<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951</id><updated>2011-08-08T07:24:26.865+02:00</updated><category term='Naples'/><category term='Jameson Whiskey'/><category term='Italy'/><category term='Travel'/><category term='Dublin'/><category term='family travel'/><category term='Ireland'/><category term='Guinness'/><title type='text'>Finding Italy....</title><subtitle type='html'>What do you do when your husband's new job transports you to Italy? Learn Italian, and learn to take the cultural slaps in the face lightly.....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>10</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-511154776942753203</id><published>2010-05-08T11:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T16:33:26.514+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ireland'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jameson Whiskey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dublin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guinness'/><title type='text'>Dublin, Oh Dublin....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngmNfnvnOI/AAAAAAAAALw/VZpls0Lb4f8/s1600-h/IMG_2358.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngmNfnvnOI/AAAAAAAAALw/VZpls0Lb4f8/s320/IMG_2358.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366080969280298210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngmNfnvnOI/AAAAAAAAALw/VZpls0Lb4f8/s1600-h/IMG_2358.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; What can I say about one of the greatest cities I've had the good fortune of visiting? It's amazing, clean, friendly, musical, crazy, and extremely colorful. Especially after you've toured a few alcoholic establishments... With the kids safely under the wing of some good friends, my husband and I made our escape to the Emerald Isle in January of '09.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngBJFi8geI/AAAAAAAAALQ/5DT0yqv7Np0/s320/IMG_2365.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366040211631145442" /&gt; It was our first trip outside of Italy, so we were extremely excited to see some different landscape and taste different culinary treasures. &lt;div&gt;My husband and I love history. So, we thought the best places to explore first would be the historic buildings and churches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We started our first day in Dublin on a double decker Hop-on/Hop-Off Bus. We toured around the downtown area and passed a multitude of bridges and Victorian era buildings that had been witness to the Easter Uprising in 1916. When the tour came up to a large imposing grey brick building, hubby and I decided to disembark and check out what is called &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kilmainham Goal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style=" ;font-family:arial;font-size:13px;"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  ;font-family:Georgia;font-size:16px;"&gt; &lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngpvbQs9_I/AAAAAAAAAL4/gfMrtmuZ-Dw/s320/IMG_2271.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366084850760349682" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had read briefly in one of our many guide books that Kilmainham Gaol had been a prison of the most heinous nature. Opened in 1796 to replace a prison that was little more than a dungeon, it was home to prisoners as young as 7 years old who had been arrested for various crimes. During the Irish Potato Famine, people would intentionally commit petty theft to insure their own survival. Prisoners were given a daily ration of bread, water, and a type of gruel that looked like sand mixed with water. This was better than what people on the outside had to survive on, which is why its estimated that over 2 million people perished in the famine. And we think hunger today is bad? Considering the conditions inside the prison however, I think I would have taken my chances on the outside...  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngBJttBaTI/AAAAAAAAALY/ePv1bV61mmE/s320/IMG_2285.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366040222410828082" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngpvvfWxsI/AAAAAAAAAMA/fvwc8i_olA4/s320/IMG_2307.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366084856190518978" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Next we were off to see St. Patrick's Cathedral. It was truly remarkable inside and out. I was so overcome with giddy-ness (its a word!) to actually be standing outside this famous building I danced a "happy dance" jig. Hubby looked away in embarrassment and blamed my dancing on the whiskey to the fellow passersby. So much for American reputations abroad....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;With color drenched stained glass windows, tapestry lined walls, ornately carved wooden pews, and ancient sarcophagus lids it was truly an awesome experience. Yes, I said 'awesome.'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/Snr0SwIbWmI/AAAAAAAAAMw/N6mzwGMsoZA/s320/IMG_2249.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366870508960438882" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the more ancient part of the Cathedral, there were prayer candles that I couldn't help but light. I am Catholic after all and I'm compelled to light candles in the name of everything....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; "Forgive me, O'Lord, for the mass amounts of alcohol I shall be consuming on this trip. I know Evil and their names are Baileys and Jameson. Amen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QIQS1PE8I/AAAAAAAAANA/Y2Ze4i8eijA/s200/IMG_2466.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468504923560678338" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I must admit that although St. Patrick's was really cool to walk around in, Christ Church up the street was something entirely different. Inside, there were ancient mausoleums dating from the 15th century and banners hanging on the walls dating back even further.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SnrwBQyRUxI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Yqm4xiTftZU/s320/IMG_2458.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366865810441720594" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But even cooler than all the banners and tapestries and ancient artwork? I stood two feet away from Jonathan Swift's tomb. Yeah, &lt;i&gt;THAT&lt;/i&gt; Jonathan Swift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QHdNcqwiI/AAAAAAAAAM4/U7H3jOh-q-Y/s320/IMG_2475.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468504045942129186" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The tombs we viewed were truly beautiful. Decorated with weeping families, angels hovering lovingly over the departed, and in some cases simply adorned with wooden crosses and Catholic imagery. While walking around I found this particularly tragic looking tomb. Whether it be 500 years ago or today, grief is the same....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QKSEQ4ndI/AAAAAAAAANI/67l1Q4kwrfw/s1600/IMG_2435.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QKSEQ4ndI/AAAAAAAAANI/67l1Q4kwrfw/s320/IMG_2435.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468507153033108946" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Picture: The wife cries over her departed husband while the children, even though they are grieving themselves, try to console her. Okay, I'm already tearing up again just describing it....*sniff* Talk amongst yourselves.... I'll give you a topic: Irish Catholic imagery shouldn't make you cry.... discuss.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So after all the religious imagery, history, and well...&lt;i&gt;guilt&lt;/i&gt;. Who needs a drink?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QTXYGJNmI/AAAAAAAAANw/HFf4B9IDdu8/s1600/IMG_2344.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QTXYGJNmI/AAAAAAAAANw/HFf4B9IDdu8/s320/IMG_2344.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468517139860764258" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's nothing like building something up in your head so big that when you finally experience it, it leaves you a little bewildered and asking for a re-do because you're sure you missed something. That was my experience with Guinness. My hubby, the German descendant that he is, loves beer for the simple fact of its  well, &lt;i&gt;being&lt;/i&gt; beer. You don't need to be fancy, you don't even need to be cute or particularly pretty. You just need to be cold, taste good, and &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;be&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; beer. I, on the other hand have little to no experience with beer of any color. Having never tasted it or smelled it I was in for a treat, right? Hello? Testing, testing.... is this thing on?.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With much anticipation and excitement we went on to explore the Guinness factory. When we bought our tickets, the nice tour guide informed us to keep ahold of our ticket stubs because they were good for one free pint at the end of the tour in the SkyBar. Yippee! Free?! We're there! (Never mind that we paid an entrance fee, but hey, she said FREE).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QP64MsStI/AAAAAAAAANg/nRbBiNXJ1yc/s1600/IMG_2315.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QP64MsStI/AAAAAAAAANg/nRbBiNXJ1yc/s320/IMG_2315.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468513351727074002" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QKSEQ4ndI/AAAAAAAAANI/67l1Q4kwrfw/s1600/IMG_2435.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The factory itself was a self-guided tour of everything that has to do with the production of Guinness. You can run your hands through a trough of hops, smell the different plants said hops come from, and watch multi-media presentations on the cultivation and harvesting practices. Oh yeah, with stops along the way to "taste test" the different kinds of Guinness. Light, dark, etc. etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wanted to wait till we got to the end of the tour for my first taste, so I let the hubby have that fun on his own. After a tour through the vintage poster gallery, the machinery room, and the barrel room, we found ourselves in the elevator heading to the SkyBar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QTW3i48vI/AAAAAAAAANo/Q-Cj-dPOuVQ/s1600/IMG_2347.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QTW3i48vI/AAAAAAAAANo/Q-Cj-dPOuVQ/s320/IMG_2347.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468517131122963186" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-QP64MsStI/AAAAAAAAANg/nRbBiNXJ1yc/s1600/IMG_2315.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Skybar was an incredible 360 view of Dublin, with alcohol. They served three things. Guinness, soda and water. The servers were even talented in the art of 'foam form'. Every Guinness was served with a shape of some sort on the head of each beer. I was lucky enough to receive a shamrock, but so were 99% of the patrons. But I'd like to think I was the special one....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there I was, hands on my very first Guinness EVER. And there is my wonderful husband, wearing a funny little grin. 'What's so funny?' I ask. He shrugs and says, "Go ahead and drink your Guinness, honey." And knowing my husband's sense of humor, I should have thought twice before I swigged a HUGE gulp of that amber brew...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Q_ILix5AI/AAAAAAAAAOA/oHSfkiEzUek/s1600/IMG_2352.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Q_ILix5AI/AAAAAAAAAOA/oHSfkiEzUek/s200/IMG_2352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468565257304794114" style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Q_IqR98fI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Y7wfVyB1SK8/s1600/IMG_2353.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Q_IqR98fI/AAAAAAAAAOI/Y7wfVyB1SK8/s200/IMG_2353.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468565265555780082" style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;Oh yeah Guinness, you are one &lt;i&gt;deceptive&lt;/i&gt; bitch....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I politely passed my still full Guinness to my laughing husband, and he so graciously finished that toxic liquid for me. After dry heaving a couple of times and drinking 3 diet cokes I finally got the taste out of my mouth. Blech. Yeah I know, 'Guinness is the best beer ever! How could you not like Guinness?!' Well, let me tell you, I might be Irish, Scottish, and Catholic but a beer drinker I am not.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once we had finished at the Guinness factory, and noshed on absolutely the best Leek soup with smoked salmon and cream on Guinness bread, we were off to our next stop which was our Musical Pub Crawl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-RLF8Q6ixI/AAAAAAAAAOo/Sf3wuzyibNQ/s1600/IMG_2376.