will WE play in Peoria?

                    I’m not sure exactly what our dinner guests last night thought of their dining experience Chez Radeline. If they were to write a review, they might say the food was good (yes, the company stew was perfect) but the ambiance left something to be desired.

                After the main course, the kids were playing in the family room and the grown ups were sitting around the table chatting. Kaitlyn had cried a couple of times that the bigger kids didn’t play with her.

                Then, she started to complain that her stomach hurt. I thought she was just trying to get attention because the whole play thing was still not going her way. Oh, was I ever wrong. Holding her tummy, she opened her mouth and, well, threw up all over the couch. Then while she was trying to get to the bathroom, she threw up all over the floor, dangerously close to our guests shoes all lined up in a neat row.

                The good thing about having guests with children is that they simply sat and talked to each other while Bill and I cleaned up Kaitlyn and the couch and the floor and whatever else fell victim to her tummy troubles.

                Once she was changed and lying down, it was back to serving dessert and coffee like it was just another ordinary event at any dinner. Luckily it’s not and luckily the guests were understanding. The raspberry tart from the boulangerie was a hit, as was the frothy coffee from the Tassimo. Yes, Kaitlyn did say she wanted some tart. Luckily, she got distracted playing and skipped it.

                After they left (and the getting sick stayed), I offered to sit on the couch with Kaitlyn, so I could watch her. I’m terrified she will throw up and not sit up and choke. Granted, any day of the year she could get sick in the middle of the night and I don’t sit up every night staring at her. But once she’s started to get sick, I, well, panic a bit.

                She felt so sick that I chose a tv show to watch and she not only didn’t complain she didn’t even comment. I’d seen an ad for the Tonight Show on MSNBC Europe at some time I didn’t understand… like “central European time.” I had to dial through like a million German channels to find it, but once I did it was apparently “central European time.”

                The Tonight Show was on, and it was still in the monologue. From that, I figured out that the show was from Tuesday. All the commercial breaks were edited out, which was a bit odd, but not in a bad way.

                After that, Conan O’Brien came on. That was horrible. It was so bad, it allowed me to doze off. Apparently sometime after that, they showed a poker tournament. Bill watched that and he ended up staying up until around 2. Around 2:30 I was back up with a sick little girl.

                Oh, well, something came of the evening. I never used to watch the Tonight Show at home, but it felt so normal to sit on the couch and watch an American show. Too bad I didn’t look at the clock to see what time it was.

                Just like it is easier to put your dog on a diet than yourself, it is easier to let your 4 year old get her haircut in an unknown salon than to have your own locks trimmed under such conditions.

                Kaitlyn has been begging me to get her haircut. It is getting long. Like Bill, she hasn’t had it cut since before we moved. Ok, I did trim her bangs once and they came out all crooked so I’ve had to wait for them to grow out enough to warrant the trip to a salon. That time has come… and gone. I’m surprised she doesn’t bump into things while she’s walking, since it must be hard to see. (especially since she doesn’t let me put anything in her hair that would help keep it out of her face)

                    Bill said I should just call and make an appointment to take Kaitlyn to the place I went.  (this from the man who was so chicken he decided it was better to cut his own hair at home with a razor)  Not everyone cuts a little kids hair and it’s all the way downtown.

                    So this afternoon Kaitlyn and I were walking past the shops in Uriage on our way to get cash from the ATM so we could get stew meat from the butcher. (he only takes cash and I need to make stew because we’re having company and that is my “company food.”) We went past one hair salon and there was nothing on the window saying they cut children’s hair. It also didn’t say that you could get a cut “sans rendez vous.” Somehow I convinced Kaitlyn to move on. Then we passed a second salon. She cannot read but seemed to just sense that they cut children’s hair and that you don’t need an appointment (both were marked on the window). She grabbed my hand and literally dragged me in. I secretly hoped they didn’t have time. I mean, stew is company food and it is easy but it does take a certain amount of time to make. I don’t want to serve crunchy stew! Anyway, I explained to the woman who greeted us that Kaitlyn wanted a haircut. Turns out, she speaks a little English. So mixed with my little bit of French we managed to communicate what we needed. Oh, sure, they could do it now. How long could it take to cut a little girl’s hair? Oh, wait, this is France. Everything takes longer than you expect.

