Maui -- Day 2 6/7/12

It’s strange.  As warm as it is in the afternoon, it cools down to a reasonable temp overnight.  There’s no air conditioning on in the room, just a fan over the king size bed.  That and keeping the sliding glass door open are more than enough to keep me cool (it’s a definite plus being on the 4^th floor).  And I love hearing the birds in the morning, loud as they may be.

Hawaii does not recognize Daylight Savings Time.  So when it’s usually five hours behind EST, over the summer it’s actually six hours behind.   Total body clock time screw.  When you’re down at 8:00 that means you’re up at about 5:30 a.m.  I remembered this from my last trip so I wasn’t surprised.  I’d already taken a shower after getting in from the airport so today it’s get dressed and get out the door. 

I take a walk around to get the lay of the land.  There are plenty of other early risers walking and jogging along the beach and sidewalk.  The bike lane is also busy.  In walking distance from the hotel there’s a Mexican restaurant and deli, and the little strip mall housing Subway also has a few souvenir stores and a Denny’s.  The ABC store that was all over Honolulu is here as well.  I picked up a beach towel, a bamboo beach mat, and a bag to put it in for beach trips.  I also notice the gas station just outside of the ABC.  $4.86 for regular!  No wonder so many people walk in this town! 

I crossed to the beach to find the trail that leads from Kama’ole II to Kama’ole III.  It’s a nice trail that winds over a grassy ridge overlooking the water.  There are benches and picnic areas, BBQ pits and restrooms along with a playground and a skateboarding ramp.  Lots of people are out walking their dogs or little kids in strollers. 

All the walking has made me hungry and by 7:00 more of the restaurants are now open.  I find a Starbucks (because of course there is one) so I can use the $5 gift card I got for Christmas and get a chicken wrap and a Chai Tea Latte (love those).  I have a nice leisurely breakfast on the patio before going back to the hotel for the car.

My trusty guidebook, Maui Revealed, says that the town of Lahaina is a must see.  Okay, I can do some driving – in spite of the price of gas. 

The one thing I immediately notice about driving in Maui is that everything is laid back.  The speed limit on

S. Kihei

is 20 mph to accommodate all the foot traffic to the beach.  There are lights and stores everywhere so you also have to watch for merging traffic.  But, being in vacation mode, it really isn’t a bother to stop so often.  People are very polite and there are no honking horns trying to move traffic along.  This attitude continues even on the isolated road to Lahaina.

Once off S. Kihei, there are a few beach spots on the side of the road before there’s nothing but lots and lots of sugar cane.  The first city you hit is Ma’alaea, a one-light harbor town I decide to explore later.  Then it’s up the far side of a mountain with signs for falling rocks on either side of the road.  You can see the nets draped over the rock piles to try to keep them off the road.  Past those, the road continues upward and the view to the left is revealed.  Pure seaside driving with a great view of the mountain further out.  There’s a scenic lookout where you can park and take pictures but I don’t stop.  What’s really trippy to me is that there is a bike lane all the way up this steep windy road that doesn’t end until just before the short tunnel near the top.  And yes, there were bikers going up that hill.  Now that’s stamina for you.

Getting closer to Lahaina, the seaside view gets swallowed up by trees, then by houses.  I missed the turn into the commercial district and had to turn around, finding my way to

Front St.

which is the main drag.  I passed by the Old Lahaina Center where one of the best luaus on Hawaii is held.  I missed out on the luau thing my last trip and I’d love to do this one but the thought of traveling down that mountain at night … not so much.

I find a paid parking lot and get out on foot.  Located right next to the shore, Lahaina is full of restaurants, souvenir and clothing shops, galleries, jewelry stores, and theatres.  There’s so much to see and do and so many ways for Maui to spend all your money.  And I spent plenty on souvenirs and in the Lush store.  I was looking for the Hard Rock because I collect the t-shirts but I missed it.  Didn’t get to the pier either.  I would have to come back.  Even though the guidebook said that many of the best restaurants were in Lahaina, I wasn’t actually hungry.  I did get some pistachio gelato (in remembrance of the last time I had some in Rome) and ate while continuing to walk around.

With my two hours of parking up, I was on the way back to Kihei for food and beach time.  I ditched the car, put my bathing suit on under my clothes, and walked to nearby Café O’Lei.  I ordered a macadamia nut encrusted chicken sandwich with salad at the bar.  While I waited I chatted with the man sitting near me.  He looked like the typical haole (white man) who’s been in Hawaii for a while; long graying hair in a ponytail, deeply tanned, and always smiling.  He asked where I was from then told me that he had lived in Georgia for several years (Wow! Two former Georgians in two days.).  I asked what was becoming my standard question; is Maui better?  He said that the locals have a saying that means nothing is better than Maui.  Hmm.

Grabbed my sandwich and headed to Kama’ole.  The sandwich was yummy.  It hit the spot and you can’t beat the view.  I allowed a few short minutes of digestion before climbing into the surf.  This part of Maui gets pretty windy as the day progresses so I knew I’d have to keep it short.  But short turned out to be more than enough.