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-RLF8Q6ixI/AAAAAAAAAOo/Sf3wuzyibNQ/s320/IMG_2376.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468578412983126802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;   There are times when you are on tours and guided excursions where you feel like you are in a complete and total tourist trap. Overly contrived "traditional" experiences, packaged and sold like souvenirs. Hubby and I thought this would end up being one those times. We were completely wrong. We had booked the pub crawl knowing we'd be there solely for the alcohol, but we ended up having so much fun that drinking took a back seat.... or did it? Maybe we had so much fun &lt;i&gt;because&lt;/i&gt; we were drinking.... either way, the musicians who took us pub crawling were amazing, and extremely talented. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-ROt_MErRI/AAAAAAAAAO4/tSg0NJ4x4eE/s1600/IMG_2400.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-ROt_MErRI/AAAAAAAAAO4/tSg0NJ4x4eE/s320/IMG_2400.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468582399497776402" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; My personal favorite musical ditty they performed was a song called, "Old Maid in the Garrett." Apparently being an old maid was hugely funny back in the Irish day...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-ROtZ0iKRI/AAAAAAAAAOw/2Szzn658wOE/s1600/IMG_2388.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-ROtZ0iKRI/AAAAAAAAAOw/2Szzn658wOE/s320/IMG_2388.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468582389466933522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  It must be said though, Irish fiddlin' can make you dance, cry, and laugh all in the span of one song. I know from experience. My husband again blamed it on the whiskey...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-RRYqIqQLI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xWRuEPCFxwI/s1600/IMG_2371.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-RRYqIqQLI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xWRuEPCFxwI/s200/IMG_2371.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468585331603947698" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The small shot glass x 5 is what I had to my hubby's One Guinness. So yeah, it was probably the whiskey....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two hours of music, pub hopping, and funny Irish anecdotes and Q and A's about the music being performed culminated in the 'opening of the microphone' for those who had songs from their own lands to share. You could practically hear the crickets outside the pub when the crowd was asked to sing. Being the adventurous man he is, My hubby God Bless him, rose from his seat and declared, "I have one!" Being a former military man, he sang one for America. "She Wore a Yellow Ribbon" was sung for the 1st time at a pub crawl, according to the musicians.... *sniff* He makes me so proud....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once the ice had been broken, a few Aussies got up and sang some good ol' footballer songs (Rugby chants) and a guy from Sweden borrowed a guitar from the musicians and astonished everyone with his skills. Hubby and I stumbled back to our hotel around 1am, ready for bed and another day of touring Dublin. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;DAY 2:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:x-large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" font-weight: normal; font-size:16px;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UKuKnsd-I/AAAAAAAAAPI/hsm37Nt9ro4/s1600/IMG_2536.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UKuKnsd-I/AAAAAAAAAPI/hsm37Nt9ro4/s320/IMG_2536.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468789110752442338" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the time Hubby and I were ready to exit our room and get on with our day, it was pouring outside. We ditched into the first pub we found in Temple Bar (the drunk district) and were very happy to discover that not only could we get coffee and hot chocolate, but we could get them with a bit of "the hair of the dog that bit ya." Whiskey added to coffee or hot chocolate is divine....&lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt;. In my opinion, there is absolutely nothing wrong with Irish coffee or Irish hot chocolate at 9am on a Sunday. The only wrong part is if you happen to finish said drinks in the span of 5 minutes and you give the bartender a shock by standing in front of him asking, "Please sir, I'd like some more..." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UMXHXnEaI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/Z37G28uOCdo/s1600/IMG_2477.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UMXHXnEaI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/Z37G28uOCdo/s320/IMG_2477.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468790913765937570" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Either he was impressed or disapproving, I couldn't exactly read the smirk on his face. The atmosphere in the pub was exactly as you would picture it. Couples huddled under wooden beamed arches, large groups of men gathered around small tables discussing politics, football, or last nights' indiscretions. Hubby and I had a great time just soaking in the environment and soaking up as much 'coffee' before our explorations for the day. Looking through our city map (thank you helpful tourist office on Grafton Street!) we discovered, funny enough, that the Jameson Distillery was only a few blocks away. So, naturally thats where we headed next, red cheeks and all....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UngRF1MLI/AAAAAAAAAPo/7nApReyCqec/s1600/IMG_2525.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UngRF1MLI/AAAAAAAAAPo/7nApReyCqec/s320/IMG_2525.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468820757808492722" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Braving the rain and cold after 2 or 3 (or 4, ahem) coffees was a lot easier than before. The rain fell, we hardly noticed. The wind blew, we laughed and kept on going. We got lost a couple times, 'isn't that the same building again?' And I lost my umbrella, 'what the he-?' But eventually about an hour later, we found our way inside this cozy establishment and started our tour off right. With another drink.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Un1TWNSsI/AAAAAAAAAPw/8almHz5GTLs/s1600/IMG_2480.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Un1TWNSsI/AAAAAAAAAPw/8almHz5GTLs/s200/IMG_2480.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468821119191304898" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Jameson Distillery is simply a museum and tour of how the whiskey used to be made. The old building it is housed in was the original distillery that has since been moved. Our guide was a sweet lady that talked endearingly to our rather large tour group about the process in which they are able to make the liquid gold. The entire building smelled like sweet wet wood, and old antique barrels lined the walls. When asked if there were any takers for a 'whiskey tasting' after the tour, my hand shot up before I realized what had happened. Hubby laughed and again... blamed the whiskey. Out of a group of 30 people somehow I was the ONLY female to volunteer. Manly men from England, Australia, and Belgium (yeah, I know!) all looked sweetly condescending at me, as if I wouldn't last the 1st drink. Tsk, tsk, tsk....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UtAD3WoeI/AAAAAAAAAP4/mkzA6z4yx6o/s1600/IMG_2522.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UtAD3WoeI/AAAAAAAAAP4/mkzA6z4yx6o/s320/IMG_2522.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468826801572061666" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Once the group arrived in the "Whiskey Room", we were shown the vast varieties of drinks you could make with Jameson. They were handed out to the group and I, along with my manly fellow tasters, were sat at a long wooden table. Each of us were given 3 shots of whiskey, all different in color. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UtAtHlDZI/AAAAAAAAAQA/o2JohDxwJek/s1600/IMG_2507.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UtAtHlDZI/AAAAAAAAAQA/o2JohDxwJek/s320/IMG_2507.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468826812645969298" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We were asked to try the 1st shot and describe its taste. To me, it tasted like burnt wood and felt like it scraped all nerve endings out of my mouth. Yeah, that was Scott's Whiskey. Blech. The 2nd shot was like drinking flat Coke with an after burn, gotta love Jack Daniels.... The 3rd, was the Jameson. When asked which was which, I answered correctly each time. The men? Two didn't know what Jack Daniels was, another refused to take another drink after the Scott's Whiskey, and the Brit next to me mixed up the Jack Daniels and the Jameson. Ha! Take that manly men! For my "tasting" prowess, I was rewarded with a glass of vintage 20 year old Jameson Whiskey.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Uwg4HwTxI/AAAAAAAAAQI/uObrT_Zz1t8/s1600/IMG_2516.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-Uwg4HwTxI/AAAAAAAAAQI/uObrT_Zz1t8/s200/IMG_2516.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468830663890194194" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The pucker in my face was from the simple fact that by then I'd been drinking a steady stream of whiskey for about 4 hours. I was pretty sure by the time I got the vintage drink, I was going to hurl. That's okay, when my husband took the next picture of me on the way out?&lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt; I&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt; was the one blaming the whiskey...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UxSF2_tpI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/MzHEawUXucE/s1600/IMG_2527.JPG"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-UxSF2_tpI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/MzHEawUXucE/s320/IMG_2527.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468831509391586962" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Needless to say, this was the last big touristy thing we did while in Dublin. I don't think my nervous system, nor my husband's ability to withstand embarrassment could take anymore drinking... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The next day, we waved goodbye to Dublin, Ireland and boarded our RyanAir flight back to Italy. We learned a few things on this trip. #1 There is a TON of history and fun activities within a one mile radius no matter where you are in Dublin. #2. I can outdrink a Brit! #3. You can literally drink ALL day in Dublin and not feel bad for it (well, physically maybe) and #4. Dublin really is one of the COOLEST places you will ever see, hands down. Uhhhh, my poor head....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-511154776942753203?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/511154776942753203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=511154776942753203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/511154776942753203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/511154776942753203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2009/08/dublin-oh-dublin.html' title='Dublin, Oh Dublin....'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SngmNfnvnOI/AAAAAAAAALw/VZpls0Lb4f8/s72-c/IMG_2358.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-5990060989032280038</id><published>2010-05-07T14:04:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-05-07T14:09:50.550+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fast Foward...</title><content type='html'>Wow, when I said that I was going to start writing again, I &lt;i&gt;did&lt;/i&gt; mean it. I also &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; meant it when I said that I was going to stop procrastination in its footsteps... but I said those things 4 months ago and haven't written a word since then. Hmmmmm, this procrastination thing is harder to overcome than I originally thought.... what to do? What to do?&lt;div&gt;Well, first thing is first. I'm going to post those posts that have been sitting in the vault for far too long, and post some really cool newer entries and try my darndest to post everyday until my fingers are sore from typing, and my new rehab specialists are curious to find out how I got carpal tunnel syndrome in the matter of a couple weeks...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enjoy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-5990060989032280038?