                    So the lady said she could cut Kaitlyn’s hair right now but by right now she actually meant after she finished a conversation with a friend who had stopped by. Finally that was done and she disappeared in the back room. She emerged with a giant cushion for Kaitlyn to sit on and a smock for her to wear. First, she washed Kaitlyn’s hair in one of the big bowl sinks like for a grown up. At the kid haircut places we went to at home, they’d just spray her hair with some water to get it wet enough to cut. She kinda liked the new experience. But even with the big cushion she wasn’t the right size and her entire back was soaking wet. Nothing a little hot air from a hair dryer can’t fix, I guess.

                    In the chair in front of the mirror, the hairdresser put the smock around Kaitlyn. It has Mickey Mouse on it. Kaitlyn liked that. Kaitlyn’s hair is so full of knots, since she hates letting us brush it, that the hairdresser had to go find a really wide tooth comb to get the job done. Then, finally, the cutting could actually start. I’d asked her to trim her hair so it framed Kaitlyn’s face, and hid the remains of Kaitlyn’s self haircut. (she’d cut a chunk out of her own hair back in September! The lady who cut hair just for kids did a horrible job of “fixing” it months ago and it still looks funny.) The other reason for the new “do” is because Kaitlyn hates having her hair pulled back and it’s constantly in her eyes or her mouth. The hairdresser was also careful not to cut Kaitlyn’s hair too short, which is good because Bill thinks his daughter should have long hair. After she was done trimming, she used the hair dryer and a round brush to make Kaitlyn’s hair just perfect. Then, to my surprise, she got out some rubber bands and pulled the newly trimmed hair into pig tails. If Kaitlyn normally let me do that, the hair cut wouldn’t have been so imperative! It’s ok, I know she’ll never let me do that at home. And it was cute. No, I didn’t take any pictures of it.

                    I went to pay and tried using a credit card. No can do. But the woman actually let me walk down to the bank machine and come back with the money. I didn’t have to leave my keys or my child as “ransom,” she just trusted I would return. She also gave me her card and suggested as politely as possible that I may want to return to have my own hair done. Yes, I know I should. I’d have made an appointment but I didn’t have my calendar with me and can never remember when my French lessons are since they never seem to be at quite the same time from week to week. I also figure this way I can wait a few days and see how Kaitlyn’s hair looks when we have to fix it ourselves. That will be the real test.

OK, does it make me too big of a geek if I spent the morning at Chamrousse and didn’t ski. I mean, I didn’t even wear my ski outfit or take my skis with me. I took Kaitlyn to ski school and was too chicken to go skiing by myself. What if I fall? What if the slopes are more rocks than snow? It’s not like they’re going to tell you that when you walk up to buy your lift ticket. “Oh, no, don’t spend your money here today! Conditions are lousy!”

                So while Kaitlyn kept working on her perfection of the sport in the Piou Piou Club, I sat in a restaurant drinking a horrible coffee (oh, I miss Rome!) and working on a cross stitch.

                Problem is, Kaitlyn has ski school every morning this week. I’m either going to have to get over my fear of the slopes or the waiter at the restaurant is going to start bringing me my coffee before I even have to order it.

It’s amazing how the mind of a four year old works.

                        Today we took a drive to check out an “easy” walk I’d found in a book of hikes in the Chartreuse mountains. It was about 45 minutes from the house and included a small stretch on a toll road. At the toll booth, naturally, the transaction is conducted in French. As we were pulling away, Kaitlyn asked what the man said. Then she asked us how he learned to speak French.

This morning when we left Rome, I felt a lot differently about the city than I did when we arrived Sunday.

                    In my few days there, I started to fall in love with the city.

                    The mix of the unthinkably ancient and the brand new. The men trying to sell me everything from roses to sunglasses to bubbles became background noise. Even Kaitlyn had learned to look at them and say “No!” I had enjoyed my afternoons window shopping on my own… even starting to pretend that I was a local and not a tourist. The pizza last night was simply beyond compare. The coffee has spoiled me completely.

