taller and the towns are bigger.

While you are able to capture an appreciation for it's splendor from the water, you really can't truly experience the staggering majesty of the heights until you seem to be mere centimetres away from certain death, clinging to the side of the cliff on a bus.

We read that we should sit on the right side on the way to Positano to get the best views. Heart stopping. I cannot imagine driving it. Thankfully the bus driver had a rosary hanging from his rear view mirror. It's important to make peace with your God when you know you may meet him at any second. Though it was a hair raising experience, it was so worth it.

When we got to Praiano, it was shockingly quiet when compared to the constant scooters and cars of Sorrento. We wandered around a little lost, going up and down switchbacks looking for lunch spot before heading out on our walk. All the while we were followed by a dog who gave us small heart attacks every time he'd go out on to the road. We decided to name him Beppe.

We found lunch at Hotel Margherita. The woman at reception explained how to find the walk. Oddly enough, as soon as she mentioned that it required climbing 2000 steps to reach the start and the hike required 3 1/2 hours to complete, the sky seemed that much cloudier. Definitely a threat of rain. Far too dangerous.

After we finished lunch the hotel's proprietor drove us to the bus stop. He goes down in our books as the nicest man on earth. Another wonderful act of kindness. Instead of the gruelling walk, we ate cannolis and drank limoncello. Seems like a fair exchange really.

You know what's scarier than experiencing those cliffs on a bus? Riding back standing up. I had to keep reminding myself I wasn't going to fall head first out of the bus and into the sea. Thankfully the pouring rain held out until we got out of the mountains.

One last note comparing Cinque Terre and the Amalfi Coast. The views may be that much more stunning on the Amalfi, but Cinque Terre hold a greater charm for me. Really, the only option is to do them both.

This morning the sun is shining and it's our last full day in Italy. We'll likely take a pass on another bus ride and instead indulge in "Dolce far niente" - the sweetness of doing nothing - and save our energy for the flight and then adventures in Paris.

Ciao ciao

Exploring Campania

Sorrento has not been what I expected - very disappointing because I was really looking forward to this part of the trip.If I come this way again, I won't stay in Sorrento. By the time I leave I may teach a few people new English swear words.

We've decided to handle our extreme distaste for this town by heading out every day - which was our goal in the first place, so nothing lost there.

Our initial goal for day one was to relax and chill. After a walk to the town square about 1 1/2 kms away, we decided that was a ridiculous idea and headed to Capri. While it may only be 4 miles long by 2 miles wide, it rises to majestic heights from the sea.

As the hydrofoil approached, Dave pointed to the highest point of land we could see and said "I want to go up there." Well, he got his wish. Looking down we could see water that was a particular shade of turquoise and so clear that the boats almost look like they are floating on air.

The port was a little chaotic, but offered much better information and signs than the stupid Sorrento port (clearly, I'm still annoyed). Instead of taking the bus or getting ripped off by a cab driver (again, annoyed), we took the funicular - a cable car that rides up the side of the mountain. Dave went into James Bond mode. When he realized he didn't have to fight Jaws, we both enjoyed the spectacular view of the mainland and sea.

The five minute ride up the steep cliff takes you to the heart of the town of Capri. From there we escaped the crowds and, once again, the cars and headed straight up - I mean way up - towards Villa Jovis, the Emperor Tiberius' "Pleasure Palace" - 63,000 square feet of naughtiness. He spent the last ten years of his life pursuing illicit pleasures. The ruins that remain can barely begin to scratch the surface of what must have been. The views from that summit force you to stop in your tracks, they are that stunning.

Today the main inhabitant of this fantastic villa are these adorable little lizards. It's true, I'm a sucker for a lizard. Which explains some of the guys I've dated.

Thankfully, the way back was all downhill. We rewarded ourselves with gelato (of course) and then cruised the ridiculously high end stores. Actually, we window shopped and that was shocking enough. A Hermes bag that cost more than this trip. I will always take travelling over a purse.

Today, the weather looked like it might be a bit of gamble. Would it rain? Would it be cold? We decided it was likely perfect weather to hit Pompeii. The last time I set foot in the ruins, I was 10 years old. I was looking forward to seeing them as an adult.

