Hello, old friend.

I write today from Caffé San Sisto, Viterbo, Italy. I love this place. AC, wifi, pop tunes, and a barista (do they call them that anywhere but Starbuck's?) who sings along with all of them. As do I, albeit much more softly.

This first post of the year will be stream of consciousness — I want to stay on top of the posts and it might be hard because I'm busy with work and we have guests coming this year.

First off the bat, Fred had to check a big box containing a tube of 23 posters for a show he's got coming up in a neighboring town next week. The box also contained a box of seriously strong magnets, and some extra-long pushpins—for hanging the posters. At Logan's Aer Lingus counter, they suggested it might be easier (and definitely cheaper) to carry it on rather than check it. But just as we were walking away, having checked only our suitcases, Fred mentioned there's more than paper in there, as he had previously said. There are magnets and push pins. Ah, this was a horse of a different color. They came around from behind the desk to read the poster about what cannot be carried on. (Not very reassuring about what they might miss.) Magnets. So we check the package for $100. Easiest hundred bucks Fred ever spent, since the alternative would have been getting denied after they scanned it at security.

Which brings me to baggage claim—at which point we expected to be reunited with said package. It's stressful enough to wait for your bags at an airport. It's doubly stressful to wait for your bags at the Rome airport. It's triply stressful when the crowd has dwindled down to about a quarter of what it was while you're still waiting. And... it's freaking mind-blowingly annoying when suddenly you spot your package sitting on the floor, off the belt, all by itself, surrounded by a few idle bystanders, 30 feet away. Insane. How it got there and why, we will never know. But we have it and that's all that counts.

Walking out the big doors to the throngs of people waiting for arrivals to Rome is memorable. Left to right as far as you can see are people holding signs with names on them—for hotel or cruise pick-up. A few yipping dogs on leashes wait with their owners for friends or family to come out the doors. Dogs at the airport. Not the drug-sniffing kind. Not the seeing-eye kind. Just the pet kind. Dogs are people in Italy. They are never excluded.

Also at the Rome airport: Militia. But they bring guns. Not dogs.

A coach bus took all of us (teachers and students) to Viterbo. Dropped the students at their place (a dorm-like residence) and the professors at their residence above the new school. Then lovely Italian people we have working with the program this year drove us with our three huge boxes of supplies to our place where we were greeted by our friend Flaviano whose apartment we've managed to rent for a fourth year. Maybe fifth.

We were all settled within a few hours. And blind tired. But met at the usual first night pizzeria. It's at Piazza Jesu where George Clooney himself was seen eating in April. He's shooting here in Viterbo next month. We're hoping he needs to scout some locations around town before then!

This is where we ate—27 of us! Lots of pizzas, salad, grilled vegetables, flat water, fizzy water, wine, and beer. [I'm using the Oxford comma now that I know it's the preferred usage. Tough to get used to....]

And here we all are. I told the kids they will remember very little about this magical night, due to jet lag, culture shock, and wine.

One more point to make.

The cast count is two. Every year I count how many people I see wearing casts. They're ubiquitous here for some reason. It's either because they have Vespa accidents (which they do), or because they still use plaster casts here, whereas we seem to use other stuff in the States. So. The cast count is two and it's only day one.

A few more pics:

Made in Everett, MA! But not my Skippy..... 

I don't know what this is, but apparently it's like a bandaid you put on your belly for four weeks and get toned, remodeled, and redesigned. Sign me up for the full-body version.

Fred doing his thing. 

Pretty storefront.