                    The hotel was ideal: walking distance to everything (although that tends to lead to a lot of walking!) with a view out of our window of the Pantheon! Kaitlyn loved the slippers by her bed and she even slept in her own bed! Yes, I could have done without the guy who sat right outside our window begging rather loudly, but even he became just part of the noise of the city.

                    But maybe the thing that made me a little sad to leave Rome was that I heard and read more English than I have in months. Heck, I think there’s more English in Rome than in Los Angeles! Except for one waitress, everyone we came in contact with spoke English. No one made me feel bad that I don’t speak and didn’t even attempt to speak Italian. Honestly, it made the return to France and to the struggle to fit in and speak the language a lot harder than I thought it would.

Today’s itinerary got tossed entirely out the window. Bill is sick. I am tired. Kaitlyn is tired. I was supposed to go to to the Borghese Gallery at 8:30am. Then the afternoon was a trip to the catacombs. Nope and nope.

                    After sleeping in a little bit, we returned to the Colosseum determined to see the inside. A couple of people tried to get us to take their English tours, but we figured Kaitlyn’s patience for tours had probably reached its end. The line to get in was long, but not horrible. And since it is Valentine’s Day, we only had to pay for one ticket! The tour organizer outside had told us of the deal.. and she said that if Kaitlyn were three she’d get in for free. So I told the ticket lady there were two adults and one three year old. She peered through her glass enclosure suspiciously but finally gave in. I did pay for the audio guide, so we could learn a little bit while we were there. The first thing I learned is that figuring out where you are supposed to stand for the different recordings is challenging in the Colosseum. All you get is a vague map with some numbers on it. The second thing I learned is that Kaitlyn thought the audio guide looked like a telephone and she wanted to talk on it. So I listened to a bit of the tour, then acquiesced to keep the peace and let her “talk” the rest of the time.

                    Continuing on the “things to make Kaitlyn happy” theme, we took a taxi from the Colosseum to Villa Borghese. Thank goodness, since the whole journey was uphill. And earlier this morning, Bill tried to put Kaitlyn on his shoulders and that caused a searing pain so he put her down and forced her to walk on her own.

                    I’d read that Villa Borghese, which is a giant park, has boats you can rent on the lake. I don’t know why but I assumed they were little remote control boats. No, they were actual rowboats. It was not easy to convince Kaitlyn that we were not going to go on a boat ride. It’s chilly, Bill is sick and I am wearing a skirt. No boats! There was a sign for a train so we tried to follow that. The first path we took was the wrong way. We stopped and got lunch at a truck along the road… Bill and Kaitlyn got hot dogs and I got a chicken sandwich that I only ate half of because I was so hungry it was gross. We finally found the “train.” It isn’t a train at all. It’s a sort of arcade. There are little bumper cars for someone Kaitlyn’s size. She tried those but got annoyed because she kept bumping into the walls or the parked cars, so she got out. There were other rides, like the kind you find at the entrance to the grocery store in the United States. She rode all of those, then wasted some money trying to win a stuffed animal with one of those claw games.

                    From the park, we planned to take a taxi to the hotel. Kaitlyn saw some escalators and insisted on taking them. We figured a ride on the metro would do for her train ride, so we went. After riding countless escalators and walking for blocks through a tunnel, we came out near the Spanish Steps. Bill is convinced we found some strange shortcut through Rome that no one else knows about.

                    We stopped at the McDonald’s there for a snack and a bathroom break. The bathroom was disgusting. The snacks were fried shrimp… minus the heads!

                    Even though we were only a few minutes from our hotel, Bill and Kaitlyn took a taxi back. He told me later that they, of course, stopped for gelato next door.

                    I continued my quest for the perfect souvenir. I bought a cool Vespa calendar, but it still isn’t the “perfect” remembrance. I stopped at Daniella’s coffee shop for another cappuccino, then realized I’d mis-ordered when the guy next to me got a hot chocolate.