The water was still cold at first, then gets warmer.  I love standing in the waves and once again just staring at the sea.  Nice.  Stayed in for a while but the time change was getting to me.  Before I ended up swallowing a gallon of sea water while yawning, I went back to lie down and plan my next move with my trusty guidebook.

So many options.  There’s biking, hiking, beach-hopping, driving the road to Hana (a big deal here), windsurfing, regular surfing, stand up paddle surfing (see a theme here?), and tons of other stuff.  I’ve always wanted to get dive certified and Maui is a great place to learn.  But here’s the thing.  I had read about all these activities before the trip and was excited to try everything but hesitant to book anything.  I found that I just didn’t want to be tied to a schedule of any kind.  I have never liked group activities and I didn’t want to struggle with a slow learning curve with anything.  I didn’t want to be running from one activity to the next.  I just wanted to take my vacation nice and slow and see how it would develop. 

The one thing I hate about salt water is how badly it dries my skin.  The longer I laid out the ashier my skin got.  Yuck.  I decided to skip this sunset and get back to the hotel to shower and slather my ashy skin with lotion.  It was my plan to get dressed and go back out for some dinner but boy does the bed look inviting.  Ended up half-comatose in front of the TV for a while before finally calling it a night. 

Then, not an hour after turning in (around 8:00) The Party Girlz!^© moved in next door.  I instantly dubbed them that because they were so excited! To be in Maui!  On vacation!  They were very loudly talking to each other, slamming doors and laughing/screaming in the hallway.  It never fails.  If there is an idiot within a two mile radius I will definitely end up living/rooming near them.  It’s just my luck.

I spent most of the night thinking they would settle down any minute now but it took a really long time.  Then they were out on the balcony which shares a wall with mine.  Then one of their phones kept going off every few minutes.  Just what I needed on my vacation.

Maui -- Day 1 6/6/12

I’ve wanted to go back to Hawaii since – scratch that.  I never wanted to leave Hawaii when I visited Oahu five years ago.  Lying on a beach is my happy place and Hawaii = beach = J!  So the decision on where to go for vacation was a simple one this year – so simple the choice was made sometime last year.  Since I didn’t get a chance to island hop to Maui in 2007 it was finally time to visit this island.

The timing was a little interesting for this trip.  Usually I try to arrange my trips in April around my birthday which coincides perfectly with tax refund and my work bonus.  But I knew from past experience that Hawaii water in April is too cold for comfort.  So this year I pushed the trip back to June.  It meant I had to have a staycation for the week of my birthday – not ideal but at least I took some well-needed time off.

Then there were other issues on the home front.  My eldest cat Jonah was starting to show his age.  In the past year he’d started having these strange sneezing fits where he’d bat at his nose and make it bleed.  This led to him completely ruining his nose and making his breathing labored.  Couple that with some weight loss and I had to come to terms with the fact that he was indeed very old and wouldn’t be around much longer.  One of the sucky parts about being a pet owner, I know, but it didn’t make the decision to have him put down in May any easier.  Now it’s just me and Beata staring at each other – the first time I‘ve had a single animal in my house for 16 years.

And it looks like we’ll be staring at each other in this house for a while.  I’ve been trying to sell since 2007, first with a realtor for 6 months then with Buy Owner with zero luck.  Then I found I was upside down on my mortgage.  Then Buy Owner went bankrupt.  Sigh.  But it looks like the housing market is starting to get better.  There are new townhouses being built in my community and I started to think that maybe escape was in sight.  I began to freshen up the interior paint and make minor repairs in the hopes that I could have the house shown while I was away.  I finally decided to scrap the Buy Owner listing and contact a realtor again … who promptly told me that unless I could bring at least $10,000 to the table there was no way I would be able to ask enough to pay off my mortgage.  Maybe in another 2 years …

So.  Yeah.  It was time for a change of scenery.

I got a package deal on expedia.com for hotel, flight, and car rental.  The Purrfect Nanny would once again be sending a sitter to the house to look after the cat.  One of the benefits to moving to the new work location was that it's not far from Sandy Springs MARTA station and, with advanced notice, I could leave the car in the work parking garage.  Cool.  More money to spend in Maui.  I had booked a condo for six nights with the intention of cooking my own food to save even more money.

45 minutes on MARTA, an incredibly long line for security (though it moved pretty steadily), and I just make it to the gate a few minutes before boarding my 8:55 a.m. flight.  I wedged myself into a very cramped seat for the 2 hour flight to DFW.  No food served on the flight so I scrounged around the Dallas airport and found a McDonalds.  $7 for a so called combo chicken nugget meal and you don’t get any fries?  What the --?