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/5990060989032280038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=5990060989032280038' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/5990060989032280038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/5990060989032280038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2010/05/fast-foward.html' title='Fast Foward...'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-469838355125914498</id><published>2009-12-18T13:18:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T14:05:29.750+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Craziest Year....</title><content type='html'>If there is one regret I have to add to my list of regrets for 2009, it would be not keeping up with my blog like I had originally planned. Between school, family, and traveling I've been horrible at keeping up. So I guess as it is close to Christmas and New Years I'm starting my resolutions early. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Resolution #1:&lt;/b&gt; Spend more time doing stuff that I enjoy. There are too many days that I find myself sitting around the house not doing the things I enjoy. Call it boredom, call it laziness, call it lack of motivation....blurgh. I'm calling it Dominique is becoming boring, and I need to stop.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Resolution #2:&lt;/b&gt; Start writing again. I started this blog with the intention of entertaining the masses with tales of what a normal American family does while living in Italy. Where they go, what they see, experience, touch, taste, and feel. Now that we are due to add another little one to our lives in the next couple of weeks (its a Boy!), the challenges will be greater, the traveling will be tougher, and the joy of watching Italians pinch our new baby's cheeks while exclaiming, "Bello!!' will be an all new adventure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Resolution #3:&lt;/b&gt; I'll come back to resolutions later.... no, wait! Procrastination! Stop procrastinating. I will commit to stop procrastinating as much as humanly possible. Well, as much I &lt;i&gt;possibly&lt;/i&gt; can....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So to enter back into the blogosphere, I plan on posting about some trips that the family and I took this past year while I wasn't writing.... and then add some more of the funny cultural struggles and experiences we go through daily. This has been a crazy year, but next year promises to be even crazier.... and thank God for it. :)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-469838355125914498?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/469838355125914498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=469838355125914498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/469838355125914498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/469838355125914498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2009/12/craziest-year.html' title='The Craziest Year....'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-1894650585078264636</id><published>2009-08-04T11:01:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T11:17:15.191+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Extreme Break...</title><content type='html'>So, after a good 5 month break from writing, I have a lot to catch up on. My family and I have had quite a few adventures. We celebrated a few milestones, including our 10th wedding anniversary! And on top of all that, we found out we're expecting a new addition in January! It has been a crazy, hectic, and fun 5 months. I hope that you will continue reading to find out just how crazy and fun it has been.... &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-1894650585078264636?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/1894650585078264636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=1894650585078264636' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/1894650585078264636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/1894650585078264636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2009/08/extreme-break.html' title='Extreme Break...'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-5763627778971574481</id><published>2009-02-23T14:25:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T07:00:35.903+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'> &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SaK_qzlpahI/AAAAAAAAAKo/SyK3hQD6RvE/s400/IMG_2087.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306014053119388178" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   Living in Southern Italy, has its perks. The food, the beaches, and the most amazing historic and archeological sites all within an hour's drive away. Since I'm currently attending college for a BA in History, this is a huge plus for me. Although my kiddos don't mind going to all these wonderful places, they sometimes find no value in staring at something that doesn't move, doesn't talk, is half broken, or you have to have a History lesson to understand why you would want to look at &lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:arial;"&gt;it in the first place. Thankfully, Italy has entire Archeologically intact towns and villages to walk through and explore. That is something our kids can get on board with. If they can see it, touch it, explore it while someone is teaching them about it... it really hits home and expands their adorable little minds. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SaK9F1EYvwI/AAAAAAAAAKg/wymD1UO81_g/s400/IMG_1939.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306011218838339330" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;   On a "for no particular reason" monday, we and our friends decided to keep our girls out of school for the day. We explored the town of Ercolano, which is home to the Archeological Treasure trove of Herculaneum. More intact than Pompeii, and not such a treacherous town to navigate, Herculaneum boasts fully intact villas, store fronts, and complete mosaic floors in many of the homes and bath houses sprinkled throughout the town. The most interesting thing we found, were the fact that most of the intact roofs that were still standing contained the original wooden beams which were charred through from the eruption in 79 A.D. Yet, the roofs still stood.   The children had an amazing day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;They ran through villas, peeked at 2,000 year old art from inside said 2,000+ year old villas and store fronts, they wondered at the crumbling walls, and inquired about the kids that might have lived there thousands of years before. After exploring the town, we headed to the Interactive Museum up the road from the archeological site. The Museum is amazing. Imagine being able to walk through a completely recreated CGI example of everything you just got done wandering through would have looked like before the Volcano erupted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial;"&gt;   And because pictures just would not have been enough to show you what a truly awesome experience it was, and how much fun kids can have with history, I put together this little video of our journey that day. Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-cf7ab2fdd41f71cd" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dcf7ab2fdd41f71cd%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329971560%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1FA33756A5CFADDBEB6A57F77CFBB15D8FBD459A.80242CE53C7AD79BBA53D0492D5CD6494F11F8C6%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dcf7ab2fdd41f71cd%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D3cOWCi0acTegMJti70tu_N2Vhwo&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt5.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dcf7ab2fdd41f71cd%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329971560%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D1FA33756A5CFADDBEB6A57F77CFBB15D8FBD459A.80242CE53C7AD79BBA53D0492D5CD6494F11F8C6%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dcf7ab2fdd41f71cd%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D3cOWCi0acTegMJti70tu_N2Vhwo&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt; More to come on Perugia, Umbria, Florence, Pisa, Dublin, Ireland (Yes, we branched out a little!!), and a return to Downtown Naples. Stay tuned!! &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-5763627778971574481?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=cf7ab2fdd41f71cd&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/5763627778971574481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=5763627778971574481' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/5763627778971574481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/5763627778971574481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2009/02/living-in-southern-italy-has-its-perks.html' title=''/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SaK_qzlpahI/AAAAAAAAAKo/SyK3hQD6RvE/s72-c/IMG_2087.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-877043577116547159</id><published>2009-02-18T14:40:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T14:54:06.290+01:00</updated><title type='text'>And then there was LIFE</title><content type='html'>Nothing is worse than being so excited to travel and then coming down with the worst case of strep throat you have ever experienced. So bad in fact, the doctor who sees you suggests a shot of penicillin before he even continues the examination. Ouch. Life begins to suck....&lt;div&gt;Then college starts back up for the hubby and I, and me being the over-extender that I am decide to take a full college course load while attempting to learn Italian, take care of my new 1st grader's anxieties about 1st grade, attend as many Italian holiday festas as possible, and plan a few trips here and there on top of all that. It might not sound like much to the casual multi-tasker, but ask my husband and he'll tell you first hand: "That woman does &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; multi-task well." So, as my last post was in October..... you can see where I'm going with this. It wasn't intentional by any means, it just was not to be avoided. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Funny part about all of it is though, we learned a few things:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#1 Don't be afraid of Italian pharmacists. I got strep 3x over the course of 4 months and a shot of penicillin at only 10 euro a shot isn't bad!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#2 Italian 1st grade is no joke! My daughter writes in cursive, does math, and recites Italian poems, and still has a page or two of homework each night. Thank Goodness she likes to read and write!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;#3 Italians are CRAZY at New Years! We saw so many fireworks! And our crazy neighbor shooting his pistol in the air next to our house. Firework show.... over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the next few weeks I'll be posting about our trips to Perugia, Paestum, Herculaneum, Florence, Pisa, and Dublin! Stay tuned!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-877043577116547159?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/877043577116547159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=877043577116547159' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/877043577116547159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/877043577116547159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2009/02/and-then-there-was-life.html' title='And then there was LIFE'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-165951453658562351</id><published>2008-10-03T11:54:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T11:54:35.838+02:00</updated><title type='text'>How NOT to do Rome in only One day.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="164" alt="Abbyonthetrain" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrYXExd1I/AAAAAAAAAGw/ytEjybLNu98/Abbyonthetrain_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;   &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;When my husband and I decided to head up to Rome for a day of sight-seeing and history walking, we thought we had things planned out pretty well. We went to bed early the night before, pre-booked our train tickets for the 6am train (34 euros/ $46 US) the next morning, and packed a bag full of snacks and water for the kiddos. At 5:30am, we woke up and headed for the train station. Unfortunately, I found once we were on the train that I forgot one of the lenses for my camera, and the only lens I did have, was my telephoto lens. Which meant the only pics I would be able to take would have to be close-up. Dargh!!!&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Trying to be even more prepared, I brought my make-up with me to do on the train. Let me tell you, although it saved time getting out the door, trying to do your makeup on a shaky train.... hmmmmmm.