                    I returned to a shoe store I’d gone into yesterday to try on some boots. Shoe stores in Rome are completely different than shoe stores I’m used to. All the shoes are on display in glass cases in front of the store. You take the salesperson outside and point at the pair you like. I tried on two pairs of boots and was ready to admit defeat to my chubby calves when the man who appeared to be the store owner offered a solution: he has a machine that can stretch the boots to fit. Can I wait 10 minutes? He measured my calves, took the boots and went into the back. Ten minutes in Rome is like 10 minutes in France… more like 30. I wanted to go get a cup of hot chocolate, but didn’t want him to think I wouldn’t be back. I could leave the bag of tights I bought for Kaitlyn as a guarantee of my return… nah… too hard. So I sat and waited. His trick worked and I bought the boots. I wish I’d had them in all that rain!

                    Back at the hotel I found Bill watching tv instead of napping. After a while he turned to me and said “go ahead and get whatever Sky tv you want… I do miss just watching plain old tv.” We watched a show on Animal Planet about some zoo then I flipped around and found “Three Sisters” followed by “Gilmore Girls.” I don’t even watch “Gilmore Girls” but was thrilled with it… just to have a show in English.

                    We finally decided we had to stop watching the American tv and eat. But we could barely wake Kaitlyn up from her nap to go to dinner.

                    Tired of all the heavy and pricey meals, we went to a pizza restaurant written up in two different tour guides I read. Pizzeria Baffetto. It was a short walk from our hotel. When we got there, all the tables outside were full and I was afraid we’d have to wait. Someone lead us inside, up a tiny staircase and into a room crammed full of tables and chairs. When you sit down the waiter puts down the table “cloth”… white paper. And as soon as we sat down, the waiters started gushing over Kaitlyn. And Kaitlyn flirted back. (she is never allowed to go to college!) We started with bruchetta, which isn’t my favorite. It came with some mushrooms and white beans on the side, so that’s what I ate. It was incredible. I don’t know how a plate of beans that appeared to have nothing on them could be so incredible, but they were. The waiter made sure Kaitlyn’s pizza would be ready first. She got one with cherry tomatoes on top. I was glad she didn’t see the one with egg on top. Then came mine and Bill’s. He got spicy salami. I got mushrooms and onions. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. I have never had pizza that good and I will make a trip back to Rome just to eat there again. I found my perfect souvenir… a menu from Pizzeria Baffetto.

Today started with a tour of the heart of Ancient Rome. Our guide is an American I found online. Daniella graduated from UNC Chapel Hill so when I told her that is where Kaitlyn was born, she liked us immediately. She doesn’t have a tour that is specifically kid oriented, but this is the one she suggested for us. And she seemed to make an effort to include Kaitlyn and point things out to her just for her.

                She started us off at the Spanish Steps then walked us over to Trevi Fountain. I liked both a lot more in the day without being harassed! Daniella showed Kaitlyn how you can actually drink the water out of the fountain at the bottom of the Spanish Steps… and how to drink out of the drinking fountains along Rome’s streets. When I tried, I managed to spray water all over, including on Bill’s camera.

                Daniella took us into the Pantheon, which was great. We had wandered in on Sunday, since it is across from our hotel, and it was far more meaningful with her explanations. Around then Kaitlyn started begging for gelato (she’d gone maybe 12 hours without having any!). So Bill and Kaitlyn went to find some and Daniella took me into a great coffee shop right by our hotel. I’m glad she took me in because I would never have figured out the whole order at the cash register then take your receipt to the barrista (is a man a barristo?) thing. She also pointed out another coffee shop around the corner she said is worth a try. The nice thing is both seemed to attract as many locals as tourists, if not more.

                I was right, Piazza Navona was part of the Tuesday tour with her. She pointed out different things, though. Then she took us to a talking statue.

                We ended up having to pay her with a check, because we are limited on how much cash we can take out of “other” banks every 7 days… and we feared that giving her cash would leave us euro-less by the time we leave. So we wrote her a check. It’s in euros which should make it easier. But when I turned to Bill for help spelling the numbers out in French she said “oh, just write it in English.” I hope it’s ok!