On to the next flight, an 8 hour one from Dallas to Maui (Kahului).  Ended up next to a woman named Colleen who was returning home to Maui after visiting her daughter.  She was a pastor’s wife travelling with her husband back to her other daughter who had just gone through surgery to remove gall stones.  She’s telling me this all in a rush then suddenly asks my age.  I’m surprised but tell her that I’m 41.  I then got promptly hit with her Sudoku book for daring to go to Maui by myself.  Could someone please tell me why I keep meeting women who want to mother me despite my advancing age?  Why is it that on all the plane trips I’ve taken only once have I met a hot guy?  What’s up with that?

She later apologized for asking my age (but not for the hit) and we spent the rest of trip in relative silence.  For that I was grateful.  I’m not too fond of the overly-chatty.   I did wonder if this was the reason why she wasn’t sitting next to her husband.

Eight hours is about my limit for a flight.  Any longer than that and I risk going stir crazy and this flight was pushing me to the brink.  Didn’t help that I was incredibly cramped and had a hard time falling asleep.  I think I preferred my last trip to Hawaii where I had two layovers instead of one.  They make the trip longer but at least I get to get up and stretch my legs.

But the one thing that was better on this trip over the last -- I didn’t get pressure sickness!  Yay!  On two separate trips over the West Coast (once on the way to California and once coming back from Hawaii) I’ve felt extremely off.  Not vomit-ill, more dizzy and flushed, but still bad.  The first time it happened, I fainted in the aisle  and had to be taken off the plane in a wheelchair.  Not the memory I wanted from my first trip to Cali.  The second time this spell hit me, I recognized the symptoms and didn’t even try to stand up for fear of falling down.  But this trip … nothing.  Maybe it had something to do with flying to Hawaii out of Texas instead of Cali.  I don’t know but I was thrilled that the flight was uneventful.

And then, Maui.  It was a gorgeous afternoon and very hot, even moreso to me because the plane was absolutely freezing.  So glad I brought a jacket as recommended by Amanda and Chere for my possible biking trip down Haleakala.  I had to shed it quickly once off the plane while lugging my gear to the shuttle that would take me to the Alamo office.  The guy who checked me in saw my license and told me that he used to live in Gwinnett.  He was working for Verizon and they transferred him out here.  That job ended and he decided to stay.  Better here, I asked.  Uh, yeah.

Outside again, a pretty native woman checked my paperwork and guided me to the three economy cars at the end of the lot.  I could pick whichever one I wanted, keys were already in them.  They were all 4-door sedans; one brown, one silver and one red.  Guess which one I took.  What can I say?  If I can’t afford to rent a convertible or a 4WD jeep, a red sedan is the next best thing.

Exiting the lot proved a little tricky, not because of traffic but because of chickens.  There were three exit lanes and two were occupied.  The third was clearing up but the aforementioned wild chickens were blocking the way.  The attendant waved me forward, assuring me that the birds would move.  I told her I hoped so; I just got this car I don’t want to have ‘ran over some chickens’ be my first Maui memory.  She tells me not to worry, we could just eat any that got squashed.  No thanks, I told her, couldn’t bear the thought of cleaning it.  She agreed, marked down what car I’d taken, and wished me a good trip.

I had printed out directions to the hotel from MapQuest before leaving but they turned out to be much more complicated than they needed to be.  It was pretty simple getting out of the airport and on the road to Kihei.  I passed a lot of stores and businesses on the way out of Kahului, making a note to come back later and check them out.  Then I turned out of the city and onto the roughly ten mile road to Kihei.

I just had to giggle.  Finally out of that plane, in my zippy red car, passing mountains and fields of sugar cane , on my way to the beach.  Awesome.  I missed my turn off to

S Kihei Rd

but quickly realized my error and turned around.  I wasn’t even sure I was on the right track as the beginning of S Kihei is a bunch of residences and a couple of larger hotels.  And then I spot my first beach on the right hand side.  It’s rocky and not the most inviting but things get better. 

I passed a bunch more hotels and condos, still trying to find the Aston Maui Banyan.  It’s just when I’m passing the best beaches I’ve seen so far that I see the hotel sign on the left.  Even though I didn’t plan it, my hotel is right across the street from Kama’ole Beach II.

The hotel itself was nice.  Several buildings housing both residents and renters, two pools, a parking garage, and even a movie rental kiosk in the office.  My room unfortunately didn’t have a kitchen like I’d hoped (there was a door leading to an adjoining room and I think the kitchen was in there) but it was a minor thing.  I unpacked and got changed as quickly as I could then went straight to the beach.

Ahh.  Kama’ole.  My guidebook says that this is one of the best beaches on the island and I have to agree.  Having it be in walking distance makes it even better.  The beach is actually split into 3 separate beaches divided by outcroppings of black lava rock.  I love watching the water splash against the rocks, love the feel of warm sand under my feet.   The water is initially very cold but I got used to it.

Just walking along the beach and staring at the water is good for me.  I don’t even feel like a complete dork for just standing and staring – there are plenty of other people doing the exact same thing.  The power of the ocean …

Beyond hungry (I’d slept right through the overpriced boxed meal on the plane) I walked to the nearby Subway for a sandwich.  Then it was back to the beach to join the growing crowd of people coming just to watch the sunset.  Can you blame them?

