Smash Landing

"Thank you for flying American Airlines- service to Venice. My name is Melania and it will be my pleasure to make this 9-hour transatlantic flight feel interminable. Before our beverage service begrudgingly begins, I will be doing shots of Tequila behind the curtain.   In the meantime, please take advantage of our complementary in-flight entertainment system which works for all 298 passengers on this aircraft with the exception of row 21. Thank you again for flying American Airlines, where we hate parents flying with small children more than we hate terrorists."

We were in row 21.

If you've seen the movie Under the Tuscan Sun with Diane Lane and all those beautiful, bohemian Italianos sipping Chianti and dripping with sexy accents, well, our lives are the exact opposite of that.  

Now calm down, it's Italia, I know.  And those cinematic days will come. So, by all means, hate us then.

Until the gondolier pictures flood your Facebook feed- I should set the record straight-  

Not all the wine is great. 

Italian men are super small and delicate

And my kids have had no vegetables in 8 days. Not one. 

So, here's the rest- uncensored (in the most Christian sense).

Rated PG

It took three cars- if you can call a Fiat a car- to shuttle us back from the Venice airport to Vicenza.  Like three, overloaded clown cars on the autostrada-  I may have packed 5 or 10 pairs of shoes. Maybe. Okay, I did.

The great thing about driving on Italy's autobahn is that an accident at 180 kilometers an hour in a Mini Cooper won't require the hassle of making an insurance claim. You're just dead. Pearly gates -fast-tracked. Dead.

The Vicenza base is -well- underwhelming. We arrived during a freakish heat wave and with poetic timing, the pool closed for two weeks.  Maintenance. Cursed maintenance.  Fortunately, my kids hate to swim when it's sunny and 90 plus degrees.  *insert eye-roll*

But at least we have a room with a view. And what a view! Indeed. Every morning, with the rising of the sun, I behold this staggering vista.

With the grace by which only Americans can decimate a language, we have taken a hatchet to conversational Italian.  Jason is the least best.  (can I just be honest about that?) His "grazie" rings more like "nazi." As for the rest of us- Eowyn will probably perform in the Verona opera. Kincaid pretends everyone still speaks English. And,  I just need a cigarette to carry off the language with better conviction.

In-processing has been a tad tedious much like a scavenger hunt game of Shoots and Ladders. Yeh. If it sounds both inexplicable and exasperating, then you would be great at this in-processing labyrinth.

Further, businesses are closed- like every time I need them not to be.   Between the afternoon siestas, prolific holidays and lengthy lunch breaks, it's a wonder the Italians find the time to squeeze in NATO summits. Apparently, wine covers a multitude of national indolence. At least here.  C'est la vie.

Amazingly, between all the naps,  the government still manages to exercise exorbitant control over the private sector.  Not only is it illegal to  spank your children, but the private citizen is kept un-armed. Italy makes California look like Texas. So, Mussolini for the win.

Today, I rode around town with a local realtor since we need to find a charming villa-stat! Hotel-living fun lasts as long as the mini shampoos do.

Anyhow, this lovely Italian lady began our afternoon by confessing that she was anxious to move away from Vicenza. The place we are looking to live. Perfecto!  With such a great start, I knew our escapade would be memorable. 

Here it is: So, I was sincerely interested in safety issues concerning the proximity of gypsy communities. My mom I had read some horror stories.  To which my realtor responded, "Ah, mama mia!!! Wella, I don't a want to say a not nice. . . but we want to a burn them aliva."

Burn. Them. Alive.

WHAT! Friends, you can not make this stuff up. 

In the next breath, she explained that she was not racist.  Similarly, I am not sarcastic.

*Cue the Dawson's Creek soundtrack*

~" I don't want to wait, for my life to be over." ~

Despite my whiny narrative, I am truly excited for this adventure.  In the words of Under the Tuscan Sun, "If you smash into something good, hold on until it's time to let go." Vicenza is our something good. We're holding on. 

Buena sera.

 At the trattoria de la hotel (translation: PB & J in our hotel room)