&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrZGb1pzI/AAAAAAAAAG0/Z4-TO7n4d70/s1600-h/Makeponthetrain%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" color="#000000" size="4"&gt;&lt;img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="164" alt="Makeponthetrain" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrZuCOEiI/AAAAAAAAAG4/osn4QDB0FI0/Makeponthetrain_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook"&gt; The train was awesome. It took us approx. 1 hour and 45 minutes to get to the main station in Rome. The whole trip was full of views of the country and the coast. My girls loved the train and asked if the train was going to last the whole day. Or oldest daughter, Ms. A, was glued the window the entire ride.&amp;#160; Although the ride was fun, there were some funny European eccentricities that went along with the fun. The bathroom was your typical train bathroom, all except for the toilet. Once we (my daughters and I) lifted the lid, we realized that the hole in the bottom of the toilet was opened....to the tracks below. This gave my youngest daughter sort of a pause on the whole &amp;quot;potty&amp;quot; process. After some coaxing and promising that she would not fall onto the tracks below...we finally got to leave the bathroom sans any pee-pee dancing. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Note to parents wanting to travel by train: bring hand sanitizer!! The bathrooms are usually pretty filthy, and they are almost always empty of hand towels and tissue. Be prepared!!)&amp;#160; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXraHIUG3I/AAAAAAAAAHA/kZSfSgS3cCg/s1600-h/cafeandcroissant%5B9%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" color="#000000" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXraHIUG3I/AAAAAAAAAHA/kZSfSgS3cCg/s1600-h/cafeandcroissant%5B9%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="160" alt="cafeandcroissant" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrbe8IMWI/AAAAAAAAAHE/wYkWIzgLUBo/cafeandcroissant_thumb%5B7%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;/em&gt;Once we finally reached our destination, we were off and running to the nearest bus stop, where we hopped on the #40 Express. It was a quick 10 minute ride to Vatican City where we disembarked, and made a little time for a chocolate croissant and a cafe.&amp;#160; I have to say, I was a little hesitant to stop, especially so soon into our arrival, but the amount of chocolate pastries available at only 8am was pretty tempting. Besides, what's wrong with attacking Rome's monuments with a serious sugar high? Well....&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXraHIUG3I/AAAAAAAAAHA/kZSfSgS3cCg/s1600-h/cafeandcroissant%5B9%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" color="#000000" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXraHIUG3I/AAAAAAAAAHA/kZSfSgS3cCg/s1600-h/cafeandcroissant%5B9%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" color="#000000" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After we left our pretty cafe with all the lovely chocolate yummies, we headed towards the Vatican and St. Peter's Square. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;Unfortunately for us, we didn't plan well enough in advance for a trip to the Vatican. &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrcGhQMKI/AAAAAAAAAHI/U0XI-H-yXTg/s1600-h/vatican1%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="vatican1" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrcgby9eI/AAAAAAAAAHM/MxShnuZghrs/vatican1_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We had hoped to see the Sistine Chapel, the museums, and the inside of the Basilica itself. Except, once we reached the Square we were met with a line that was long enough to wrap around the Vatican itself.....&lt;em&gt;twice&lt;/em&gt;. And it was only 8:30am! So, in true &amp;quot;keeping an upbeat outlook&amp;quot;, we let the kids chase the crap out of the pigeons around us. The kids had a blast, the pigeons got a work-out, and I got some great pictures. &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrdNbxGkI/AAAAAAAAAHY/OeBKwvIyyoU/s1600-h/abbyandthepigeons%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="abbyandthepigeons" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrdqm_kXI/AAAAAAAAAHc/c3B2gsOYfRs/abbyandthepigeons_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="229" alt="chasingpigeons" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXreEQMcvI/AAAAAAAAAHg/5OhCbPNU6to/chasingpigeons_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;After we let the kiddos run off their chocolate breakfasts, we headed back to the bus stop and only waited 5 minutes before another #40 squealed to a halt and opened its doors for us to enter. We boarded, and headed toward the Coliseum in hopes that we would be able to see the inside of this next monument. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;We were warned beforehand of the so-called 'actors' who pose as Gladiators and Roman soldiers in front of the Coliseum who ask if you want your picture taken with them. If you agree, they smile willingly enough and as soon as your picture is taken and you say, &amp;quot;Thank you,&amp;quot; They demand payment for their &amp;quot;services.&amp;quot; They have even gone so far as to threaten calling the police if you refuse to pay. Some tourists give in to bypass the scene being caused, and smart people ignore them all together. I, however, caught a few pictures of the shake-downs we saw taking place around us.....&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXregNFTdI/AAAAAAAAAHk/I4XSAXusM5E/s1600-h/gladiatorshakedown%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="164" alt="gladiatorshakedown" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrfZrxr4I/AAAAAAAAAHo/1ZSEPauZ5No/gladiatorshakedown_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;This unfortunate man in blue (seen here in this picture) asked for a photo of himself and his girlfriend with the finger pointing Gladiator in red. Once the picture was taken, the gallant Gladiator demanded 10euro for EACH person in the photo! 20 euro?! C'mon! He wasn't even wearing a helmet, nor did he have any props on his person. How's that for being screwed 'cause you're a tourist?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrgHfJ8HI/AAAAAAAAAHs/79v972dJgD4/s1600-h/gladiatorshakedown2%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="gladiatorshakedown2" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrgtCU4PI/AAAAAAAAAHw/rkUY8d_1eug/gladiatorshakedown2_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="223" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;These lovely men in red pictured here, were telling the lady in the green shirt that she should take lots of pictures with them because her camera was good quality and would make for fine portraits. The lady said, &amp;quot;thanks, but I'll pass. I can't afford your fees.&amp;quot; The Gladiators quickly walked to a new area and tried again with different, less knowledgeable folks.... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; After a few laughs and seeing the outside of the majestic Coliseum in all its Wonder, we decided that people watching was a little more fun. We saw a so many different things around the Coliseum itself, not to mention the wait to get in was around 45 minutes to an hour, we decided to people watch and planned our next bus ride and area to visit.&amp;#160; One thing I will never understand about Europe though, and maybe someone can someday explain this to me, but what is the deal with wearing high heels and stilettos in the most unconventional of settings? I wore athletic shoes to walk around Rome all day. But while I was checking my cameras lens, I caught a glimpse of a lady's foot in my viewfinder and had to snap away. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrhb5nW6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/i9nEfSH1q_0/s1600-h/shoesoncobblestone%5B5%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="204" alt="shoesoncobblestone" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrh7E07uI/AAAAAAAAAH4/dR0Co9H95-I/shoesoncobblestone_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt; I have no idea what would drive someone to want to wear fish nets and platform like shoes on cobblestone streets, but who am I to judge? I'm not part of the fashion police, and I would hate for someone to judge my fashion faux-pas days, but fish nets? Seriously? &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt; Oh! Speaking of fashion and police, but in a different context: We spotted the &amp;quot;Bag Guys&amp;quot;. The guys who can sell you a great looking knock-off for around 15-25 euro depending on the fake make of the bag you want. I spotted a Chanel handbag laying on a sheet, and realized piled around it were Prada, Fendi, and &lt;strong&gt;Gucci&lt;/strong&gt;. I will in no way deny that I am always looking for a good bargain, especially in the area of overpriced fashion items. Note the Chanel handbag? The seller only wanted 20 euro for it. Not a bad price when you consider the real deal would most likely set you back an easy $1000 or more. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXriYxc1qI/AAAAAAAAAH8/QxXB5FeBXN0/s1600-h/Bags4sale%5B6%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="124" alt="Bags4sale" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXri5tuR1I/AAAAAAAAAIA/upHKlevwT8o/Bags4sale_thumb%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160; Right about the time I was seriously considering buying the beautiful chocolate brown Chanel in the back, a yell rang out through the crowd. Apparently the Polizia had shown up and a scout was yelling for everyone to make a run for it. One by one vendors hawking their wears began to scatter like crazy, throwing all their goods in garbage bags and taking off. The Bag Guys we were next to decided just to wrap up their sheet and make a run for it. They were pretty quick too...&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrjqv5P4I/AAAAAAAAAIM/15K2_GSV90Q/s1600-h/bagvendorsrunningaway%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="164" alt="bagvendorsrunningaway" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrkNx6EjI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/vLQdNn3_BQI/bagvendorsrunningaway_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(The Vendors making a run for it through the crowd with their goodies all wrapped up in a&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;strong&gt; sheet. If caught, they could face complete confiscation of their goods and jail time. No thanks, I'll pass on the Chanel this time guys.....)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;/strong&gt;By now, the family was ready to move on. So we got out our trusty map of the city and began our walk towards the Palazzo Venezia. On the way there we passed a very interesting statue of Julius Caesar. So mighty and majestic. &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrkpZ1NLI/AAAAAAAAAIU/xdsYLgkzkAg/s1600-h/CeasarsRome2%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="CeasarsRome2" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrlG6xx1I/AAAAAAAAAIY/VMonFVfL0rc/CeasarsRome2_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;'Vini, Vedi, Vici'&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; indeed.....&lt;/font&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160; All along both sides of the road leading to the Palazzo, we passed ruins and columns, statues and ancient marble slabs. Churches straddled each street corner, and vendors who were selling overpriced bottles of water and food stared dispassionately at all the passing tourists. Once we hit the major intersections it became a crushing throng of tour groups, commuters, photographers, and wandering tourists all crowding the streets with their mixture of noise and chaos. It was a beautiful and crazy clash of culture, history, and learning to say 'excuse me' in 4 different languages.