The long trip, the time change and all the excitement meant that I got to bed early like around 8:00.  There’d be plenty of time to explore tomorrow.

Rome -- 4/15/11 Wrap Up

Up early on the last day. My flight leaves at 11:50 and the bus to the airport arrives around 8:50. I make sure to pack the last of my stuff before going down for breakfast.

After the meal I go upstairs to get my stuff but my card key doesn’t work. Huh? I realize that I’m checking out today but the room doesn’t have to be vacated until noon and it’s not even 9:00. No matter. There just happens to be a maid down the hall who is kind enough to let me in with her key. I quickly gather my stuff and bring it to the front desk to check out.

Part of check-out in an EU country is that you have to pay a tax upon leaving. I knew this beforehand so I was ready with 48 euros (12 for each night). Turns out it’s just 12 euros total. Cool. The restaurant bill was also on the final bill (I knew it would be) and was just another 16 euros.

I left the bags by the desk and figure I’d do one last look around the neighborhood before the bus arrives. The day is a little overcast but not bad. Taking a left out of the hotel, I spot yet another street fair. I do a quick look through (leather jackets for 48 euros? Hmm) then head back to the hotel.

Just as I round the corner, a man is staring at me. He calls my name and I can see the bus parked in front of the hotel. Thinking that it was still only around 8:15, I thought he was early.

Nope.

Turns out I was late! Again! How is that possible? It was that fricking alarm clock again! HOW?!?! One of the first things I did when I got back on Wednesday was set that clock ahead by an hour so I knew it was right. Upon further reading the instructions, I found out that the clock is German and hooked into some kind of satellite. Every morning at around 2:00 it taps into that satellite for the correct time. It decided that it liked to be set for an hour earlier than Rome time (though oddly enough, I set it to the correct time in GA and it’s been right ever since).

Now I’m annoyed. I hate being late. As I sit on the bus, I keep checking the clocks on the street to confirm that it is indeed 9:15. I just hope I didn’t make anyone late for their flights.

The driver is yet another incredibly efficient navigator of Roman streets. We make two more pick-ups, one of them in an impossibly narrow little back alley, and then he swiftly gets us to the airport.

Fiumincino is way too crowded for a Friday morning. I make it to the gate, wonder for a minute if I have to check in or not, then dodge and weave all the other passengers. Really annoyed now.

An attendant tells me I don’t have to wait in line to be checked, then when I go to board I get stopped anyway. The lady asks me where I’m coming from (?). Uh, Rome. Isn’t that where we are? She does a quick check then waves me through. I walk right past the two men checking through luggage and take the escalator down to the flight.

This flight, unlike my flight in, is packed to the gills. First the captain says we’ll take off in 30 minutes, then he ups it to an hour. Oy. Like the flight isn’t already long enough.

When we finally do get into the air, it doesn’t take long for the guy in front of me to decide that the plane is his personal bedroom. He puts his seat back, instantly crushing my legs. He promptly ignores me and the lovely Italian man next to me as we try to get him to put the sit back up. Now I’m annoyed and in some pain.

I try to make the best of it but it is a very long flight. The man next to me gets up frequently, allowing me a chance to stretch my legs. At one point, when rude guy in front of me gets up because his tray table doesn't work, the Italian man actually pushes the button on rude guy’s chair to let the seat back up. Such a nice gesture almost restores my faith in humanity (not that I ever really had any). The relief on my knees doesn’t last long though when rude guy returns to his seat and once again reclines in it. Sigh.

The attendants serve an extra snack at some point since the 10 hour flight ends up being 11 hours because of the delay (a nice touch especially since they don’t charge for it). This plane has the individual screens on the backs of the seats with the remote so you can choose what to watch. There is no sleeping for me – too uncomfortable and it’s still daylight. I end up watching Red again (like that flick) and almost get through The Princess and the Frog when the landing procedure turns the movie off (daggummit!).

We finally get to Philly. Don't think I've been to this airport either. I like the rocking chairs spread around the airport. After picking up a Philly t-shirt, I chill in one for a while before I head to the gate for my connecting flight to ATL.

The lady sitting next to me starts scaring me about the flight, telling me about the storms that have been running throught Atlanta over the past few days and that our flight will probably be delayed or even cancelled. I was getting nervous espeically since the airport hadn't bothered to update their signage for the flight. I'm already tired, it's late, and I really don't want to get stranded in Philly. To my relief, we board on schedule and get out of there without incident.

The flight is mercifully brief with no knee-crushing or turbulence. We land and I head through Customs. Not too bad and I’m again grateful that I didn’t check any luggage. I thought I might get grief for the olive oil and vinegar I’d bought as well as the limoncello and the rose that Mano gave me. No big though. I have to stop at the animal and agricultural booth but after a brief search they clear me through.

Going through Security is almost pleasant – well, as pleasant as a strange woman groping you can be. Since I’d once again set off the metal detectors, I have to endure yet another search. The woman is very nice and tells me everything she’s about to do before she does it. I had already told her beforehand that I had bobby pins in my hair and was wearing an underwire bra so she knew what she was looking for. I had to thank her for her courtesy as Lord knows I’ve been groped by rude airport security in the past.