                For lunch we returned to the first restaurant we’d eaten at in Rome. I wasn’t so impressed with it the first time (remember, I got full-bodied shrimp) but Salvidore said they had good pizza so we went back to try it. I ordered a “white” pizza with broccoli. But it ended up to be the part of the broccoli I don’t like – stems and leaves. I tried to eat it but just didn’t like it. During our meal, a kid who couldn’t have been more than 15 started to play his accordion on the street. When he came around the restaurant holding out his hat, I gave him a euro. I felt bad for him. Plus, every time I hear an accordion, I think of my dad and my Grandma Murphy. She’d have loved Rome because you hear accordions all the time.

                Kaitlyn woke up grumpy so Bill and I decided after lunch to let her take a long nap. I set out to do some shopping. I didn’t want to stray too far from the hotel, since I’m so lousy with directions. I got some postcards (and a pen) then sat at the second coffee shop Daniella recommended and drank some very delicious coffee and wrote some cards. I am never ever going to be able to drink coffee at Starbucks again. Luckily, I have a Tassimo machine at home or I’d have to give up coffee entirely after drinking really incredible coffee like that in Rome! I didn’t buy anything else. I just can’t seem to find the perfect souvenir.

                For dinner, we walked to a place near the Spanish Steps a friend in North Carolina recommended. She said it is near the Disney store, so we went there first. We bought Kaitlyn a new nightgown and she picked out a stuffed doll. It is Wendy from Peter Pan, which she has never seen, but she knew who Wendy is. I don’t know how.

                Dinner was ok. I skipped the shrimp, but Bill didn’t. Tonight, he was the one stuck performing surgery to eat. I went with roast chicken which was good, although a little heavy on the lemon for me. When he brought Bill the credit card receipt to sign, the waiter told Bill there’s no place to write in a tip, we’d have to pay him in cash. Then he hovered over us so we couldn’t discuss it. We both thought we’d seen on the menu a note that a 15% service charge was included. So we left there feeling ripped off.

                Kaitlyn had to have some gelato, so we got some at the place next door to our hotel. Then we went into the hotel bar to have some hot tea, because Bill was starting to feel sick. The bartender was great. He made a special cocktail just for Kaitlyn (it tasted like Hawaiian Punch). He fussed over her. She laughed. It was nice. He isn’t the only one at the hotel making a big deal over Kaitlyn. Everyone at the front desk addresses her whenever we come or go. The bellhop who helped us to our room Sunday is going out of his way to try to befriend her. Italians do seem to really love children. (It’s a nice change of pace)

Ok, so this is the Rome so many people fuss about. I’m starting to understand why millions flock here each year.

            We started our day early… at 8:30 our taxi dropped us off for our Vatican tour. (we were 15 minutes early. I have never been early anywhere. Ever.) The taxi driver pointed out the line of people waiting to get in. An hour and a half before it opened to the general public and the line already stretched for blocks. And this is the off season! Bill found our tour guide at the front of the line for the 9am groups. Since we were so early, he got us in with the 8:30 bunch. I splurged on a private tour guide I found online that promised a “Vatican for Kids” tour. Now, I realize that a Vatican for Kids tour is a pretty tall order. Salvidore was a very nice and knowledgeable guide. But not one minute of the tour seemed to be directed toward Kaitlyn. I’m glad we had a guide, but I could have saved a bundle on a group tour.

            I’d go back to the Vatican only for one thing: the Sistine Chapel. I was stunned. I simply cannot believe how taken I was with it. I could have stayed for an hour just staring at the ceiling. Pictures of it or descriptions just don’t do it justice. You have to see it to believe it. Salvidore told us all about how Michelangelo put up the scaffolding and did the fresco… how it tells the story of creation… the restoration process… the size of the people’s heads to make it look right to someone standing on the ground. Oh, and maybe the most useful piece of information he had: how to find the bathroom down the hall. There we are standing in the Sistine Chapel looking at this marvel and Kaitlyn announces “I have to pee pee.” Naturally, there was a line in the women’s room. But it was very clean. (If a nun uses it, would that be a case of holy shit?)

