February 2008- Pisa, Florence, & Switzerland- Part IV

Ah! Finally! The last set of pictures from the Italy/Switzerland trip of last year. Now I only have to squeeze in all of March's pictures by...tomorrow. Who thinks that will happen?

Most of this set is more from Florence. These first two were taken from the rooftop cafe terrace inside the Ufizzi.

These next two were taken from the famous square, Piazzale Michelangelo, which, as you can see, has a fantastic view overlooking Florence. On the way up we had our second helping of gelato and realized we'd been waaaay fleeced as tourists the first time around. Our first sampling was on the famous Ponte Vecchio, a bridge spanning the Arno lined with shops of all varieties. We are pretty saavy travelers and should have known better than to buy something as touristy as gelato in a place as touristy as the Ponte Vecchio. I think we were charged something like 14 euro for two cones--something to the tune of $20 for a couple of scoops of ice cream. Yikes! The prices weren't listed and we were too sheepish to back out once we had the cones in hand. Anyway, the next day we stopped for more on the walk up to the Piazzale Michelangelo and when the woman held up 4 fingers, I fished out 8 euro, thinking we'd found a deal on two cones. No, no she gestured--4 euro for BOTH cones total, not each. We got MUCH more gelato for WAAAAAY less. Live and learn.

We almost didn't make the trek up the hill in the first place, actually. I had to beg Justin to walk up to the piazzale--it's kind of out of the way, and obviously uphill. His default setting is resistance when it comes to "adventures," but is always agreeable once I get him going. He would much prefer to be curled up snug at home with a good book or writing. I am really a homebody at heart too, but I do enjoy traveling and a good adventure.

We knew this about eachother, but we also learned a valuable lesson during this trip, as illustrated by...

THE PARABLE OF THE MATTERHORN!!!!

(to be said loudly

and with an eerie echo)

Ok, so the THE PARABLE OF THE MATTERHORN!!!! begins innocently enough. We checked out of our hotel in Pisa and started the day trying to find the Army installation, Camp Darby, that is nearby. We wanted to make a pit stop there to pick up gas coupons so that we could avoid paying through the nose for gas on the Italian economy. Unfortunately, Camp Darby is not well signed and we got lost, not having an address to put into the GPS. It took a couple of hours longer than we had planned and by the time we'd FINALLY found the darned place and filled up on gas, we were way off schedule and a bit frazzled.

The inital plan was to drive back through Switzerland at a leisurely pace, taking in the beautiful and scenic views of the Alps and breaking that night near Lucerne. Easy. I had, maybe a bit ambitiously, hoped to see both the Matterhorn and drive through Interlaken as well. It was going to be maybe a 7 hour driving day, but that's not too much for me.

My problem, however, is that I plan for the "best case scenario" and in the face of reality I will often Pollyanna my way into trouble. Having had such a delayed start, we should have nixed the Matterhorn, but I just couldn't. I COULDN'T! I figured we were never going to make a trip back to Europe just to see the Matterhorn, and it was oh so famous--our lives would certainly be imcomplete without witnessing it and all of its glory in person. To be SO close (relatively) and NOT see it was certainly a crime. Here's where our default settings got us into trouble. Justin was sitting there arguing against going to see the Matterhorn. It's too far away. We don't have enough time. All I heard, however was Waaaaaaaaaaaa! I want to go home! Not another stop! Thinking it was just another instance of having to drag him kicking and screaming to do something fun, I insisted. So, we plugged in the town closest to the Matterhorn into the trusty GPS, and we set off.

On the way there we passed some truly amazing views. Where are those, you might ask? Oh, I don't have any pictures of those. The camera was quickly losing its battery charge and I wanted to make SURE I had enough juice to capture the Matterhorn in all of its glory, so I kept the camera tucked away in my bag as we wound our way through sunlit, snowcovered mountain tops that would take your breath away. It felt like we were high enough to be flying, but the mountains were so dense and the roads wide, so there was no sense of vertigo. I'm not particularly afraid of heights, but I have my limits...as you will see...