I take MARTA back to my car and wearily drive home. It is always good to come home from travel to see that the house is still standing. I unpack a little before collapsing into an exhausted sleep.

In the time since my return, I found that the cats fared well. They were also nice enough to wait until I returned to start vomiting on my newly shampooed carpet (thanks guys!). My left shin was swollen and painful for days after the trip (still don’t know what that’s about) and it took me at least a week to get my body clock back in line. I kept wanting to go to bed about two hours after getting home from work. Never experienced that kind of reverse jet lag before but I prefer being off-kilter at home rather than overseas.

Lessons learned from Rome trip:

1. Always bring a watch.



2. Always have all maps at the ready for urban hiking. Study them thoroughly before going out.



3. I must make better accommodations for my legs, particularly on those long transcontinental flights. I already know that nothing is designed for me so I need to either save up enough money for first class or at the very least arrange to sit in the first row of coach. I really can’t tolerate anyone else reclining in my lap or carelessly crushing my knees. No more leaving things to chance.



4. Don’t be afraid of the Metro. Rome is one of many cities that has a great public transport system. There is no shame in being a bus-riding tourist.



5. Even for international flights, check-in is remarkably easy so long as you don’t check any luggage (standard rule for European travel: take half the clothes and twice the money).



6. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, when touring the Colosseum, take the elevator. Seriously.

So that’s it. If you’ve managed to get through my entire tome you know why I titled this trip ‘The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Rome is amazing and awe-inspiring and exhausting and confusing. I would definitely recommend making the journey. I might go back myself (after a really long rest).

Hope you enjoyed the blog. Thanks for your attention.

Rome -- 4/14/11

Something wakes me at around 6 am, some kind of banging or construction. No matter. I’m not on a schedule today so I can take my time getting up.

I am not a tour person. Even though tours are very educational and I end up seeing things I may not have seen on my own, I would much rather be on my own time going where I want to go. Might mean I get lost along the way but that’s just part of the experience.

I get dressed, twist up my hair (no more flyaways), and pack my backpack for the day. Over another yummy breakfast of eggs, pears, and angry coffee, I plot my course for the day and head out. I want to hit the Spanish Steps first then maybe attempt to go back to Vatican City.

Thank goodness it’s nice and sunny after yesterday’s yuckiness. I’m walking along Via Septtembre when I notice there are a lot of politzia milling around. I get closer to a major intersection and I can hear a steady siren coming from the distance. Some kind of procession is coming – the pope maybe? Or some political figure? I wait around for a while to try and see something but I never do. Shrugging, I keep it moving.

Making the usual Roman curves, I finally find Via Sistina and make a right. The road ends in a circular area full of cars. Once I get past them and some vendors selling paintings, I see some steps leading down. I make it to the first landing when it hits me: I’d made it to the Spanish Steps without getting lost! Woo hoo! Woo hoo! Almost had to pat myself on the back!

The stairs are wet so I can’t sit down like I want. Instead I take some pictures then very carefully make my way down the steps (because old, uneven marble + water + me = trip to Roman E.R.) to explore the Piazza del Spagna.

Walking down one of the streets leading away from the piazza I spot a Lush store. I’d heard of these all natural hair and beauty products online but had never seen them up close. It’s a great store with lots of things to sniff and enjoy though not to read – all of packaging of the British-made products in this store are in Italian. Fortunately the sales clerk speaks English and is able to guide me around. I pay way too much for a seaweed shampoo bar, a bath bomb (for that evening’s bath) and a facial mask that needs to be refrigerated.

I follow this street out to Via del Corso. I know this street though not this section of it. I follow it to the end and discover yet another large oval-shaped meeting area named the Piazza del Popolo. With the standard fountain in the middle, there are two more fountains on either end with benches lining the perimeter.
This is by far my favorite piazza. It’s big enough to be crowded and yet still have areas on each end that are practically empty. There is a woman playing the cello beside the fountain (Frank Sinatra is very big here) and a couple of living statues aimed at each of the entrances (one is dressed like the Statue of Liberty and the other is a pharaoh I think). Tourists and locals alike are passing through (along with the occasional car or horse-drawn buggy), there are pigeons everywhere, and it’s a sunny spring morning. I sit for a while and write out my postcards. After all the hustle and bustle of the rest of the city, it is very nice to just be able to sit and enjoy the view.

But, this is still Rome. I had to know the peace wouldn’t last forever. Out of the corner of my eye I see someone approaching my bench. There is no reason for this; I don’t know anyone here and there are plenty of other benches on which to sit. The guy hands me a rose and introduces himself as Mano. As I’m fishing out some money (way too much in my opinion) he ties a string around my wrist and strikes up a conversation.

