Italy

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Mishaps in Italy

Last time I wrote about how wonderful my family vacation to Italy was.  As with all trips, there are bound to be mishaps.  Ours occurred in a taxi and at a train station.

After visiting Vatican City, we planned to have dinner at a restaurant recommended by my in-laws.  Its location was about 10 miles away.  We had no trouble hailing a taxi driver who upon finding out our destination decided to charge us a flat rate instead of using the meter:  45 euros.  That was my first mistake.  But after a whole day of sightseeing at nearly 100-degree temperatures, we just wanted to eat.

With my oldest son in front, my wife, youngest son and I in the back, off we went in a real-life version of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.   It didn’t help that the back of the backseat was so upright that it felt as if someone’s hands were pressed up against me to lean forward.

Suddenly, the man is talking and I thought, “What is he saying to my son?”  It turned out he was having a private conversation; speaking Italian, he probably thought we couldn’t understand a word (he was right).  Then, he starts smoking.  We found out later that drivers are forbidden to do that while transporting passengers.  But with this man, laws do not apply as he would change lanes into the opposing direction in order to get around traffic.   Forget eating dinner, my life was about to end in a head-on collision. I quickly thought about our dog back home and how he would feel if we never came back from Rome.

However, we did arrive in one piece, ate dinner, then had a different taxi take us back to our hotel.  Cab fare:  15 euros.  And the man obeyed traffic laws.

Two days later, we went to the main train station in Rome to travel to Florence.  My wife smartly purchased tickets months in advance, able to upgrade to business class due to the early bird discount.

Walking into the Roma Termini is quite disorienting.  A visual onslaught of giant TV screens blinds you, only showing ads.  Good luck finding the smaller screens displaying the needed information travelers seek such as trains departing and arriving.

Just then, my son spotted a young lady in an official-looking vest coming over to help us.  “What terrific public service” I thought to myself as she took us to a wall with a printed schedule and told us to go to Platform 3.  As soon as I thanked her and was turning away, she put out her arm, palm raised, expecting a gratuity.  And then it hit me—she wasn’t an employee but a scam artist.

Before we traveled, my wife sent me an article about the schemes to watch out for overseas such as pickpockets distracting you with jewelry or babies.  Not on that list was people masquerading as train officials.

After giving her the smallest coin I had (1/2 a euro), we hustled to Platform 3.  Strangely, no one else was in that area.  I tried asking for assistance from employees, but I received cold responses.  My son, using Google Translate, was able to find out from one helpful person that the platform number for arriving trains is not posted until minutes before arrival.

Quickly, we found that information just as we heard an announcement that the train we needed was about to depart.  With two bags in tow, I ran and found that train only to see it whoosh out of existence like a scene from a Chuck Jones cartoon.

So we had to purchase new train tickets costing us $225 in U.S. dollars.  Unlike the business class tickets we originally purchased, these were second class seats.  And arriving an hour later.

The one part of our entire 10-day adventure to Italy that concerned me the most was the getaway day which entailed two taxis, one bus, one train, two planes, and lots of perspiration.  To be continued.

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Trip to Italy Provides Amazing Chance Meeting

When my wife and I first traveled to Europe in 1997 visiting London and Paris for our belated honeymoon, it was before dogs, children and hair loss.

Not a lover of traveling long distances (I prefer car trips), I promised my wife that one day we would go to Italy.  And so we did, just a couple of weeks ago, 10 days sightseeing in Rome, Florence and Venice, this time with our children.

Seeing manmade structures centuries old dating back to the B.C. era is incredible.  Here in L.A. “since 1959” is considered an achievement.

We walked around the awe-inspiring Colosseum and other ancient sites, climbed the final claustrophobic 320 steps inside the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica to a spectacular view of Rome, and marveled at Michelangelo’s genius in the “La Pieta,” the Sistine Chapel and the 14-foot high statue of David.

The food in Italy is as delicious as advertised.   Pizza, pasta, pastries and gelato unlike you have ever eaten.  If you ever go to Florence, the fourth-generation owned Vivoli is the gelato to get.  In Venice, run not walk to the Pasticceria Rosa Salva for the pistachio cream puff.

In addition to the major landmarks, there were two other places on my list of must-sees.

Since I teach Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, I had to see where he was assassinated and where his body was cremated.   I also wanted to visit the old Jewish ghetto since I just finished a Holocaust unit last month.

While the cremation site was clearly marked, locating the exact spot where Caesar was killed was another matter.

Most sources reference an archaeological area called Largo di Torre Argentina.  It is a place where every March 15 (ides of March) there is a reenactment of the murder.  However, one tour guide took us to the real site, an apartment building several yards away without any signage.

When we visited the former Jewish ghetto, we learned that once Mussolini welcomed Hitler’s troops into Italy in the fall of 1943, the Nazis demanded 50 kilograms of gold within 36 hours not to deport Jews, yet after Romans assisted the Jews upon meeting that demand, the Nazis reneged on their promise, deporting over 1,000, several sent to Auschwitz; only 16 survived.

Berlin-born artist Gunter Demnig is known for commemorating victims of the Holocaust by placing gold plaques in the ground at the last known residences of those taken from their homes and killed.   Several can be seen here.

However, the most serendipitous moment on the entire trip was meeting Eleonora Baldwin, our guide in a private food tour of Rome.  Born in the U.S. but raised in Italy, she has a popular website about the Italian lifestyle.

One of the tastings was in the ghetto area where we sampled Jewish pizza (like fruitcake) and the Jewish-style artichoke (like potato chips).   When I told her that I had just finished teaching about the Holocaust, she told me that her grandfather made a film about an aristocratic Jewish family who ignores what’s happening in Italy during World War II.  Called “The Garden of the Finzi-Continis,” she asked if I knew who Vittorio De Sica was.

It was one of the few times in my life when I was speechless.  Of course, I knew who De Sica was, arguably the most influential Italian filmmaker in history, the director of classics such as “Shoeshine,” “The Bicycle Thief” and “Umberto D.”

Eleonora said that her grandfather also helped hide Jewish people during the War.

Even more amazing was that she wasn’t even supposed to be our tour guide that day; the assigned guide became ill.  It was if it was fated for her and I to meet at the moment.  What are the chances?

So far I have focused on only positive aspects of my trip.  Next time, I will describe my version of  “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.”