Treehouse Pix




Here's where we're starting from: our house north of Stillwater. Looking for a good tenant who will treat the place like home.

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Italy, On My Own This Time

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In this blog I've covered past trips to Italy. This one is different. Since Gauss died last June, I've thought I should come back here, for several reasons. The first is to immerse myself in the language and force myself to speak it. Before he got sick, Gauss and I had planned to spend some time here after he retired. I'd been hearing him speak Italian with his parents for so long that I understood much of what I heard. But I've had difficulty generating speech on my own. He told me, "If you spent three to six months here, you'd be able to speak." Well, Gauss is no longer with me. I don't have him to lean on, so it's up to me to get around. And I'm happy to report that I've managed. In the ten days since I arrived, I've become more confident (or maybe more desperate!) so I just launch in, knowing that my Italian is lousy. But people are understanding me. Pasta with the Papagnos, first night here. Costanza had to reple...
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When in Rome...

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Gauss and I had been through Rome only once before following our ill-fated flight from Sri Lanka to Italy in 1982. My memories are hazy and few. Back then we landed at Da Vinci airport and had to get to Milano. Nerves jangled, we were not about to board another plane just then, so we took a bus to the train station. I recall rolling past the coliseum and being a little surprised that it was right there , although I was unable to muster anything resembling enthusiasm. This time we vowed to pay attention. I planned only one thing in Rome—a visit to the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum. I made an online reservation a month in advance so that we would not miss it, printed the entrance voucher (NOT TRANSFERABLE printed across it in bold letters) labeled it with a Post-It, and added it to the folder of important travel documents. We had another aim for the day as well: to get Italian SIM cards for the cell phones we'd purchased in anticipation of the trip. Despite the seve...
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A Rainy Day in the Heart of Rome

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Before our trip, I had naively assumed that we would be able to just walk through the Coliseum but as it turned out, we needed tickets for it, too. If we’d had smart phones, we could have purchased the tickets online after visiting the Sistine Chapel and walked right in. But it was late in the day and anyway, we were cheap luddites who only had dumb phones, so we decided to come back later. This time we checked and double-checked our voucher before leaving Luciana’s place. Once on the metro, it was a short ride to the Coliseum. Vouchers in hand, we once again experienced the smug delight of passing the line of those who waited for hours, four deep, to buy tickets at the door. The steps leading to the upper levels of the Coliseum are steep, a challenge to my titanium knees, but I was too proud to take advantage of the elevator. When Gauss and I reached the second level, the sheer size and age of the place took our breath away. Gauss likes to picture how the bui...
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