He tells me he’s from Bangladesh and I tell him I’m from the states. He knew a woman from California who used to come to this piazza and talk to him before she returned to the states to marry and divorce. He asks where my husband is. I tell him I don’t have one and he asks why. “No one’s asked me, it doesn’t work that way in my world.” He just can’t understand it then tells me I should get an Italian boyfriend. Just look around and pick one (now why didn’t I think of that?). Then he starts actively hitting on me saying he could come back to America with me. It was then I decided that I should get on that Italian boyfriend search immediately. I wish him good luck and head back towards the Spanish Steps. (Note to self: I really need to learn to lie when I get the rare question about my marital status – it would save me a lot of time.)

By this time the Piazza del Spagna and the Steps are crazy with tourists. I wade my way through them back up the steps and down Via Sistina only to run into a problem. The politizia have blocked the street off with vans. It’s bad enough that cars can’t get through but they’re not even letting pedestrians through. What’s up with that? We’re all just milling around on both sides of the barricade (folks trying to get to the Spanish Steps are really screwed if they don’t know Rome well enough to find an alternate route) until I give up and head back down Via Sistina. Never did see what all the fuss was about.

I pass by a shop called Blue Ice. It’s a small colorful shop full of pastries and yes, more gelato. It is time. I get a small cup of pistachio and go back to the Steps. I park myself and happily enjoy my treat while watching the people float by.

People-watching is always fun in foreign countries. In a single day you can hear accents and languages from all over the world; German, British, Indian, and some I can’t even recognize. With the tourists out in force, the vendors and beggars are not far behind. I see many more ‘Manos’ walking around with strings and roses. I’ve placed mine in the headphone hole in my backpack. It seems to ward off any of the others from approaching me (yay!). The other vendors are selling everything from eyeglasses to purses to these nifty jelly-like toys that go splat when you throw them on the ground.

I finish my gelato and take a moment to plot an alternate rout to the hotel. Then it’s back down the steps and down Via del Condotti. Here in one concentrated section is where all the really chi-chi shops are located; Bulgari, Ferregamo, Jimmy Choo’s, Hermes … the list goes on and on. I feel like I have to be a millionaire just to walk down this street. At the very end where Condotti meets Via del Corso lies a very large Fendi store. I love Fendi so I have to press my face against the glass before moving on. No sense in going in – I’ve already spent way too much on this vacation and I don’t need a gorgeous Italian bag tempting me.

Thanks to having been lost on these roads before, I actually know where I’m going. It’s a long walk to the hotel but I make it back just as the sky is getting darker. I drop my stuff off and head back out but I can see that it’s getting colder and darker. Not to mention the fact that I’m really tired by this time and can’t even fathom making it all the way to the Vatican on foot. I make a stamp run then head back to the room.

The rest turned out to be a long one and well-needed. I read and pack my clothes for my flight tomorrow until my 8:00 reservation for dinner at the restaurant downstairs.

The dinner menu is a multi-course affair. There is no way I can eat that much so I order a nice fettuccini Bolognese (good) and have a bite of a chocolate ricotta cheesecake (not so much). Then it’s bath time.

Despite the lovely bath bomb in the water, the bath isn’t as relaxing as I’d hoped. The phone rings while I’m in the tub. It is not normally my nature to run to a ringing phone and certainly not while wet. I ignore it but then not five minutes later it sounds like someone is in my room. Now I know I locked the door when I came in but I get up to check just in case. I suspect the call and the room invasion are because I left the restaurant without getting a check (the not-so-attentive waiter already had my room number so it’s not like they wouldn’t get their grip). Turns out that a lost guest had tried my door. He apologizes when I spot him in the hall and I quickly return to the tub. So much for relaxing.

I finish as much packing as I can, set the alarm and it’s out for the night.

Rome -- 4/13/11

Bad start to the day.

Really, really bad start to the day.

I don’t normally wear a watch and I completely forgot to bring one. I was thinking that I could use my cell phone as a clock but there’s no signal in Italy (No, I can’t hear you now!). The room had no clock except for the one on the TV. That clock would only display when the lights were on and the TV had been turned on. Not helpful. Knowing all this, I made sure to buy an alarm clock the previous day. And set it by the TV clock.

Big mistake.

That clock was an hour behind. And so was I.

I woke at 5:37 (really 6:37). Figuring I had some time, I just lay there for a while. Less than ten minutes later the phone rings. It’s the front desk telling me that the tour bus is waiting downstairs. Oh crap.

I nearly kill myself to get ready in record time and run downstairs. I get there and let the driver and the guide know I’d arrived and they still wander around confused. They refuse to believe that I’m the only one they need to pick up from the Art Deco. When they finally realize that it really is just me, we’re off.

Unlike my first two days in Rome, today day is overcast, windy, and cold. As my knees are being crushed against the bus seats, I realize that along with forgetting my jacket and umbrella (and oh yeah my Chapstick), that I’m in some amount of pain. The nightly soaking is doing wonders for my feet. They’re not the problem. My ankles and shins hurt. What’s that about? And, thanks to those steps at the Colosseum (seriously, just take the elevator!), my thighs are sore. Nice.