The adventure began with the Circumvesuvian. It has taken me 3 days to learn how to say that. This extremely efficient train goes from Naples to Sorrento and is amazingly cheap. We had the good fortune to be entertained by a three piece band. Music is everywhere in Italy. I'll hold dear the memories of wandering through every city and hearing an accordion. Not that I love accordion music, but of course it just fits.

When we entered a man tried to talk us in to a guided tour. We thought "pfff, we don't need no guided tour." Wrong. We went in about 200 metres and promptly turned back and hooked up with a tour guide. It was great.

The site is overwhelming. It's basically a complete town preserved for centuries by the volcanic ash that killed the inhabitants. Of the estimated 20,000 citizens, 5,000 were killed, not by molten lava but by the poisonous gas of Mt. Vesuvius, which looms in the background. The eruption took place on August 24 in the year 79 BC and the events of the day were recorded by a man on the other side of the bay of Naples who watched the mountain explode. It actually was double the size it is today - the eruption ripped the top of the mountain right off.

I could go on and on because I find this fascinating, but instead I'll say that the last eruption happened in 1944. Ash drifted far south to where my parents lived in the arch of the boot (we're at the ankle).

The preservation is astounding given the centuries that have passed. Frescoes are still preserved, jars completely intact, statues - all protected by the ash. And then there are the bodies. They discovered hollows with bones inside. An archeologist came up with the idea of pouring liquid plaster in to the hollows. This perfectly reproduced the bodies - right down to the expressions of horror on people's faces.

One of the neatest things about the ruins are the dogs that call Pompeii home. These poor abandoned puppies are fed and taken care of by local volunteers. It's fitting as dogs were common pets in the town back in the day.

The overall experience can best be described as haunting, overwhelming and an excellent reminder that we shouldn't waste our time worrying about terrorists. It's the acts of nature that has the real power.

Tomorrow, if the weather cooperates, we'll be doing the walk of the gods from Amalfi to Positano. What's one more hike.

From north to south

Our last day in Florence we decided David could wait because we were not interested in waiting in a line up that would likely stretch for hours. Instead we explored. We followed Dave's instincts and headed for the other side of the Ponte Vecchio, which was an great choice. We found all sorts of narrow little streets, a couple of churches dating back to the 15th century and even a traditional shoe maker and apprentice working away at their craft.

On the way back we stopped by the market and luckily for our bank account, my mood for shopping had passed. I hate to haggle and that's what the San Lorenzo market is all about. Loads of purses and wallets and scarves. Great deals in fact - it's where I found my purse the day before. Definitely worth a trip.

The locals call the market il Porcellino because of the bronze statue of a wild boar. I've since learned from Roberto that there were 5 casts made of the little fella and one of the statues resides at the University of Waterloo. I'll have to go visit. I can't believe we didn't get a picture.

We said goodbye to il Porcellino and headed to Napoli. We once again got to experience the super fast Eurostar, which shaved 2 1/2 hours off our trip!

Unfortunately, we had heard so many horrible stories about Naples that we were jaded before we got there. The cab drivers will rip you off. There are pick pockets everywhere. The only truth to any of what we heard is that the drivers are possibly the most insane in the world. Picture impossibly narrow streets (of course)with 2 way traffic and pedestrians who don't really see a need to get out of the way. Now add on dudes on their mopeds driving at top speed while screaming in to their cellular phones. I am not exaggerating!

Anyway, the cab driver was an absolute sweetie (and c*u*t*e!). Our hotel - Hotel Piazza Bellini - is easily the coolest, nicest place I've stayed. A converted 15th century pallazo, our room was a loft style with very modern decorations.

We started our visit as every tourist and local should - with Pizza. Neapolitans take their pizza very seriously. In fact, there is a guild sigh to let everyone know they are buying the real thing. The crust has to be just the right thinness, cooked in a wood oven and, traditionally, topped with nothing more than tomato sauce and buffalo mozzarella cheese. Who were we to argue with tradition? We went to Di Matteo on the advice of a travel writer. It was fantastic. Full disclosure - I had my first Neapolitan pizza at the age of 10 and did not appreciate it at all because it was not like my mother's. I've grown up.