The drive was taking longer than expected. We got stuck behind some big trucks going super slow, and I'm just not comfortable passing at breakneck speed around blind mountain curves. I know, crazy, right? Well, the Swiss thought so. The locals traveled at frightening speeds and were really agressive and obviously irritated by those who weren't with the program. At the point when it became clear that our projected ETA was slipping later and later toward the evening, we should have called the stop off as a lost cause and replugged the GPS with a new destination. We were traveling out of our way at this point, headed west when we needed to be going north. I can be really stubborn though.

I had in my mind's eye an idyllic image of the Matterhorn. Something like this:

I'd seen pictures of the Matterhorn in the course of my research for the trip and was really taken by the view. In my head, we were simply driving close enough to see it soaring into the sky from the valley below, towering above its surroundings and dwarfing everything around it, and then we could course correct and be on our way. Just a little bit further. Any mile now, we'd turn a corner and see it on the horizon. I'd snap my picture, breathe in the moment, and we could be off.

That's not what happened.

We kept driving, and driving, and driving, and before long, we were getting really close to the endpoint on the GPS, but still there was no soaring Matterhorn.

It's funny how you can be climbing in altitude, but if it's a gradual ascent, you'll hardly notice. I'm not sure how high up we had gone, but suddenly, we were UP in the mountains. And then we were committed. We found ourselves on a NARROW, winding road, on the side of the mountain, WITH NO RAILING and no where to turn around. The Swiss were still zooming around like their houses were on fire, and then...it got worse. The road narrowed again and became two way. I'm not kidding. With the sunlight starting to fade, you'd come around a corner and find yourself nearly nose to nose with an on coming car. Every few hundred yards there was a shoulder just wide enough to allow two cars to barely scrape by, but if you didn't happen to meet at that point or with enough time to plan for the circumstance, one of the two vehicles was forced to BACK UP a few hundred yards on the winding mountain-side rail-less roads of DEATH.

At this point Justin was struggling hard not to say "I told you so" and I was cursing the name of the Matterhorn and thinking this had better be worth it. My knuckles were white from clutching the steering wheel and I was not having ANY fun.

After what seemed like an eternity of this--it was probably only 10-15 minutes in actuality under those conditions, we came to our destination. I'd like to tell you that it was all worth it; that the experience was life-changing and that, despite the hard road there, that view was indescribable.

It was indescribable, alright:




After all of that, only the topmost blip of the crummy thing stuck out over a tree. We could barely see it because of all the other blasted mountains. We must have just been on the wrong side of the thing, because the view from where we were sucked. It was so disappointing, all we could do was sit there and laugh. I think we let Chokydar out to pee on the thing and then got back in the car, dreading what lay ahead: the drive back down the road of death. By that time it really was getting quite dark and we still had about 3 hours of driving if we made straight for the hotel. Sorry, Interlaken, trying to squeeze you in was waaaaaaaaaaaay out of the question.



I felt really pretty foolish at this point and very disappointed. We'd been driving for at least 8 or 9 hours by then and it was past dinner time by far. We stopped at a McDonald's not wanting to waste time getting to the hotel and struggled ordering, Justin shouting German across me into the speaker box. Having eaten things were looking marginally better. The acursed Matterhorn was more than 2 hours behind us and we were closing on the hotel fast. The GPS was taking us off the beaten track to give us the fastest route, winding through smaller towns through the mountains. Have I mentioned lately that we were driving through the Swiss Alps? In the middle of February? In a 1999 Toyota Corolla? At 10 pm? While I'm nearly 5 months pregnant? Okay, just making sure.

Had I said ANY of that outloud during the planning stages of this trip, of course I would have realized that it was a bad idea. A VERY bad idea. I didn't though, and I had brushed off Justin's admonitions as him being a wet blanket. So there we were, trying to make the best of a bad situation, telling ourselves only a few miles left. By the GPS estimate, we were a mere 30 minutes away from a warm bed.