            Outside in St Peter’s Square, Kaitlyn had a great time. She chased birds. It kept her busy and helped her release some energy while we learned a little more about the Vatican. It was fascinating to see it after watching on tv last year when the new Pope was elected. As I stood there looking around, it seemed impossible to imagine the tens of thousands of people crammed into the square.

            The last stop on our tour was supposed to be of Rome’s weapons museum. Bill suspects that is the part of the tour the organizers thought would appeal to a kid. They may want to start to check their calendars. It is closed on Mondays. So we stood around and tried to figure out what to do next and settled on walking over to Piazza Navona. I think it is part of our Tuesday tour.. but I couldn’t be sure so I just went along with it. It isn’t like I had another suggestion. Bill had to carry Kaitlyn from there the rest of the way to the hotel. She was so worn out (I guess from her personal “free Rome of pigeons” campaign) that she fell asleep on Bill’s shoulder. I don’t think she’s managed to do that since she was a baby.

            After her nap we followed my itinerary and headed out for the Colosseum. Unfortunately, Kaitlyn was cranky and the weather was drizzly. She again insisted on being carried. We finally found a place to go in for lunch. At first, it looked like all it had was coffee and pastries, but by that point I’d have eaten the napkins. And I knew Bill couldn’t carry Kaitlyn much farther.

            My next concern popped up when the waitress came to our table. She only spoke Italian. I didn’t bother to learn even a few polite phrases before coming; my head is swimming with French I can’t remember when I need to so I figured there was no way Italian stood a chance anyway. But unlike some French who get snippy if you can’t speak their language, she didn’t seem to care. It was as if she made it her mission to take care of us. The pizza was great. The crust was so thin and crispy! I ordered a pizza with hot peppers and it was perfect. After downing her pizza, Kaitlyn indulged in some gelato. I think it’s already her third one since we got to Rome. While she and Bill enjoyed their frozen treats (Kaitlyn got strawberry. Bill had pistachio. Yuck.) I got a cup of the hot chocolate I’d heard is not to be missed. It was like a cup of melted chocolate. It was superb.

            On the way out, the waitress made a big deal of getting a bottle so Kaitlyn could take her leftover milk with her. I heard her in the back telling someone she needed it for the bambina. She came out with a juice bottle that had been washed out. She filled it with Kaitlyn’s milk, put on the lid and sent us on our way. She really took care of us.

            We felt much better after eating and walked the rest of the way to the Colosseum. Unfortunately, we got there too late in the afternoon and it was already closed. We figured that out after walking all the way around it trying to figure out how to get in. When there was no way in, we assumed it was closed.

            Salvidore told us that we just had to go to the Travestere district. He said it wasn’t a long walk from our hotel. So we figured we’d walk there for dinner to try to find a restaurant I’d read about. I had the address but the street isn’t on our map. Even with our map we got a little turned around and it took quite a while to get there. Poor Bill ended up carrying Kaitlyn part of the way. Once we found the neighborhood it did seem charming. Less touristy, although I’m sure it was filled with them. We walked around and around, managing to keep Kaitlyn from seeing the McDonald’s.

            Somehow, we managed to find the restaurant we were looking for. La Cisterna. It was pretty good. There were only a few people in there eating and we were all tourists. I ordered the shrimp, because I’d read a review that said they had great shrimp. They came with their heads on. (So did the shrimp I got yesterday. No more shrimp for me, thank you very much) It was a lot of work and Kaitlyn kept eating off my plate, so I didn’t even get much. But the first course of antipasti the waiter brought was good. The pasta course he recommended was very good. After dinner, the waiter takes you into the basement of the restaurant which they call a “museum.” There is an old well down there on what used to be the street. Then he poured us each a glass of champagne and we toasted to a return to the restaurant.

            We ignored Kaitlyn’s plea to take a car back to the hotel, because Salvidore had been so insistent that Travestere is not a long walk. It was 8:45 when we left the restaurant – I happened to look at my watch because we passed a church that was ringing its bells and we noted what a strange time it was for bell ringing. On the way to the hotel we took a wrong turn somewhere. Then the drizzle turned to pouring rain. It took an hour to get to our room. All the while, Bill had Kaitlyn on his shoulders. We should have listened to her when she begged for a taxi.

