My sister and I are talking about the pounds we should have lost before traipsing off to Italy. All those beautiful Italians! She is up at 5:30, going for a run. It is 8:15 a.m. and I am writing this blog and drinking coffee. I am slow to wake up - what can I say?
The most wonderful part of this trip, for me, is the anticipation of seeing Holly's face when we first walk the streets of Florence, toward the Arno, crossing its banks with a view of the Ponte Vecchio (which means "old bridge" in Italian - I am wondering when it was given that name - it seems like quite the adjective in a place as old as Florence!) I recall seeing the Arno for the first time and my breath was literally taken away. I had never seen anything so beautiful and soft and old.
Now, I rush to finish my Italian Language CD's. I think I know just enough to make it worse than knowing nothing. I will speak as much as I can, but when they reply, I won't understand a word they say. It is all okay. They are so friendly for the most part. I will never forget last summer as I tried to buy a bottle of tonic for Lee - I found the small, individual bottles, but wanted a large one. I asked for a "tonica grosso" and the little Italian grocer looked at me and laughed, tilting, then shaking her head like she had no idea what I meant. I used my hands to indicate a "large" size. This time she got it. She laughed again - "Oh - grande. Grande."
I started laughing so hard I had the tears in my eyes thing. "Si, tonica grande. Non grosso." I had asked for "fat tonic" instead of "large tonic". I have some studying to do.