And then the unthinkable happened. As we drove through this tiny Swiss town, covered in snow that had been building all winter we wound a corner and the GPS chimed out "Turn left now!" Blinking, I strained my eyes. Justin and I looked at eachother in disbelief and attempted to make the situation not so by sheer force of will. There was no place to turn left. Well, there should have been, except that the road was completely snowed in. Entirely impassable. We drove up and down the block several times, hoping that there was another way through, but there was not. From the road we were on, you could look through the trees beyond the snowed in road and see the lights of cars whizzing by on a major interway off in the distance. We were SO CLOSE but there was no way to get through that road, and without a map detailing Teenytiny-backwoods-town, Switzerland, we were more dependent on the GPS than we should have been. Trying to stay calm, we back tracked a ways and attempted to get the GPS to recalculate another route. It doggedly kept directing us back to the snowed in path.

We pulled over in the parking lot of a closed restaurant and by the car's dome light Justin began examining our physical map to see where the closest major road was. The verdict? Two hours back the way we had just come. Back towards the Matterhorn.

I wanted to cry.

With the delay of having to backtrack halfway across Switzerland, Justin projected that we wouldn't be getting to our hotel in Lucerne until close to 3 am. We'd been driving for nearly 12 hours, and the sickening thought dawned on me that, had we driven directly from Pisa to Germany, we would be home by then. Having little choice, we set out, back the way we came.

The idea struck me along the way, as I searched in desperation for a way to end the nightmare in which we found ourselves, that we might be able to switch our hotel reservations from the Ibis in Lucerne to the one in Bern, thereby cutting off several hours of the journey that night. It was a gamble, not knowing if the hotel in Bern would have room, but we were getting desperate. Justin looked up the Ibis in the GPS's index and plugged it in.

I left the car running at the curb as I stumbled in to explain our situation at the front desk and ask, trembling, if we'd be able to stay the night. After making a phone call to the other hotel and checking the computer and calling over the manager, we were told "yes." I can think of few times I've been as relieved as I was at that moment.

The next day, Justin was keen to put the entire ordeal behind us and head straight home. "But we've never seen Bern!" I exclaimed. He shot me a look like I was crazy.

"Okay, okay," I gave in. He took this picture for me of the historic district as we drove by on our way out of town.

So, now in our family, a really bad idea is called "Pulling a Matterhorn" and we've learned a very valuable lesson about listening to one another, especially in situations when we have strong opposing feelings. We've also learned not to drive through Switzerland in the dead of night, in the dead of winter, after a day's journey back through Italy, nearly 5 months pregnant, in a 1999 Toyota Corolla without a reserve supply of gasoline or food. I am SO grateful it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Definitely Pulling a Matterhorn.

Sloppy face girl

Meal time is very, very messy. Evelyn "helps" me feed her and often resorts to putting her fist in her mouth as well, just to make sure the food stays in. Then of course, what are you to do if your nose or eye itches? Hence, rice cereal face girl. It's in her hair, it's in her nostrils. She's thrilled.

Tonight she was eating peas. She's discovered that if she does her raspberry noise while there is food in her mouth, mommy gets a nice pea shower. Joy. It was actually pretty hilarious, and I sat there cracking up as she covered me with shots of pea splatter. Gross, I know. I agree.

It's against my nature to let her get this messy. I want to control the chaos and wipe her face off after every third spoonful. I'm stopping myself, however, because I'm thinking of lessons I hope to impart to her, one of which is, "It's okay to get really messy." Sometimes in life, you'll miss out if you don't, and you can always clean off again. In fact, it makes getting clean even more enjoyable.

GAARRH!

If it weren't the end of the day it wouldn't have been so annoying.

Evie has been going to bed (and by this I mean, in her crib rather than the swing...she usually has a "pre-bedtime nap" that is in the swing around 7 or 8) around 10 and as late as 11ish lately. It's been working great and she sleeps basically through the night, usually waking once sometime between 3-7 am. Well, I started thinking that maybe this was putting her to bed too late, and tonight, when she was showing signs of sleepiness around 9, instead of doing the usual routine, I decided we'd start the bedtime ritual a tiny bit earlier.