If Rome is the Eternal City, I think I could have gone an eternity without coming and missed nothing. You are supposed to toss a coin into Trevi Fountain to ensure you return one day to Rome. Kaitlyn tossed in a coin. I nearly jumped in to get it back.

            Everyone warned us about Rome and it’s notorious pickpockets. We were told about being ripped off at every turn – every vendor and restaurant is allegedly out to cheat you. No one told us about the constant harassment you face walking down the street… and that those harassers target children. Pick on me. Don’t pick on my daughter.

            Our hotel is in a great location. It’s next door to the Pantheon and has a pedestrian square (piazza) in front of it. The piazza is filled with men selling everything from counterfeit handbags to sunglasses to bubbles. At night, the routine changes. No need for bubbles in the dark. They have light up disks they shoot into the air and little marbles they toss up to make chirp like annoying little bugs. And every one of them thinks that Kaitlyn needs whatever they’re peddling.

            At Trevi Fountain, they abandon toys and use roses. As we walked up, some dude pushed roses into my hand ,told me they were a gift. Then he turned to Bill and told him he wanted money for them. When Bill refused, the guy ripped the flowers out of my hands. Another guy tried. I said no. He handed the flowers to Kaitlyn. Then when Bill wouldn’t pay, we had to wrestle the flowers from her and shoved them back at the guy. As he walked away leaving Kaitlyn crying Bill shouted “I hope you’re happy now!” A third guy (or maybe it was the same guy all three times, I was trying to avoid looking at them to avoid being bothered) tried to shove some flowers at me and Bill shoved him away, yelling at him to leave his wife and daughter alone. By the time we were done being harassed, we were done with Rome. We’d already pushed our way through the crowds through the shopping district to the Spanish Steps then over paid for a horse drawn carriage ride to Trevi (for Kaitlyn). The carriage guy first told us he wanted 150 Euros for a ride. That was three times what we paid the private car to take us from the airport to our hotel. We finally reluctantly agreed to 80 Euros and when we did expected the ride to last more than 5 minutes. What a complete rip off.

            Hopefully Kaitlyn will sleep in her bed at the hotel. I found a place with a triple room… I hope that doesn’t turn out to be a big waste.

The smallest things make the biggest difference all of a sudden.

                Today on the way to the mall with Kaitlyn, I stopped to fill up the car. I had a quarter tank, but figured since I was passing right by the good gas station, I’d stop. While pumping my petrol, I overheard a man asking for directions. He was clearly speaking American English (you hear a lot of the British variety here). And he was clearly getting nowhere.

                When my tank was full, I went over to offer assistance. As I walked up I heard him saying in English “is your English any better than my French?” Oh, he was struggling. It was an all too familiar struggle.

                “I’m not good with directions, but I speak pretty good English,” I offered. The lost American was holding a print out of a Mapquest map with a star where his hotel is. Downtown somewhere. The French man told me that we were standing well off that piece of paper. I translated. He waved his arm and said “tout doit.” I translated. Then I asked him a question about the road we were on… we debated whether or not to send the traveler on the highway. Finally, that became the route of choice. The French man offered up directions and I translated into English for the American. Look for the exit marked centre ville. Grenoble? No – centre ville.

                I tried to explain to the lost man how very confusing driving in Grenoble is. The streets are not well marked and they go every which way. I neglected to warn him that the exits are not marked with street names, but with vague references to places or landmarks you might find by going that way (but probably only if you already know how to get there). I did remember to tell him to look at the signs at intersections, they point out where hotels are. I hadn’t taken my gps along since I know how to find the mall (of course). If I had, it could have helped. But probably would have insulted the French guy who was trying so hard to direct the traveler.

                Before heading on our ways, we thanked the French man. He shook our hands and said “bon journee.”

                I don’t know if the poor guy ever got to where he was going. I got to the mall. And I was so excited… it was as if I’d turned a corner… and never even gave it a second thought when I was doing it. The good feeling of knowing my French lasted until I tried to buy shoes.