We didn't plan to spend much time in Naples, but did hear that the historic centre was worth seeing. It is a UNESCO world heritage site. Right away it reminded me of a grittier, rougher New York City. This is what New York might have been like in the early 1900s. So full of energy, chaotic, slightly dangerous but really inviting. The crumbling buildings that give hints to their former glory also reminded me a lot of Havana, Cuba.

Aside from pizza, Naples is also known for making Nativity scenes or Presepi in Italian. There is an entire street full of shops dedicated to the figurines. Some of the traditional stables have been, shall we say, expanded upon, with the additions of rooms with little ovens for making pizza. I'm pretty sure there were no pizza makers recorded at the birth of Christ.

Ever present at all the churches were the "Travelers" begging for money. One incident was pretty comical. We got to a street corner and this poor old woman was begging - sitting so sadly - barely able to move - I felt so guilty. But then a cop showed up. She had no problem getting up and scurrying away. All guilt gone. I'm glad my mother never followed through with her threat to sell me to them when I was a kid.

I'll have to explore Naples on a future trip - it was definitely worth the stop - and half the price for lodging and food than the other places we've visited. For now we are in Sorrento with a view of the sea and Mt. Vesuvius. All we need is for the sun to return.

The easy way back

Today we decided to heed the advice of the owner of a gelateria and hike from Corniglia to Vernazza instead of the other way around. From now on, I’m consulting the purveyors of frozen treats for all life’s dilemmas. He did not steer us wrong.

After ”breakfast” and a leisurely stroll through the town of Monterosso, we trained it to Corniglia to start our journey. As an aside, we’ve decided we could make a killing if we came back and opened a restaurant that only served breakfast. We could open from 6:00 AM to noon and only serve full English, American and Canadian breakfasts (the bacons are all different). The rest of the day we can spend a spiaggia (at the beach). Italians are not big on breakfast. However, I have fallen deeply in love with cream filled brioches. It’s ok, I’m sure the walking makes up for it.

Corniglia is my favourite of the 5 towns. It may also be the smallest. It’s missing 90% of the tourists of Vernazza but has probably double the charm and none of the hotels.

We started out with a hearty lunch – thank you Robert for the tip – we found Ristorante Cecio at the top of the hill. It offered great pasta and an extraordinary view of the Ligurian Sea. As with the entire region, the food is simple but flavourful. Dave decided to go for pasta with pesto. To make it more interesting they also threw in a few potatoes and green beans. He is now a believer of pesto. I went for a more exotic feature by ordering pasta with crab meat and tomato sauce. The crab meat wasn’t plentiful, but it was tasty. A fried pork chop, salad and the ever present acqua minerale rounded out our preparatory meal.

Corniglia is at the top of a hill, Vernazza is not. Imagine then that the walk from Vernazza to Corniglia includes an unyielding and steep climb. The path coming from Vernazza had sets of stairs where you could not see the top if you were standing at the bottom. Those situations always make me want to sit on the ground and cry. Instead you summon up your inner goat, take your time and eventually you’ll get there.

The way we approached the walk was gentler and far less draining. Don’t be mistaken, there were still stairs, but not nearly as many and not nearly as steep. Stairs cannot be avoided in these five towns. Whether you take the paths or not, stairs are everywhere. My fitness trainer would be proud of me.

Compared to the walk from Monterosso to Vernazza, I found this path more scenic – the entire time you have a view of the sea - and less treacherous because the path was wider. The way was so scenic, in fact, that you had to remember to look forward and not just out at the view. A path made of stones and stairs tends to offer a number of tripping hazards if you aren’t paying attention.

I wish I knew what flower was giving off the sweet scent that accompanied us on our
walk. It kind of smelled the way honey tastes. If I ever get to smell it again, it will take me right back to a turn on the path where we caught our last good glimpse of the town of Corniglia.

As we approached Vernazza we encountered a fair number of people who obviously had no idea how hard their work was going to be. We saw a lot of men in sweaters who would surely be topless by the end of the journey, a number of questionable choices in footwear, and a couple people carrying purses and bags. My favourite was a guy wearing a coat and carrying a laptop bag – it didn’t even have a shoulder strap. I kind of felt bad for not warning them, although turning back would cost them no more than a bit of tarnished pride.

