For all its woes, the journey to, the transit through, and the flight from Heathrow couldn't have been better. We were having bloody marys in the lounge less than 90 minutes after leaving home. Well, at least I was. Michele needed to buy some good walking shoes. And a good thing she did, too, as we'll see later.
After the hustle and bustle of the world's busiest airport, Venice's Marco Polo seemed about as busy as the Scranton airport on a Sunday night in February. I had collected the bags before the kids were done with their post-arrival toilet. No trouble at the car rental, didn't even need those International Drivers Permits we agonized over getting (you can only get them in the US if you have a US license, which presents an obvious geographic challenge for us, since it's not like we can just pop over there).
Our first B+B, Villa Ariella in Codogne, north of Treviso, is lovely. It's a 18th century villa, and Patricia, the owner, was helpful and gracious. But as you might expect in a 300 year old house, it's pretty damn cold. The floor is marble tile, which is even damn colder. I think I have frostbite from it.
Last night's dinner was exceptionally tasty, but the kids were miserable. Well, mostly Caroline. She and I went to the grocery store instead of making her nap, which would have been a much better plan. We all ate apples and potato chips and parma ham from the store for a snack, thinking this would hold us until we could have a proper dinner. It didn't. We went to dinner at 7, which is about 2 hours too early by Italian standards, and were the only ones in the place.
Though the food was fantastic (I had venison stew with a sauce that included, I found out later, juniper berries), the constant whinging from the direction of our children made me a little testy. Ok, more than a little.
The water pitchers seemed specifically designed to pour water everywhere but in the glass, so both Michele and I managed to drench the tablecoth on more than one occasion. As if this weren't embarassing enough, Michael insisted on saying 'poop' every third word, and Caroline nearly fell asleep in her chicken.
They slept well.
This morning, after breakfast, the kids did some exploring in the back garden. Had we not insisted that we go sample at least some of what this generous land has to offer, I think they'd still be out there crushing snail shells.
we piled into our rented Mercedes (actually more like a Ford Focus, but comfortable enough) and set the GPS for a town called Asolo. What a lovely little town and well worth all the whining we had to listen to on the way.
One downside of Asolo is that it's pretty much straight uphill from the car park. And not just any hill, mind you, a great, huge, chest pain-inducing medieval hill. No wonder life expectancies then were about 15 years.
And once you reach the pretty little town and have a great big lunch, it's another few hundred feet up to the castle on top of the hill above town. Totally worth it, though, as the view of the mountains and surrounding countryside from up there was just amazing. Or maybe it seemed so cool because of the hallucinations brought on by lack of oxygen to the brain. Can't be certain.
Michael had a good nap this afternoon, and Caroline had a little snooze in the car, so we're all set for a late dinner. My Italian is somewhat limited, so I may or may not have made reservations, possibly for 4 people woth 2 children, and maybe for 8 o'clock tonight. Or I may have insulted the mother of the man who answered the phone. Again, can't be certain.
Now, off to dinner. Ciao!
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