the pieces of my life

This morning, for some reason, I woke early and decided to go for a run on this little island of Isabella. I took a right out of the hotel and figured I’d find something. I brought along my trusty phone in case I wanted pics. Glad I did. I’m guessing I ran about three miles but the run took almost an hour as I kept stopping to ooh and ahh.

The sunrise was lovely.

Then I ran past this colorful cemetery.

I peeked in on the organic (referring to the materials; not a statement about pesticides) beach.

Of course the cacti must be admired.

As I was heading down to La Playita, I was stopped by these two characters. Though I know they’re harmless, I was wary of going around them so I took it as a sign that I should head back.

Well played, iguanas, well played. From here, I’m off to hike a volcano. But first I must choose which child to sacrifice once atop. At this point, it could be either one….

Today I kayaked with sea lions, swam with sharks, and hiked around the crater of an old volcano. I can’t remember the last time I was so tired. The Galapagos will wear you out. How was your day?

Ah, just one quick day in the capital city before we’re off again!

When I was a kid, there was a joke I liked. My best friend’s name was Charlie (and I was jealous because she had a cool perfume named for her and she could be a Charlie girl; the name Jennifer sucked even in the ’70s). When Charlie wasn’t around, I’d say, “Charlie and I know everything in the world. Ask me anything.” Then when a question was asked, if I didn’t know the answer, I’d say, “Oh that’s one of the ones Charlie knows.”

When I tried it on my father, he asked me, “What is the capital of Ecuador?” Of course in those ancient times before the era of Google, I didn’t know it. But he remembered the joke a few days later, and he thought he was oh-so clever when Charlie came over, and he asked her what the capital of Ecuador is. She didn’t know it, either. My father lorded that one over me for many years. And, on countless occasions, when I didn’t know something, he’d say, “Well, Charlie must know that one.”

The one thing that came of all this (besides the emotional damage that comes from a father trying to outsmart his 2nd grade daughter) is since the age of seven, I’ve had the capital of Ecuador burned into my brain.

Who knew I’d ever put it to use! And my kids, when asked, won’t have the humiliation of ignorance as they won’t hesitate to answer the question of the capital of Ecuador.

Welcome to Quito, folks! (Now please don’t ask me to name any other South American capitals!)

Now that I’ve spent some time in Italy, I come to one major conclusion about the difference between me and the Italians: I pee much slower–or stiller–than they do. The bathrooms have lights that are either on timers or motion detectors, and I have yet to pee in one of them when the lights didn’t shut off mid-pee. Important stuff, I know.

We’ve long left Rome, which means I have no more trite expressions to use (when in Rome, do as the Romans… and leave Rome. Oh, look! I had one left!).

In Florence, one morning at the Mercato Centrale had my boy deciding to become a vegetarian. I’m pretty sure it was the pig testicles that did him in. The brains, didn’t help.

When his sister pointed out that he hates veggies, and would therefore be a breadatarian, he relented and decided he’d merely go kosher. I asked him to wait till as got home, as he’s living on salami and bread here. “That’s not beef?” he asked with incredulity. No, my friend, it is not. He agreed to wait till we returned home.

In the meantime, we’ve left my parents and sister to fend for themselves and we are now eating–I mean, touring–through Tuscany on our own. Today, we had an amazing lunch at an agritourismo, where we had an exquisite fried pecorino cheese and a lovely sampling of three local wines. I will be dreaming of that cheese…

What else have we done? Been to the Uffizi, the Academia, the Bargello.

Learned to make pasta.

Visited a monastery.

And eaten. Did I mention I’ve eaten a bit?

Okay, back to the tough life. Let’s see if, for once, I can beat the light timer! Ciao!

Why did you people let me eat so much?

Headed back from dinner, just me and Adam as my folks and the Tweedle Twirp were staying with the kids, we were pleasantly surprised by an operatic concert at the Spanish Steps. A calming end to a day of two whiny, tired kids.

At lunch, Pie was flagging. It’s hot, and to be honest, we had just walked approximately two miles, with pit stops only to see a few Caravaggios in a church. She was beat.

“I can take you back to the apartment,” I told her.

“I’m so tired. I can’t walk any more,” she replied.

“That’s fine,” I said. “We can save our shopping for Florence.”

“Shopping?” she said. “Oh, I think I can shop!”

Gee, thanks. Sure enough, she rallied. Luckily she’s happy with window shopping as we didn’t actually buy anything.

Pie, Tweeds, and I wandered as an exhausted Doodles vegged in the apartment. I can’t keep my daughter and my sister straight. Their names are as different as, well, as different as Pie and Tweeds. But I’ve given up. Now when I call out a name, I just append it. “Pie!” I yell before I realize I’m calling out the wrong name. “I mean Big Pie!” Sometimes I end up with Little Tweeds.

Tweeds (the big one), Adam, and I went to the Bone Church, which is one of the oddest, coolest sights in town. It may have been my favorite place in Rome, though I may not be the best judge, considering that I’m not a huge fan of ancient art. I know. I’m in the wrong town.

But you don’t care about that. You want to know the important stuff. Like what I ate. So today was: yogurt, caffe latte, deep fried zucchini and anchovies, mixed bruschetta, spaghetti carbonara, red wine, ginger cinnamon gelato, basil gelato, glass of red wine, mixed antipasto plate, rigatoni all’amatriciana, half a bottle of red wine, strawberries with whipped cream, and limocello.

Roly Poly is off to bed. Tomorrow, we take on Florence. Hope Florence has prepped the chefs! I’m still eating!

I’ve wanted to blog. Really I have. But blogging means putting down my fork, and I can’t quite seem to loosen my grip long enough to type. If I were going to sum up the trip so far, it would have to be Roly Poly Roma.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m here with my kids, my husband, my parents, and my sister. We’ve managed to do a bit. We’ve visited a few famous places, like the Trevi Fountain.

Toured the Colosseum.

Visited Ostia Antica.

Saw the Vatican.

And miscellaneous other things, like checked out the Borghese Gallery, the Jewish museum, the Castle of St. Angelo, the Parthenon, and so on.

But it all pales in comparison to the eating. The gelato. The fried artichokes. The pizza.The wine. The pasta. The pasta. The pasta. Did I mention the pasta?

Ah. Roly Poly Roma. Happy. Happy. Just don’t expect me to put down the fork.

(Note: All travel posts are typed on the iPhone, so typos may abound.)

Rome around the world! (So maybe that’s not what the B52s meant, but I’m always happy to employ a good homophone to get my point across.)

The land of espresso, gelato, and pasta! Italy, you have met your match. Let the eating begin!

On the plane, ready to take off for….