After picking up a few more passengers we head to the tour office where there’s more confusion. The bus picked up people going on several different tours and now we have to get sorted onto the correct buses to head out. It takes a while but I make it on the bus to Capri which also includes a tour group headed to Pompeii. We are greeted by a pretty Italian tour guide named Angelica who impresses me by speaking fluent Spanish, English, and French. She explains that the trip to Naples will take two hours (with a pit stop to a town called Cassino mid-way through) and that the Capri people will be let off at the ferry while the Pompeii people will stay on the bus.

By the time we reach Cassino, it is really starting to rain. While the other passengers get in line for snacks at the small truck-stop, I do some shopping. The gift shop is pretty extensive. Along with the usual postcards and stuff, there is a big display of glasswork and a vast selection of olive oils, pasta, and chocolate. And limoncello. Lots and lots of limoncello. Angelica had told us on the way over that Naples is where the special lemons are grown to produce this alcoholic brew so we would find it all over this part of the country. I bought some truffle infused olive oil and balsamic vinegar as planned for this trip.

Back on the bus, Angelica hands out headsets for the Pompeii people and stickers for all with the tour company’s name and phone number on them. She tells us that if anyone gets lost or separated from the group, they should dial the number and she would get with the guide of the tour to find the lost (but please don’t get lost because is costs her money).

First impression of Naples: it’s dirty and full of slums. Add that to the fact that the rain that had stopped during the trip was starting up again and I was getting very apprehensive. The bus stops at the pier to drop off the Capri people. Angelica hands us over to another tour guide, an older gentleman named Umberto, then gets back on the bus.

The 12 or so people in my tour group are left to wait while Umberto gets the ferry tickets. The group stays under the awning for a while before splintering off to visit the nearby café or wander the pier. I head over to a newsstand to reluctantly buy an umbrella. The very over-crowded little stand also sells plastic raincoats. I buy one of those instead and put it on just as it starts to pour outside. Since I don’t have a watch and I don’t know where the pier is, I end up slogging through the rain down to the far end of the pier looking for the group. They weren’t there so I slogged back to the awning – which is where I was supposed to be in the first place as the rest of the group has already gathered.

Okay. Let’s recap. I was late for the bus. I had to pay 7.5 euros for a cheap windbreaker when I had a jacket and an umbrella all nice and dry back at the hotel. I’m already cold and now my jeans are wet from the knees down (and there is nothing more disgusting than wearing wet denim). All I can say is:

This had better be the best freaking tour I’ve ever taken in my life.

After waiting in line in the now slacking off rain, we finally board the ferry. The seats are set up like a large airplane (wasn’t expecting that). With the cabin pretty full, we were on our way.

I already knew the wind was up but I was not expecting the water to be as choppy as it was. Not a good sign when the crew starts walking the aisles handing out plastic bags. When the waves first hit us, people were cheering but that didn’t last very long. Then the retching began. And of course it had to be the woman in the row behind me to start it. Others soon joined her, including the guy sitting two seats away from me. The young woman in front of me actually stood up and turned around to wave off a guy from barfing before she was also clutching plastic.

Personally, I enjoyed the waves. It was like being on an extended roller coaster ride. I couldn’t stop smiling as I watched the spray hit the windows. It just reminded me of how long it’s been since I’ve been on the open water. My lack of sea-sickness also lent further credence to my past-life-as-an-explorer theory. I vowed then and there that my next vacation had to be somewhere tropical. I would love to go back to Hawaii but really anywhere I can get wet will be good.

With more and more people barfing around us, the American woman next to me noted that this would be a long hour. I had to agree. My only concern was that all the noise and … uh … smells (eww!) would make me queasy. Praying that no one vomited on me, I buckled down and wished I’d brought my MP3 player.

And yeah, that was a long hour. By the time we could see the pier the rain had stopped. The woman who had started the vomit-fest was moaning quietly and chanting “Per favore! Per favore!” I was sitting next to the door so I was one of the first ones to jump up and get in line to leave. I’d taken off the raincoat for the ride and when I got up to put it on, I noticed a tear along the right shoulder. Now how did that happen? Oh well. It was still windy outside and it was all I had. I put it on as best as I could and left the ferry.

On the pier I thought I spotted Umberto’s umbrella as he raised it in the air but I soon lost sight of him as we hit the street. I then begin to nervously look around for any other member of the group. I can find not a one of them.

I did not want to be that special child; the one that you have to watch like a hawk so they don’t wonder off. But, here I am, on my 40^th birthday, wandering clueless on the pier of Capri. I’m walking up and down the street contemplating whether I should call the number taped on my shirt and wondering why I didn’t just stay in Rome when I finally spot the tour group. Oh everyone was so worried and Umberto joked that I must have found another tour I liked better. Ha. Ha. Can we just get on the bus?

Our group is one of at least three tour groups that were on the same ferry. We all mingle together, making me feel lost again, until we board our respective busses. Then we head up this narrow windy road to another bus stop. Umberto leads us to the town square and gives us an hour of free time before we are to meet again in front of a little shop called Limoncello.