Really, it might have turned out ok--I'll never know--because after 3 diaper changes, 3 outfit changes, and re-fitting the bed with sheets she was awake and I was exhausted.

I first noticed that her diaper had sprung a leak when I took her in to read a story. It was weird because it was really a fresh diaper. She'd only been in it maybe 20 minutes. I thought it was a fluke until it happened again. My first thought was that the liner in the cloth diapers was misaligned or something, and therefore wasn't doing the super job absorbing that I've come to expect. After the leak happened the second time I ruled this out. The problem was something much more sinister than a misaligned pad...

I'm pretty positive the diapers have lost their absorbency because of the diaper cream I've been using. I knew I wasn't supposed to use diaper rash cream with them, but I did anyway after a particularly ugly rash Evie got about a month and a half ago. I'd tried just changing her more frequently, but when it didn't seem to be getting better, I starting applying a cream. The cream did the trick, but at a price, obviously.

GRRRRrrrRRRrrr

So here I am, 11:30 at night, with a load of clean diapers that are probably all just going to gleefully repel anything Evie tries to gift them. The only disposables I have on hand she's outgrown.

I know what we'll be doing tomorrow, first thing possible: an early morning commissary run for a temporary stock of disposable diapers and Dawn original dish soap, which supposedly is a remedy to use in "stripping" cloth diapers of this diabolical residue build up.

Boo.

Are you finished yet?

Last night Julia and I went to Chili's. Although I worried how she would handle it, Evelyn behaved marvelously (at least until the last few minutes...we'll get to that in just a bit...). Evie just soaked in the noises and movement in the dimly lit restaurant, wide eyed but calm. She spent some time in her car seat and also "sat" in my lap.

Our waitress came to the table almost immediately after we were seated and asked if we were ready to order. I really knew what I wanted, but the abruptness with which she showed up questioning us took me by surprise and we asked her for a few more minutes. She dropped her pad and quickly strode off. When she came back a few minutes later and prompted us again, I requested the Turkey Combo. It's one of my favorites at Chili's and usually what I order. I was especially craving it last night.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you. We're out of turkey," the waitress blurted.

I thought she was kidding.

"We're also out of iced tea, draft beer, and Jack Daniels."

"Jack Daniels? Great, that ruins my evening," I said, bouncing Evie on my lap.

But seriously, they were out of turkey. I very nearly gave her a hard time by asking for the Cajun turkey sandwich instead, but thought better of it. I ordered a burger.

We were working on dinner with Evie more or less cooperating. She began to be fussy in the car seat at one point, so I held her while working on the burger one handed. It's a wonder that all mothers aren't ambidextrous after a few months. I was eating more slowly because of this arrangement and there was still maybe a quarter of my burger and more than half of the fries remaining when our waitress, Speedy Gonzales, showed back up and asked if we were finished. Julia and I had talked earlier about getting dessert, so I just let her take my plate. In one swift move she'd cleared the plates, laid down our bill on the table and was gone.

About this time Evie was getting really tired, but there was no way she was going to fall asleep in the hustle of the restaurant without a little help. I'd brought my nursing cover and diaper bag this time (lesson learned from the Thai restaurant), so we commenced the awkward juggle I have not yet mastered that is nursing in public. Evelyn was happily eating and the waitress came back, expecting us to have paid and instead we ordered a dessert--the chocolate chip brownie thing they have with ice cream and walnuts and mmmmm.....

In another minute it arrived, and since I was still occupied, Julia slowly started in on dessert. She was taking her time since I couldn't yet dive in, but even after Evie finished we weren't wolfing it down. I laughed and remarked how when Justin and I order a dessert to split, there's none of the dainty restraint Julia and I were showing. Justin and I usually dive in and sometimes duel spoons at the end to see who gets the last bite. (He always lets me win.) Julia said it was the same way with her husband, and still there we were, trying to be quite lady-like and restrained with one another. ;) We continued nibbling, thoroughly enjoying ourselves and in no particular rush.

