TMI

It's time to stop reading guidebooks. I have pored over city maps and closely examined the route from Bologna to Piobbico, the last named settlement before one arrives at the agriturismo. I have scrolled through Chowhound, copied and pasted discussion strings about restaurants in Rome and Florence, and perused restaurant websites, crossing them off the list if there is a menu in English. Connie and her family stayed at our Rome hotel last week, and kindly brought me the map that can actually guide us to the hotel. That, too, was earnestly studied. Twenty years of therapy tells me that any further research is about my anxiety, not about a better informed trip.



Follow up to the last post. Almond Roca is indeed a local delicacy, made in Tacoma, warehoused in Fife.



I've been testing the children to see how they'll fare in Italy. Unfortunately, at least one of them has failed 2 of the clever tests I've devised.

The first: last Saturday, hot and sunny, both sons were offered the opportunity to walk 3 blocks to get a small cup of soft ice cream - one declined.

The second: this evening, hot and sunny, both sons were offered the opportunity to walk 3 blocks to get pizza - one declined.

The third: at dinner tonight, while eating the abovementioned pizza, I say, in a friendly, casual tone, "Pizza and ice cream. isn't it great we're going to the place where they're supposed to be the best in the world?" The reply was prompt, neither hostile nor irritated, "uh huh." Definitely a pass.

There's hope for us.