Now that the panic of being lost is over, I can actually appreciate how gorgeous Capri really is. The small island only has about 20,000 full-time residents. It has a very small town feel yet you still see some Italian excess in the high-end shops that are all around. I’m really confused as to why one would need a Balenciaga gown on such a small island but whatever. Business must be good because I see more than one new shop under construction. Tourism is obviously very big here as there are hotels, restaurants, and lots of souvenir shops everywhere.

With no watch, I rely on the watches displayed in a store window to keep track of the time. The rip in the rain jacket is steadily getting bigger and bigger and with the wind up, it’s all I can do to keep the right sleeve attached. With my hair blowing all over the place (no time to twist it up as I’d planned to do this morning), I look like a wild-haired vagrant set loose on the streets.

The shop called Limoncello is very prettily done up in yellow and green. Umberto encourages me to join the others in getting a free sample of the island’s most famed product. The lady behind the counter offers me a cold shot. Limoncello, if you’ve never had it, is like lemonade on steroids. It is a very strong liqueur that clears your sinuses with some serious lemon action. I buy a couple of bottles as souvenirs for others but I think I’ll stick to being a teetotaler.

We board another bus to go higher up the mountain. You need skills to drive in Rome. Capri roads take driving to a whole new level. The streets here are so treacherous you really have to have nerves of steel. There are places up this road where we are literally hugging the curve on the edge of a cliff. Then another bus will pass by so closely we can practically high-five the other passengers. I still don’t know why there aren’t bodies piled up on the side of the roads.

We make it up the mountain and park. Umberto leads us to the restaurant where we’ll have lunch. It’s a small place and the seats are really close together. The lunch is included with the tour (except for drinks) and is made up of a pasta course, salad and meat (pork) or fish, and dessert. I have this almost jelly-like fish which is pretty good although there is way too much of it for me. I only finish half the fish and take a few bites of the chocolate cake before I’m ready to leave.

I go to put on the dreaded rain coat again when I notice that another tear has started up the other sleeve. That’s it. I shove it into my bags and immediately go off in search of the first shop I can find that sells outerwear. The shop I spot is tucked away in a corner with the owner standing out front. She greets me and helps me into a blue zippered sweatshirt. It fits amazingly well (even the sleeves are long enough and that never happens for me) and I ask the damages. At this point I don’t really care what it costs or even what it looks like. It’s hooded and warm which is just what I’m looking for. I happily pay her 25 euros and go off to explore further.

Shops abound up here as well along with a museum and some kind of spa. I stumble on a sunken area with three shops huddled together. Two of the shops have the usual t-shirts and small souvenir knick-knacks. But the first shop is full of hand-painted pottery and interesting candles. I go to look at the candles shaped like shells, figures, and food and the shop owner comes over to help. She tells me that everything is made by her and her husband and I can tell she takes great pride in that. I’m a craft person myself so I like to support others. I decide to buy a nifty candle shaped like a slice of cake with fruit on it when I spot the paintings along the back wall. Amidst all the bright sunny paintings of Capri, this 5 x 7 one of the caves underneath the island really stands out. She tells me that the caves are now closed so there’s no chance for me to see them for myself.

Now I’m not normally an art aficionado. I can admire artwork and then walk away (it helps that I’m cheap). But I love this piece. She tells me the price is 59 euros with the frame and 39 without. So why not? It is my birthday.

Her husband comes out from the back and I compliment him on his work. He takes the piece out of its frame packs it up, and rings me out. I leave quite happy with my purchase. The painting by itself almost makes up for all the other mishaps on this trip.

Once again I eye some gelato in a store window. It’s just so pretty. All the colors! But even though the rain stopped it’s still a cold windy day. Just not the right time to be eating ice cream. Maybe tomorrow.

We gather up again and it’s back on the bus for trip down the mountain. Off onto another bus that takes us to the pier. Umberto again purchases our tickets but there’s a hitch. I go to give my ticket to the crewmate at the ferry and he won’t let me on. Seems this is the 5:00 ferry and my ticket says 5:30. A few words between Umberto and the crew and those of us (glad it wasn’t just me) with the later tickets were finally allowed on board.

The trip back on the ferry is a breeze. It’s not nearly as crowded and the water is calm. I end up sleeping most of the way back. It was almost like I blinked and we were pulling into Naples harbor.

With the weather cleared up, we can make out Mount Vesuvius in the distance. Back on the bus, Angelica hopes we had a good time despite the yucky weather.

We make a stop at the same shop in Cassino as earlier mid-way through the trip then head back into Rome. As I am really tired at this point, I’m glad the plan to go back to the tour office to change buses again is scrubbed. The driver instead drops people off directly at their hotels in some cases and he lets me off on Via Palestro. By this time it’s around 9:30. I have just enough energy for a bath and then it’s off to bed.

Despite the really rocky start, I am glad I took the trip. I can definitely say that my 40^th birthday was one to remember.