"Are you finished with that?"

The waitress had popped out of nowhere and was reaching for the plate, about a third of the brownie thing still perfectly intact. Julia and I reflexively lunged forward, shielding the plate and blurted, "No!" Ahem..."No, no, I don't think we're quite finished yet."

Once we actually were finished, I decided that I'd better check Evie's diaper before we headed home. The evening had gone so well, I didn't want to spoil it by discovering a leak halfway to the car. I gathered my precious baby up in my arms and made my way to the rear of the restaurant where I saw that there was a room especially for changing babies. Cool. As I opened the door we stepped out of the relaxing glow of the barely lit restaurant and into the cruel and stark world of the florescently lit changing room. Evie looked up to see not her mother, but a horrifying ax murder who had assumed my form. Seriously, the look on her little face was one of pure terror and shock and I INSTANTLY regretted going into the room. If I were to do it over again, at that moment I would have walked right back out--maybe she would have calmed back down. Instead I pig-headedly thought she was just mildly started and would settle down as I changed her. Not. The. Case. She screamed with more fury and intensity than I have ever heard from her, and like I said, it wasn't just any old cry--she was terrified. I tried cuddling her and rocking her, and even did a little impromptu nursing standing right there in the changing station. I did the quickest diaper change in history and gathered her back up, still screaming bloody murder, hoping she'd calm down when we re-entered the restaurant. It helped a little, but at this point she was gone. I motioned to Julia that we were headed to the car. The commotion we caused as we left was considerable and I'm sure that some people wondered if they should call child protective services or if this was a ploy to get out of paying the bill.

It was only after we were back in the car and I nursed Evie once again that she calmed down. As I strapped her into her car seat she gave me a sleepy smile as if to say, "Oh! Thank God! It's you again! Where were you 10 minutes ago in the bathroom?" She doesn't seem traumatized by the event, but I think I'm scarred. I've never felt so helpless and horrible.

And I still want my turkey sandwich...

Better luck next time

Rookie Mom Rule No. 3: Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you just end up covered in poo.

Today was a good day. I got in half a workout and showered. Evie was in a good mood all day. I met with my good friend Loretta for coffee and my Friedman book came in the mail, along with a couple of new toys for Evelyn. Loretta invited me to go with her to Bible study tonight, and knowing I want to more deeply involve my faith in everyday life, I decided it was a good idea. Baumholder conspired against us with a chilly night of wind and rain, but Evie and I braved it for the sake of some fellowship.

Evelyn seemed to be enjoying herself, despite having gotten a little less sleep than usual because of our action packed day. ;) The group was just settling in to discuss passages from the book of Ruth when things started picking up, Evie wise. To be more specific, things with Evie started picking up, gastrointesinally-wise. My first clue was the extra wiggliness. Then Evie started to vocalize a bit. Next, I shifted her from my lap to shoulder and we had a burp. Not three minutes later, Evelyn decided to join the conversation--by means of her famous "percolating." Our friends over at Merriam-Webster would remind you that this action is defined as the process in which "a solvent oozes or trickles through a permeable substance." Evelyn's percolating had been named thus originally because it mimicked the sound of coffee being brewed. Tonight's percolating was closer to the Webster definition. Grossness factor aside, this kid has talent. Perhaps she couldn't resist showing off in front of a new group of people, but Evelyn achieved her all time blow out record tonight, covering not only herself in poo, but her dear mommy as well. I was mercifully wearing black, so the visible damage to the members of the Bible study was not so graphic. We rushed off to the ladies' restroom to do hazmat control. By the time we were once again presentable, Evelyn suggested that we call it a night because she was tired from all that poopin' and could use a nap. This, as well as the prospect of a shirt not covered in poo, seemed like a good idea to me, and we made our way home.