&amp;#160; By the time we exited the crowd and the smoke cleared a little, we were able to see the Palazzo. We snapped some quick pictures and headed in the direction of a sign that pointed the way to the Trevi Fountain. &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrl2osV5I/AAAAAAAAAIc/kBrgfOHH85A/s1600-h/PiazzaVenezia2%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="164" alt="PiazzaVenezia2" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrmQBRjjI/AAAAAAAAAIg/kyH78IDF3IU/PiazzaVenezia2_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="when-in-rome" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrmyrlDKI/AAAAAAAAAIk/ODJ_3mVCI_Y/when-in-rome_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="191" align="right" border="0" /&gt; &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrnXf8MgI/AAAAAAAAAIo/c9n0K2cCP1k/s1600-h/piazzavenezia%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="167" alt="piazzavenezia" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrn6Tu8bI/AAAAAAAAAIs/8zLPmgIXA8Q/piazzavenezia_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;The Palazzo was beautiful, but the stairs leading up to the main building looked daunting and my husband and I were excited to see the Trevi Fountain, The Spanish Steps, and the Pantheon. What we didn't know at the time (because the map was visually deceptive!) Was how far apart these great things were. We followed the map, and the signs on street posts towards the Trevi fountain from the Palazzo, only to find 15 minutes into the walk that we were still a good 15 minutes &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt; away. So, we all agreed it was time for lunch. Which is exactly what we stopped for at a little place we found in a small 'pedestrian only' alley. The kids were happy to be eating pasta, hubby and I were happy to be escaping the prices of the restaurants on the main street, and all of us were happy to be giving our poor feet a rest.&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrokyRQII/AAAAAAAAAIw/aZEQaPcUQ3o/s1600-h/familyatcafe%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="164" alt="familyatcafe" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrpEYDOKI/AAAAAAAAAI0/VE2GXW9bUkw/familyatcafe_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt; For lunch, hubby and I had the typical Italian pizza. Mine was with red sauce, mozzarella, oregano, artichokes, and mushrooms. Hubby had the same. You can't go wrong with a pizza that can feed 2 people, but is &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; yours for only 5 euro. The girls ate their happy fill of tomato pasta. Everyone left that table well fed and happy for around 25 euro. (For a family of 4 in Rome, that is AWESOME!) The only hardship faced at that table, was having to leave. We heaved ourselves out of the chairs, and began the rest of our walk towards the Trevi....&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; I will say, I was slightly (and I mean VERY slightly) disappointed by the Trevi Fountain. Every postcard, poster, calendar, movie screen, etc. that I had seen the Trevi featured on made it appear as this massive mountain-like fountain. When we arrived, we had to wade through all the 'kitsch' vendors trying to sell bubble blowing guns, stress balls, flowers, laser guns with their annoying alarm noises, watches, and of all things, scarves with pictures of famous statues' private parts....&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt; Once through all those vendors, we were able to see what we were hearing over the voices around us: the rush of water descending from the fountain. &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrp4X0f5I/AAAAAAAAAI4/VDTIcFQgKuE/s1600-h/TreviFountain1%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="TreviFountain1" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrqmXKgoI/AAAAAAAAAI8/YgWr4mgaubY/TreviFountain1_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It was beautiful, truly magnificent. After taking pictures for other couples and tourists who asked us nicely to be a spot photographer, we snapped our own.&amp;#160; Ms. A was given a rose by a vendor while my husband took a picture of me in front of the fountain. Before she could say thank you, he turned and demanded my husband give him money for it. Of course by now Ms. A was happy to have a flower all her own, and my hubby being the softy he is, let the manipulating vendor take him for 2 euro. &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrrBS5kyI/AAAAAAAAAJA/twW542LMbYQ/s1600-h/abbysrose%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="219" alt="abbysrose" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrrrdrKPI/AAAAAAAAAJE/FmFy0X_gjGc/abbysrose_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt; You gotta give it to 'em, they know their game well. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Here's Ms. A showing her pretty &amp;quot;free&amp;quot; rose, the beautiful grace of the Trevi, and me in front of the fountain right before my husband was tapped on the shoulder for payment for said rose....)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrsDUR_ZI/AAAAAAAAAJI/E4k0FKCXUAk/s1600-h/Dominfrontoftrevi1%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="151" alt="Dominfrontoftrevi1" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrs0KjtcI/AAAAAAAAAJM/URFb3br-mLM/Dominfrontoftrevi1_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Due to the 'incidente de Rosa', we forgot to toss our good luck coins into the fountain. So, I suppose when and if we go back, we'll be throwing in double the amount of coins... One thing that was good to know as well? No matter where you are in the world, you will never fail to find a place that sells a good kung-pao chicken: &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrteL44QI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/N9wuR4ALEHw/s1600-h/chineserest%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="163" alt="chineserest" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrt31Xh_I/AAAAAAAAAJU/U5t-RA_2rpI/chineserest_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160; Our next stop, which unfortunately I have no pictures of, was the Spanish steps. The steps are famous for leading up to what was once the Spanish ambassador's residence. The palace was converted into a museum, and now the steps are the real draw to the place. Surrounding the steps are awesome gelato shops, the Shelly-Keats house/museum, and boutique shops. For about 8 euro, we all indulged in a heaping scoop of chocolate gelato in a cone. Sitting on the Spanish steps while you eat is actually against the law. (We found that fact out by being asked to leave the steps, along with every other person sitting and enjoying an afternoon snack.) Although the steps were amazing and full of history, they were also full of pushy tourists. Its one thing to enjoy sitting on a stone stair case and people watching, and its another while your attempting to do that wedged in between about 1500 other people trying to do the same thing. I finally had had enough when a lady decided to push my 3 year old out of her way, just so she could wedge herself into a tighter spot than her body was meant for. Instead of sticking around and causing an international incident (I seriously wanted to slap her!) we took out our map again and plotted our next course.&amp;#160; On to the Pantheon!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXruXqA3TI/AAAAAAAAAJY/I8TLbDImYkM/s1600-h/Pantheon%5B6%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="Pantheon" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrvCCLpjI/AAAAAAAAAJk/z92-MR8QQ80/Pantheon_thumb%5B4%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160; I only wish that I had a better picture of this massive giant. Columns loomed over our heads to hold up their marble and stone burdens with care. Colors, that at one time must have made the sun bounce off their glittering surfaces, now stood dark gray and brown. It was a testament to how time passes. 'I might be older than anyone can imagine,' it seemed to say, 'But I'm still here.' &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Nothing instills more awe in me than the ability to walk around and touch antiquity that is so intact, it feels as if men in red togas, and priests and priestesses would be coming around the pillars of these buildings at any moment. The inside is free to enter, but it is still considered very sacred ground (as it is a Catholic church and cathedral now) Sacred relics line the circular interior, along with signs asking for respect of the sacred space in which you were standing written in 5 different languages. &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrwIZtuqI/AAAAAAAAAJo/XbaYZMmHy4A/s1600-h/parthenon2%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="parthenon2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrwo5pCtI/AAAAAAAAAJs/AY8w0WgyjLM/parthenon2_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; A quick walk around the inside, and we were back outside admiring the wonderful surroundings. My suggestion is this when traveling with children through the pantheon, take turns. One parent inside while the other watches the kiddos outside. Small children of walking age (3-6) will feel completely helpless due to the amount of bodies trying to cram into the area. My poor daughters experienced half of the Pantheon staring at nothing but the backs of people's legs. Strollers were not allowed, and many carried their babies inside. Even they were being shoved and pushed up against. I know it sounds like I am complaining a lot about the other people around us, but its mostly their behavior I was shocked at. Usually we have no problems going anywhere in Italy. People are very accommodating because we have our daughters with us, but the attitudes and downright rude &amp;quot;me first&amp;quot; mentality we witnessed from ALL language speaking tourists around us, made our trip begin to turn negative. Hubby and I decided that it would be better to just keep going and enjoy the day, than worry about what other people were doing. But I do have to say, after watching my daughter get used as bait for money, my other daughter pushed with no regard to her safety by a complete stranger, and being herded like cattle through a monument that was supposed to be a place of peace and worship (especially to us Catholics) I was losing patience. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Walking back to the Metro Stop to catch the #40, once again, to the train terminal, we entered a Palazzo that we hadn't thought about visiting but we were so thankful we did. Palazzo Nuovo was a breath of fresh air. It was an artists and art lover's paradise. Painters, sketch artists, caricature artists, and even puppeteers were all lined up in neat rows to sell their works, perform, or sketch your portrait. &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrxGhv7OI/AAAAAAAAAJw/J71_4xLxHnA/s1600-h/PiazzaNuovo%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="164" alt="PiazzaNuovo" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrxs4VRbI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/NsXn30YNV04/PiazzaNuovo_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The artists were so talented and spanned a vast area of interests. Don't like oil paintings? Then shop from the guy next to him and buy a watercolor. Don't like watercolors? Purchase a photograph in black and white from the guy next to him. We were even being serenaded by a lovely woman playing the accordion. &lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXryfcODYI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/Ufk1fqPvlAA/s1600-h/Accordianplayer1%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="Accordianplayer1" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXryzijcHI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/FDFIQEHib5U/Accordianplayer1_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;#160; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;She was amazing. She played a traditional Italian song, and when my girls placed a coin in her accordion case, she smiled warmly and switched the song to the theme from 'Lady and the Tramp'. (&amp;quot;Bella Notte&amp;quot;) It was such a serene scene, and so calming. Hubby and I were able to finally breathe and&amp;#160; relax. Although there was quite a few people around us, none of them were in the hurried frenzy we had been experiencing for most of the day. My girls even noticeably relaxed and strolled alongside us, humming the accordion player's tunes. Ms. A was watching a woman being drawn in charcoal by a portraitist, when a song made her look around for its source. There, not even 10 feet away from us was a man doing the oddest thing. He was making his fingers dance, and attracting quite a crowd....&amp;#160; &lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrzbVt_3I/AAAAAAAAAKA/JpHsYsEYAls/s1600-h/fingerdancers%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="164" alt="fingerdancers" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrzjS9OFI/AAAAAAAAAKE/ePpoDNSw01k/fingerdancers_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;The amazing man behind these &amp;quot;dancing&amp;quot; fingers was named Marcel. He was a master at setting a mini-stage of dancing can-can girls, a charlie chaplin homage, and a hilarious take on Michael Jackson's &amp;quot;Smooth Criminal&amp;quot;. Not only did &amp;quot;Michael Jackson&amp;quot; dance for the crowd, he also came with his signature smoke screen and yell of &amp;quot;Hoooooooooooooo!!!!&amp;quot; It made the entire crowd&amp;#160; roll with laughter. Thank you Marcel, you made the day end on a very happy note...