Our apartment is a favorite that we've stayed in three or four times already, and it's above a wine store. Enough said. It works.
Last year, Fred gave the owner a print of one of his sketches—of the front of the store. It hangs framed in the store today. Here's our friend holding it.
Today I'm in my neighborhood caffé—San Sisto—drinking cappuccino and working—and blogging. The owner sings to the radio the whole time. Nice voice, luckily. Top forty. Some Adele, Chainsmokers, Ed Sheeran, and Italian stuff sprinkled in. It's like the KISS108 of Viterbo, and that's fine with me.
This morning I spent several hours frustrated with setting up Fred's phone, but it is ALL working now. This is also very typical for the first few days. Again, got it handled early on, which is a relief.
We don't pick up our car till Friday because, without the kids, we don't need to do a big shop across town, and we don't go exploring till Fridays every week.
We had the initial meeting with the students this morning and our new space is awesome! Our "home" last year was in an old convent that has since been deemed uninhabitable in case of earthquake. This place now has a bistro IN IT, and nice rooms, outdoor space, wifi. So far, so good!
I told the kids two things that I personally do and recommend the same. A lot of Americans traveling abroad decide, in advance, to tell people they are Canadian, so as not to be associated with the current leadership. They're embarrassed, first off, and also don't want any negative repercussions. I prefer to say I'm American and be the ambassador that we all are, and show the world we are not all who our current leader is.
The other thing I told them is less heavy: For fun, I force grouchy-faced Italian ladies looking judgingly down on me from their balconies, to respond to my "Buon Giorno!" And that they do, with a warm-as-can-be smile, which they'll do again every single time we encounter each other. Maybe I should practice this at home.
On my walk today, I stood at the window of a closed store—for a good ten minutes—staring at the strangest-looking cat, asleep on a chair. It looked fake, but it was breathing. I tapped on the window, took several photos to zoom in on later. Totally baffled by this whole thing. Its nose was particularly tiny, its tail not quite resting flat, but it had a collar and a tag, and was kind of mangy, like most Italian cats. I Googled it today...The first two images are mine. The third is from Amazon.com — a toy cat that actually "breathes." The joke was on me!
Here's another cat — real, this time.
As I approached this and decided to shoot it, I spotted a nun in flowing white coming up the street. I ducked into a street and sat on the ground aiming my camera at this scene, waiting for her to walk past it. After what seemed like way too long for her to get there, I peeked out to find that she had taken a left turn down another street. I want to practice patience this summer and get shots like that could have been.
There she goes....
First night's dinner with the students.
Cool door.
How can this tree not be pot bound???
The little doohickie attached to the wall says "Cane Parking."
These vintage Cinque Centos are getting fewer and farther between :(
The Fiat makes the Mini look downright horsey!
There's just no watermelon like Italian watermelon.
My Italy: Laptop & wine.
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