Once we reached Vernazza there was time for a coffee, a gelato and a bit of shopping for a Christmas tree ornament – a travel tradition that I have come to cherish. Vernazza is still too busy for me to want to spend too much time there.

Three days was the perfect amount of time to spend in Cinque Terre. It gave us time to explore the narrow passage ways (you can’t call them streets, especially because cars aren’t allowed), discover the regional wine and food and hike a decent amount. It feels like this is a bit of dream come true. We will come back. Dave keeps wondering how much for that apartment overlooking the sea.

We have our train tickets for Florence tomorrow. I always find travel days stressful – probably because we’ll only have 10 minutes to catch the train from Pisa to Florence. Well, if there’s a mishap, there’s always a leaning tower we can visit.

Rome day 2: We walked and walked and walked some more

I'll admit it, I apparently have zero sense of direction. That may have added about 4 kms to our walking today, but it was glorious.

After dedicating a full 12 hours to sleep last night, we made the decision to forgo our original plan of doing a hop on/hop off tour of the city and instead take advantage of the walking tours included in our Frommers guide book. It was definitely the right choice.

We decided on the Renaissance Rome walk with the full intention of then doing the Heart of Rome as a follow up. The majority of the walk took us along a quiet nearly deserted street, Via Giulia, that runs parallel to the Tiber River. What a gem.
Nearly every palazzo on the street was built 300 - 400 years ago and were homes of great artist and powerful families. Many were commissioned by the wealthy Popes of the day - I guess there were no vows of poverty back then. One particularly fascinating find was the church of Santa Maria dell'Orazione e Morte. The monks who lived here would gather the the unclaimed bodies of the homeless and prepare them for burial. Someone had to do it. I especially liked the skulls carved in the facade. No point in being subtle when you've got a job to do.

We eventually made our way to the Campo de'Fiore. My only regret is that we hit it on a Sunday - when there is no fresh food market. We did take advantage of one of the many restaurants and enjoyed the company of our lovely Scottish waitress (that was unexpected) at The Drunken Ship. The beer was so nice and cold and she even directed me to where I could grab a sandwich across the way and bring it back. I so admire people like her. She just decided to up and move to Rome for six months because she came for a visit and loved it. If you have children, encourage them to be adventurous.

We were completely taken by narrow winding streets of 16th and 17th century buildings. We'd be walking along streets with insane traffic and veer off slightly only to find the most quaint and quiet little havens with a fountain in the centre or a church with paintings by Carravaggio tucked away. Dave continues to be amazed and enthralled by how small the cars are.

Of course so much walking meant having to keep up our strength. So after we admired the architectual wonders of the Pantheon, we had our first taste of gellato. Caramel Cream, Strachiatelli, Baci and Capuccino - that's right, 4 flavours in one glorious waffle cone. Such magnificent yumminess. We enjoyed it while people watching on the step of the fountain in the centre of the Piazza in front of the Pantheon. It was interesting watching the difference in Italian parenting - when one boy got particularly whiney because his brother touched him, one "OH" from his father was enough to shut him up instantly. I'm going to try using that voice at work when I get back.

This is, unfortunately, where my sense of direction got us completely going in circles. A helpful police officer and one guy on a moped gave us pretty vague directions but we finally found the Trevi Fountain. It was incredibly crowded - I can't imagine what it would be like there in August. It's also not how I remember it as a kid. I wonder if I'm remembering another fountain altogether. It was still rather magnificent.

We knew it was time to call an end to our tour when we got to the Spanish Steps and we both said "Seriously? We're supposed to climb this f*&^ing thing?" We picked our way through the sea of humanity that were occupying the steps and decided to start our search for dinner. Thankfully at this point Dave's sense of direction kicked in and he got us going in the right direction. He later mused that he really appreciated how confident I was each time we set out. He's a patient, patient man. That being said, as I type this, he is downloading "Rome to Go" maps for his iPhone. "No offense," he said. None taken.

Tomorrow we're going to hit ancient Rome.