&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXr0dAUIhI/AAAAAAAAAKI/e7qpnWfwaw0/s1600-h/fingerdancingman%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="fingerdancingman" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXr1fS54yI/AAAAAAAAAKM/Bu3-3H9HP1I/fingerdancingman_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="left" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt; And because it was just that funny, here's a picture of his Michael Jackson smoke screen: &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXr14J1fgI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/84wQxa9s1ys/s1600-h/smokescreen%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="smokescreen" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXr2eLMaqI/AAAAAAAAAKU/N35e0cvj2TE/smokescreen_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="164" align="right" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;ol&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; Once the sun began to set, we headed towards our metro stop and boarded our #40 back to the train terminal. All of us were tired, happy, and ready to get back home. Lessons learned: &lt;strong&gt;#1&lt;/strong&gt;. Never accept anything free, even a &lt;em&gt;flower&lt;/em&gt; from someone at a major tourist attraction. It will end up costing you anyway. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/li&gt;    &lt;li&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;#2.&lt;/strong&gt; Always bring your own bottled water. It will end up costing you more in on the spot purchases than a pack of postcards, a souvenir snow globe, and a key chain put together! &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; #3&lt;/strong&gt;. Learn the words &amp;quot;Excuse me&amp;quot;, &amp;quot;No, I don't want to buy your bubble blowing laser gun&amp;quot;, and &amp;quot;Don't push my kid you (expletive)!&amp;quot; in at least 3 different languages. You never know when those phrases will come in handy.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;strong&gt;#4&lt;/strong&gt; DO bring hand sanitizer! One city, thousands of people from around the world with germs &lt;em&gt;from&lt;/em&gt; around the world. Enough said. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;strong&gt;#5.&lt;/strong&gt; Don't fear the alley restaurants! Better deals, meals, and service than what you would get at the more prominent restaurants lining the main streets, are to be had by diving off the main thoroughfares. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;strong&gt;#6.&lt;/strong&gt; Plan for the unexpected. Our train was supposed to depart at 5:40pm but was delayed till 7:20pm. Thankfully, there was a very big McDonald's at the train station. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;strong&gt;#7.&lt;/strong&gt; Just because a guide book says something is worth seeing, most of the time it's the outside of said 'must-see' that's the main draw. Why pay some exorbitant amount of money to look at caved in ruins, when the outside is still intact and beautiful? Choose what you pay to see wisely....but &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;do&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; take the train wherever you go. It will save you parking nightmares and headaches. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;#8.&lt;/strong&gt; Always remember that, just like you, people are there to see as much as they can in only in day. People will get pushy, aggressive, and nasty. Its okay to occasionally jab a little &lt;em&gt;too&lt;/em&gt; hard when trying to make your way past extremely stubborn and impolite people. Besides, &lt;em&gt;they &lt;/em&gt;did it first!! But, being in the land of the Vatican and the Pope, maybe it would be better to turn the other cheek.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;Other than the pitfalls tourists inevitably fall into once in awhile, we had a great time. We saw some amazing sights, took great pictures, and will always refer to the rose debacle as &amp;quot;Incidente de Rosa&amp;quot;. When we returned home, our landlords asked us why we didn't stay in Rome for 2 days instead of just one. Well, you see....&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;font face="Textbook" size="4"&gt;&amp;#160;&amp;#160; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-165951453658562351?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/165951453658562351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=165951453658562351' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/165951453658562351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/165951453658562351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2008/10/how-not-to-do-rome-in-only-one-day.html' title='How NOT to do Rome in only One day.....'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/greeneyedmonkee/SOXrYXExd1I/AAAAAAAAAGw/ytEjybLNu98/s72-c/Abbyonthetrain_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-179975435873354516</id><published>2008-09-15T21:23:00.029+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T22:58:03.879+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Italy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Naples'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Oh they Say Back in Ol' Napoli.....</title><content type='html'>Fighting traffic and streets still made of cobblestone is enough to rattle anyone's teeth. When my husband and I decided to drag the kids into Downtown Naples for some history and people watching, we knew it would be crazy and hectic but we were really underestimating what was in store. While flipping &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFcMzXcAtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/sVuInBDHJ0E/s1600-h/drivingintoNaples.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247076415880037074" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFcMzXcAtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/sVuInBDHJ0E/s320/drivingintoNaples.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;through one of our many, many "Travel Italy" books, we discovered that downtown alone there were three different castles, a ton of museums, and more stuff to see than one could possible accomplish in one day. We hit the road and landed downtown approximately 20 minutes later. Now, I must interject here on just &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;how &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;hectic Italian driving in major cities actually is. Anyone who has ever driven in a major European country knows something or two about the crazy merging practices, the non-compliance with road signs or traffic signals, and the crazy bastards who just outright cut in front of you......or is that just Naples? Throw in insane mopeds, window washers who catapult themselves at your car, and the bus drivers who don't break, EVER, yes it can raise your blood pressure. Did I mention that some streets downtown are still made of cobblestone from around the 1600's? Yeah, your car's radiator and shocks will begin to hate you. Here you can see some of the chaos and the ratio of mopeds to cars in Naples:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-71420e7fd00984fa" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D71420e7fd00984fa%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329971560%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DE9C17D7A2C85CD4A3AECADD730CBAC527ADFC49.68BE3A048ACA253FE52E6773313C0AC9C294AB48%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D71420e7fd00984fa%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dj4G2pA1tqWeGr1a4BZrQknLxZyA&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v2.nonxt3.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D71420e7fd00984fa%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1329971560%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3DE9C17D7A2C85CD4A3AECADD730CBAC527ADFC49.68BE3A048ACA253FE52E6773313C0AC9C294AB48%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D71420e7fd00984fa%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dj4G2pA1tqWeGr1a4BZrQknLxZyA&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I grabbed my camera when we parked and filmed this)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we officially landed in the middle of the city, we decided to park our car along a sea wall. There we were able to walk along the water and enjoy the view of sail boats drifting dreamily along the water. It felt like it was seeing a movie turn into reality in front of my eyes. The boats, the water, the atmosphere.....the men walking around in speedos without shame.......yeah, we were in Europe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246948414903842162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNDnyKkkdXI/AAAAAAAAADw/zmX48rzRZkw/s320/sailboats.jpg" border="0" /&gt; While we walked, we watched people dive into the water from the sea wall while men fishing looked on cooly from their own spots on the rocks. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNDroEeHnPI/AAAAAAAAAD4/6rcWvnT_5Eg/s1600-h/boatsandpeople.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246952639513992434" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNDroEeHnPI/AAAAAAAAAD4/6rcWvnT_5Eg/s320/boatsandpeople.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Signs everywhere pointed out that, for a small fee (approx. 10 euro a person) you could take a quick tour of the bay in one of the many mini boats lined up at make shift docks along the sea wall. Although the thought of being able to drift on the ocean and see the sights from the water sounded tempting.....10 euro a person times 4 was a bit steep. Thankfully, our children forgave us quickly when we pointed to the castle that was now visible from where we now stood. Our oldest daughter, Ms. A, was excited at being able to see "a for real castle with real princesses and Queens." I asked, "what about the Kings?" She shook her head and said, "Nahhhh, just princesses and Queens live there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Ahhhh, so young and already a feminist......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246978329467358546" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNEC_bATDVI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/rFsetFpo-W0/s320/CastleDell%27Ouvo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Looming over the small part of the bay on which we stood, was Castle dell'Ovo. (The Egg Castle) This castle has its own inlet and a road that takes you onto the ocean. Walking up the road, we passed more sunbathers and when we got up to the castle itself, we realized that there were people were swimming in what was once the castles moat and landing. Kinda cool, you know, swimming in history....(yeah, i came up with that all on my own.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNECtlG_JeI/AAAAAAAAAEI/mAB_PAenW-I/s1600-h/swimminginhistory.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246978022942123490" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNECtlG_JeI/AAAAAAAAAEI/mAB_PAenW-I/s320/swimminginhistory.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;The whole time we walked towards the entrance to the castle our dear little girls begged to be let in the water. It &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; about 90 degrees outside that day, but in no way was I about to let my little girls go tredging through that water. It was filthy! Trash, debris, sand muck, and seaweed all drifted freely in that water among those sunbathers. As well as the cigarette butts that some people carelessly tossed in the water. Save your surroundings people!! (alright, rant is done)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Entering the castle, we immediately began looking for the rooms to see how history had been preserved. All along the walls leading up to reception, were poster boards describing the many leaders who had once lived within its walls, the way it was used in strategic positions during battles, the religious temples that once stood there before it was a castle, and about the excavations currently going on. When we got to the reception area, we were handed an iPod touch and told that the poster boards were it. No open rooms, no exhibits, 'but there was a lovely view from the top of the castle'.....whaaaaaaaat? But, on a positive side, there was a great view. The iPod touch they gave us explained in even more detail (in Italian) the history of the castle and its surroundings. It aslo had some pretty nifty music from Naples in the '30s. Here's me and my gals at the top of Castle Dell'Ouvo:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNESVbB0qsI/AAAAAAAAAEg/fdYn0fSt1Cw/s1600-h/ontopofthecastle2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246995200105294530" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNESVbB0qsI/AAAAAAAAAEg/fdYn0fSt1Cw/s320/ontopofthecastle2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(&lt;em&gt;note to self&lt;/em&gt;: &lt;strong&gt;Burn red tube top&lt;/strong&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNESVJJepQI/AAAAAAAAAEY/ee-v_xLZShw/s1600-h/OntopOfTheCastle.