Italia

My husband is diligently, and FINALLY, planning our dream-trip to Italy. I admit I have been incapable of doing it myself. The Internet sites overwhelm me; the various touring companies confuse me. I get nervous. So I challenged him to “get it done”, and he’s doing it. With his usual meticulous approach to shopping, he has now been on a website called European Destinations since the wee hours of the morning. This is not his first visit to the site. He has consulted with Costco Tours, Perillo Tours, Soriano Tours and everyone we have ever known who has ventured there before us, and has returned to European Destinations armed with knowledge. He’s got us going to Venice, Florence, Rome and Sorrento with side trips to the Amalfi Coast, Pompeii, and I don’t know what else because he keeps saying I should come and look at what he has planned and when I get there he says he’s not ready. He has thrown out several oohs and ahs when encountering such ideas as taking our rented car and doing the Amalfi Coast on our own, a bicycle trip through Tuscany and touring Florence on the back of a Vespa, prompting me to think he is planning the “50 Ways to Die on your Trip to Italy” tour. Not a bad way to go when you think of it.

Omigod, we did it! We’re going! We clicked to send, danced around the kitchen, called my mother, danced around some more. It’s not quite real to me yet. I mean, you don’t just dream about something for as long as I’ve dreamed about this and then just say, “Oh, okay, we’re going.” WE’RE GOING! And now… we’re shopping for an Italian language program.