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246995195305567490" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNESVJJepQI/AAAAAAAAAEY/ee-v_xLZShw/s320/OntopOfTheCastle.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(Our Posing petunias)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;After going through a roomless castle (well, a closed room castle) we decided to head back into town to see some more sites. I handed over the iPod to the receptionist, and we departed through the exit. 10 minutes and some cranky &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;and&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; hungry kiddos later, we found a pizzeria right smack dab in the middle of a large piazza that straddled not one, but five mojor historical buildings. Palazzo Reale, which holds the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Museo del Palazzo Reale &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(a collection of museum pieces from when the Museo was actually a set of royal apartments)&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFW0yT0S4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/7au3Xy9aG2g/s1600-h/MuseoPalazzoReale.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247070505721416578" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFW0yT0S4I/AAAAAAAAAEo/7au3Xy9aG2g/s320/MuseoPalazzoReale.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;(The Museo: In the niches of the museum are 8 of the most important Kings of Naples)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Biblioteca Nazionale&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; (a treasure trove of ancient papyruses from Herculaneum),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247072383400115218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFYiFNTfBI/AAAAAAAAAEw/K3DkWi8B-_o/s320/ChiesadiFrancesco.jpg" border="0" /&gt;and the &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chiesa di San Francesco di Paola&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; (a church built in 1817 by Ferdinand the 1st) . Next to this Palazzo is the beautiful &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Teatro San Carlo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; (an opera house built in 1737 and still in use today), and the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Galleria Umberto &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;(a large shopping gallery built to look like a magnificent glass atrium, which was opened in 1900). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The family stopped and ate what can only be described as 'ginormous' pieces of Neapolitan pizza, and walked around the Palazzo. We admired the statues of the kings, the grandeur of the buildings, and reveled in the history of everything around us. When we came to the entrance of the Galleria Umberto, the family did a collective gasp. It was as if you were walking into the 19th century, and doing it in style. The Galleria itself is a shopping mall filled with boutiques, major world famous fashion stores (Coach, Gucci, Sephora) and small cafes serving espresso and capuccinos. The building itself is what was the draw, not the overpriced jeans or handbags. Imagine shopping in a place that looked like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFag_wDhJI/AAAAAAAAAE4/xMSHzDjLg-k/s1600-h/GalleriaUmberto.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247074563778643090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFag_wDhJI/AAAAAAAAAE4/xMSHzDjLg-k/s320/GalleriaUmberto.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;(Everything in dark grey stone in the upper floors used to be luxury apartments when the galleria first opened. Now? Storage rooms and em&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFbKCb2oMI/AAAAAAAAAFI/M-fHrgWt8TE/s1600-h/Galleria3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247075268873855170" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFbKCb2oMI/AAAAAAAAAFI/M-fHrgWt8TE/s320/Galleria3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;pty spaces.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was hard to concentrate on anything but the awesome ceiling and the architecture of our surroundings, not to mention the floors! They were mosiac tile with the astrological signs placed directly under the main Atrium window in the center of the Galleria. Simply amazing, but sadly I have no proof of it as the camera ate my exposure....(bad camera!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Moving on down the street a bit, we decided to stop in at yet another pizzeria. (what can I say my kids have appetites!) This pizzeria was by far, my kids favorite. They had a pizza called "American Hot Dogs and Fries." And, funny enough, that's exactly what it was. A pizza topped with hot dogs and french fries:&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFecy6MOSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/eH6xqJdphx0/s1600-h/americanpizza.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247078889658530082" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFecy6MOSI/AAAAAAAAAFY/eH6xqJdphx0/s320/americanpizza.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;(So much for the idea that not every country thinks Americans thrive on greasy, unhealthy food! But there is good news on the hot dog pizza.....we were told only olive oil was used to deep fry the fries, and coat the pizza crust, oh! &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; as a topping on &lt;em&gt;top&lt;/em&gt; of the cheese. Oh goodie! It's a good cholesterol heart attack! Whew! Don't want to die in another country without the local oil congealed in my aortic valves as much as possible.....)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;In just the central area we were located (Palazzo Reale) we were able to walk around and see even more than we thought would be possible in one day. The side-streets alone were great to gawk at. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFhr86_LMI/AAAAAAAAAFg/APq1CgOK0lk/s1600-h/NeapolitanStreet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247082448579144898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFhr86_LMI/AAAAAAAAAFg/APq1CgOK0lk/s320/NeapolitanStreet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Mini cars parked so close they almost share bumpers, people strolling around yelling up at others leaning over the railings of their balconies and smoking, laundry hanging from nearly every clothesline available, and mopeds. Every street was the same with little variations in each. One street would be strictly moped central, and others would be the land of laundry hanging out to dry. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We continued to walk past life in the deep city of Naples, noticing that people who lived here rarely got a break from the noise of car horns, people shouting, traffi&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFjiF-PIWI/AAAAAAAAAFo/PuMU9s4Pzwg/s1600-h/mopedparking.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247084478233256290" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFjiF-PIWI/AAAAAAAAAFo/PuMU9s4Pzwg/s320/mopedparking.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;c, and the steady stream of mopeds. Why do I keep mentioning the mopeds? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;BECAUSE TH&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFkQWNLElI/AAAAAAAAAFw/8kurpudzPec/s1600-h/moremopeds.jpg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247085272864854610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFkQWNLElI/AAAAAAAAAFw/8kurpudzPec/s320/moremopeds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;EY ARE EVERYWHERE!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;After my moped rage had passed, we found the Castle Nuovo. A slightly smaller castle than the 1st we had visited, we were able to see it from the outside. The day we went, it was closed. (I'm starting to think we have no luck with castles....) &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247087515391920898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFmS4RSiwI/AAAAAAAAAF4/u_E1ptKzzZ4/s400/CastleNuovo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Although the castle wasn't open, to the side of the castle along a small path were a few "purse vendors." Basically, a guy who throws down a sheet or blanket with an array of &lt;em&gt;somewhat&lt;/em&gt; good quality knock-off handbags and belts. We saw Gucci, Prada, Chanel, Fendi, and Louis Vuitton. Although it would have been great to have a Louis Vuitton bag that had XL printed on it instead of LV......I passed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After all the walking around, lookie-looing, eating, people watching, and more eating, the family decided to call it a day. We headed back to the car exhausted but excited from seeing the many different places, buildings, and mopeds...... So our count at the end of the day came to this: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Number of Castles&lt;/em&gt;: 2 (well, 1 1/2 seeing as we only stood outside the 2nd, but at least we saw it!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Number of Pizza eaten:&lt;/em&gt; 2 slices each! (compared to American pizza, that's a looooooooot!) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Number of Historical Sights:&lt;/em&gt; Approx. 12. (Driving into Naples we also passed some pretty ancient buildings and arches) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Number of mopeds:&lt;/em&gt; Still counting......&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-179975435873354516?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=71420e7fd00984fa&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/179975435873354516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=179975435873354516' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/179975435873354516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/179975435873354516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2008/09/oh-they-say-back-in-ol-napoli.html' title='Oh they Say Back in Ol&apos; Napoli.....'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SNFcMzXcAtI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/sVuInBDHJ0E/s72-c/drivingintoNaples.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-6805073885944920058</id><published>2008-09-14T15:39:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T16:58:55.615+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Market day In Gricignano</title><content type='html'>I have a landlady, and friend, named Ana. She lives upstairs from my family and is always available for any of my questions, whether they be small or slightly pantomimed (She speaks no english, and I'm still in my early stages of Italian.) Ana has taken in my family as another branch on the tree of her own. With the dollar to euro conversion making our life a little interesting, I asked Ana where the best places to buy good quality fruit and vegetables for cheap were. She smiled and told me to wait till Thursday. When Thursday did come, I was summoned to the door bright and early at 8:30 by the doorbell. There Ana stood, ready to leave. "Vieni Dominique. Le Mercato!" (Come Dominique, the market!) I grabbed my purse and followed her to her Panda and climbed in. Down the road from where we lived was an entire market that had set up in the matter of hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0VDmeZ_FI/AAAAAAAAABU/tuy-FktZ_Ug/s1600-h/People-in-the-Market.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245872292568366162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0VDmeZ_FI/AAAAAAAAABU/tuy-FktZ_Ug/s320/People-in-the-Market.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The place was a maze of tables and tents, people, merchandise, smells, and a colorful array of voices shouting to the passing customers. No loudspeakers are allowed. Vendors must shout to get your attention, and yell over the other vendors. It gets heated, but usually ends in a laugh from the vendors and customers. Stalls are set up so that merchandise of the same kind are next to one another. Clothes down one row of tables, food and produce vendors down another.&lt;br /&gt;With Ana leading the way, she headed straight for the produce vendors. She knew all of them by their first names, and even scolded a few for attempting to charge a little more than usual. I told Ana that I was a little worried because I only had 8 Euro in my purse. She snickered and waved her hand at me, as in, "Don't worry!" And pointed at the signs lining the table. ".80 euro 1 kilo" "4= 1 Euro" and so on. When I realized that it was extremely cheap she smiled and said, "Capito?" (understand?) I nodded and we shopped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM53m2WmpTI/AAAAAAAAADE/xdrp1IKKYuI/s1600-h/Market1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246262125242262834" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM53m2WmpTI/AAAAAAAAADE/xdrp1IKKYuI/s320/Market1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the equivalent of $4 (2.50 Euro) I bought 1 kilo (2 pounds) of plum tomatoes, 1 kilo of fresh green beans, and 5 bell peppers ranging in colors from green to red.&lt;br /&gt;Highly impressed at the quality and amount that I got, I asked Ana what was next. She crooked her finger at me and took me across the way to the cheese and Salami vendor. Who didn't hesitate to smile for the camera. &lt;a title="view Cheese and Salami Vendor" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbXlidC5idWRnZXR0cmF2ZWwuY29tL2tpY2thcHBzL19DaGVlc2UtYW5kLVNhbGFtaS1WZW5kb3IvcGhvdG8vMTM5ODM5MC8yMTg2NC5odG1s"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a title="view Market in Naples, Italy" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbXlidC5idWRnZXR0cmF2ZWwuY29tL2tpY2thcHBzL19NYXJrZXQtaW4tTmFwbGVzLUl0YWx5L3Bob3RvLzEzOTgzNzkvMjE4NjQuaHRtbA=="&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the Cheese Vendor (where Ana and I both passed on buying anything due to the lack of need for it) we moved on to the vendor next to him. The Olive Vendor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0WubAm3CI/AAAAAAAAABk/_91uozMUs7U/s1600-h/Olive-Vendor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245874127736593442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0WubAm3CI/AAAAAAAAABk/_91uozMUs7U/s320/Olive-Vendor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In America, Olives are pretty costly. A pound will easily set you back about $10. Here that would be highway robbery. Olives are sold from gigantic buckets filled with all flavors, colors, varieties, and preference. Some are even marinated in garlic with hot pepper flakes for those more adventurous. For around 2 Euro, you can easily walk away with an entire pound. Which is exactly what Ana happily did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next, Ana decided that for her family's dinner &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0XCHg83HI/AAAAAAAAABs/gkV01XXeoa8/s1600-h/Fish-Display.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245874466100927602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0XCHg83HI/AAAAAAAAABs/gkV01XXeoa8/s320/Fish-Display.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;she would make some fresh seafood (A staple in Neapolitan cooking). We perused the selection on a nearby table, but due to my squimishness on having to descale, debone, and gut my own fish.....I passed. Prawns are sold whole, as well as anchovies. The buckets that got my attention though were not the ones filled with finned things...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="view Octupi for dinner?" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbXlidC5idWRnZXR0cmF2ZWwuY29tL2tpY2thcHBzL19PY3R1cGktZm9yLWRpbm5lci9waG90by8xMzk4NDAzLzIxODY0Lmh0bWw="&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM5zLXdATXI/AAAAAAAAACU/A-zwdOF1BuE/s1600-h/Octupi2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246257255044631922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM5zLXdATXI/AAAAAAAAACU/A-zwdOF1BuE/s320/Octupi2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The buckets lining the table we were at held Octupi, baby octupi, whole squid, fresh mussels, and clams. I opted to buy 1 kilo of the mussels or 'Cozze' as they are called in Italy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1 Kilo cost me only 2.50 euro, and I already had the makings of a great dinner in my shopping bags. With 3 euro still left in my pocket we walked around for a few more minutes, looked at fruit from a few other vendors, and I was asked many many times to take pictures of the vendors. Soon shouts of vendors prices turned into shouts for me to come take their photos.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(Salami and Cheese Vendor):&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245875847881792210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0YSjDLmtI/AAAAAAAAAB8/DDTQkwaA8As/s320/Formaggio-and-Salami-man.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM53UVcUFhI/AAAAAAAAAC8/17XYkR60qYY/s1600-h/market2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246261807170197010" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM53UVcUFhI/AAAAAAAAAC8/17XYkR60qYY/s320/market2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fruit Vendor:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246255084843220786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM5xNC0qvzI/AAAAAAAAACE/SJ-8f37eGiE/s320/Happy-fruit-Vendor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once Ana decided that she had purchased enough from the market, she decided that our next stop should be the Macelleria (Butcher). I nodded, but I was quite sure that 3 Euro wouldn't really purchase enough to make a meal out of. Especially when I'd seen meat at the local supermarkets reach upwards of 5 euro for a pound of meat and not a kilo. When we pulled up outside the shop, Ana quickly got out of the car and walked through the plastic beaded curtain (no doubt to keep the flies out) at the entrance of the shop. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once inside, she pulled a number from the que and waited and watched as other Italian ladies told the three hardworking butchers inside their orders. Some of them were pretty specific about the cuts of meat, and Ana stood behind them curiously watching them, and then from time to time would sigh exasperated at their words. When Ana's number was called, she charged to the display case and looked at her choices....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="view Waiting for the         &amp;10;butcher" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbXlidC5idWRnZXR0cmF2ZWwuY29tL2tpY2thcHBzL19XYWl0aW5nLWZvci10aGUtYnV0Y2hlci9waG90by8xMzk4NDA4LzIxODY0Lmh0bWw="&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM51uQTNKjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/YrDeycrZbXA/s1600-h/Ana-in-the-butcher-shop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246260053443160626" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM51uQTNKjI/AAAAAAAAAC0/YrDeycrZbXA/s320/Ana-in-the-butcher-shop.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I for one, have never been big on ordering straight from the butcher at the meat department in Grocery stores, or even gone to a specialty butcher. Here it's common place to order from the butcher rather than go to the Supermercato where the price can be doubled and sometimes tripled. Ana pointed out the different cuts of beef in the display case and ordered her family a set of thinly sliced steaks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="view The  &amp;10;array of meat at the butcher shop" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbXlidC5idWRnZXR0cmF2ZWwuY29tL2tpY2thcHBzL19UaGUtYXJyYXktb2YtbWVhdC1hdC10aGUtYnV0Y2hlci1zaG9wL3Bob3RvLzEzOTg0MTAvMjE4NjQuaHRtbA=="&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM50okv9nII/AAAAAAAAACs/qVWpqXg-8t8/s1600-h/Ana-and-the-butcher.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246258856341642370" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM50okv9nII/AAAAAAAAACs/qVWpqXg-8t8/s320/Ana-and-the-butcher.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(American steaks are something of an oddity to Neapolitans. Meat is to be enjoyed, not gorged on! At least that's what she tells me...) I'll admit after standing in there, I could see why you would opt for the butcher store rather than the supermarket. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM50BVtgfWI/AAAAAAAAACc/XkJ3ny_djTE/s1600-h/Meat-at-the-butchers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246258182289915234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM50BVtgfWI/AAAAAAAAACc/XkJ3ny_djTE/s320/Meat-at-the-butchers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a title="view Watching the Butcher's  &amp;10;cut" href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vbXlidC5idWRnZXR0cmF2ZWwuY29tL2tpY2thcHBzL19XYXRjaGluZy10aGUtQnV0Y2hlcnMtY3V0L3Bob3RvLzEzOTg0MDUvMjE4NjQuaHRtbA=="&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The butcher knew Ana by name, and even asked if she wanted her "Usual". Likewise, she called him by his first name, which is Vittorio, and even had him pose for me:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246258726494136162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM50hBB552I/AAAAAAAAACk/jGoqgf__X-E/s320/Vittorio-the-Butcher.jpg" border="0" /&gt;By the time my number had been called, I asked about the abundant cuts of chicken in the display case. Vittorio told me in his best english that an entire hind leg section, including some of the chest was only 2.80 Euro. Perfecto! I asked him to wrap one up for me, and when we left he asked me to come back again, which I will most definitely do.&lt;br /&gt;On the way home Ana asked me how I enjoyed myself. I began to tell her that in no way would I have ever been able to buy as much as I had for so little in the states. The chicken would have been around $7, the vegetables an easy $10 and the seafood? Who knows! So for the amount of 8 Euro I was able to buy a week's worth of vegetables, and two night's worth of meat and seafood. Not to mention the fun time I had just taking pictures and experiencing the culture. Next week I'll be going back to see what I can get for another 8 Euro... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-6805073885944920058?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/6805073885944920058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=6805073885944920058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/6805073885944920058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/6805073885944920058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2008/09/market-day-in-gricignano.html' title='Market day In Gricignano'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/SM0VDmeZ_FI/AAAAAAAAABU/tuy-FktZ_Ug/s72-c/People-in-the-Market.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3792665224154811951.post-1444570451470279522</id><published>2008-09-14T15:13:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T15:39:18.198+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Our New Home</title><content type='html'>The adventure has begun! In April of this year, my family and I moved to Naples, Italy. So far we have seen some amazing sites, dealt with major culture shocks, and adjusted our palates accordingly. I'm not going to lie, sometimes we've been left completely perplexed over Italian lifestyle and traditions. Around where we live in Naples, the local population is in the habit of shooting off fireworks for everything, at all hours of the day and night. It could be 10am and you will hear fireworks exploding nearby. During religious festivals, 6am on Sundays seem to be the normal showtime. Yeah, sleeping in on Sundays during peak holiday seasons just doesn't happen around here.....&lt;br /&gt;     In the four months since moving here, we have traveled North and South. We have seen Florence, Pisa, Amalfi, Sorrento, Naples, Umbria, Perugia, and Paestum. This isn't just a blog about a family traveling around Italy, this is a blog that shows you &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;how&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; we traveled around Italy and beyond, and how we &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;live&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; the Italian lifestyle. With a 5 and 3 year old, my husband and I have had to learn through trial and error on how to keep kids interested in history, travel, and long car rides.&lt;br /&gt;     I hope that you enjoy reading about our family adventures, travels, and learning curves!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3792665224154811951-1444570451470279522?l=findingitaly.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/feeds/1444570451470279522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3792665224154811951&amp;postID=1444570451470279522' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/1444570451470279522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3792665224154811951/posts/default/1444570451470279522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://findingitaly.blogspot.com/2008/09/our-new-home.html' title='Our New Home'/><author><name>DominiqueH</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15890230656436727871</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xg6eub-rpTs/S-V488ksJmI/AAAAAAAAAQc/Iu0CBueVB9g/S220/IMG_3235.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
