adventures with mama graham part 7

Since 007 had to leave for a work trip to an undisclosed location in Africa on Friday, Graham and I were left to entertain ourselves for the weekend.

So, naturally, we got on a boat (after driving to the port and unsuccessfully finding a parking spot and driving back to the train station to take a train to the port) and went to Procida.



Procida is a tiny island nestled in between the two bigger ones, Capri and Ischia. Since it is so tiny and less popular than the big ones, all the reviews I read promised that it would not be too crowded.



I guess I should have read the reviews a bit more carefully, because it was crowded. With locals, that is, rather than with tourists. Just like the reviews promised.

Yes. All Italian men wear speedos.

We ponied up to a tiny spot in the sand and had ourselves a grand 'ol time playing in the sand and waves.



What really made the day a success, though, was that Graham found himself another stick for his collection. Yes, that's right. He is a collector of sticks. He'll find one and play with it for awhile, and then ask his dad or I to carry it for him. This time, I made him carry his own stick. He didn't mind. He used it as a walking stick, which came in handy when we had to do some walking from the train to the car.

Graham always like to sit on the inside of ferry boats, because he loves the tables. I prefer to be outside with the view, but sometimes I let him have what he wants.

 There is a pile of sticks in Graham's room. It's kind of interesting to think about where each of the sticks might have come from. There might even be one from Lisbon or Istanbul.  This, however, is what usually happens to them.



I find them scattered throughout the house in the most obscure places.

I guess it's just all part of the experience of being "Mama Graham."

And I wouldn't trade this experience for the world.

one year and one day

One year and one day ago, we first set foot in the land of Italia. To celebrate this milestone, here are some of my favorite Italian images I've captured and shared on this blog over the year.

Without further ado, and in no particular order, because order is just not something I do, here is a recap of our life in Italy thus far.

To be continued...

scenes from a fun (and very late) evening

Graham is still sleeping, because he was up later than he's ever been in his life last night. Leave it to a good, Italian family to get me to keep my kid up late. Not even my own family has been successful in convincing me to do this. I've always been strict about his bedtime. Right, Mom?


We got invited to our landlord's daughter's graduation party last night. She graduated with a "law degree."



The party started at 9pm, so we were there right on time. We definitely should have known better, because nobody else showed up until 10pm.



I considered getting a babysitter, but decided our landlords would probably kick us out of our house if we didn't take Graham to their party. They love Graham. They shower him with kisses.

 

Just as we were getting ready to leave at midnight, la Madre, Theresa, said, "No, no! Aspetta per la torta!" Which means, "No. Wait for the cake."



So we waited. And then we had to wait for every single person in attendance to "faccio uno foto" with the graduate. Including us. The tired Americans.

 

And, suddenly, we were leaving at one in the morning...

I hope Graham remembers this night forever, because Italians know the true meaning of celebration and how to enjoy it to the fullest.

A lesson all kids should learn and hold onto for as long as possible.

our 4th of July (a week late in telling)

It all began on an uneventful Monday morn in the tent of the Blaines on the Eastern coast of Italy after a night of makings s'mores and staying up way too late.

"Mom!" proclaimed the young boy.

"Yes dear?"

"I am all wet. I think I got really sweaty in the night."

"Uh-oh. Hmmm, let's see. Yep, you're wet alright. Wow. That is a lot of sweat. Hmmm, let me smell it. Oh. Dear. That smells like pee."

"I didn't pee! I didn't pee!"

"Okay, okay, well, it sure does stink, and I don't know how in the world we are going to clean it."

Suddenly, the always logical, good-looking, young father piped up and said, "We'll just have to take down camp and sleep somewhere else tonight. Like at an agritourismo or something. It will be fine. Let's go to the beach first, though."

"Great idea, Honey!"

"Yay! The beach! What's an agritourismo?" asked the boy.

"It's like a hotel on a farm," explained the father.

"Oh boy!"

So, the Blaines ventured off to the beach to enjoy a lovely morning of jogging and swimming until it was time for them to break down their stinky tent, load up, and head into the coastal town of Vieste.

While there, they wandered aimlessly and enjoyed the charming streets and beautiful views, but eventually grew tired and hungry and decided to set out to the mountains toward their next destination.

 

On account of the windy roads making the young mother nauseous and the fact that the boy had to pee several times, the family stopped far more times than anticipated.

After getting run off from one agritourismo for asking to stay just one night, rather than at least a week, the Blaines became discouraged when signs for more agritourismos suddenly stopped appearing on their route.

While deciding that maybe they would just have to stay in the next town, there appeared a sign for "Monte Sacro Agritourismo."

 

Bells were ringing, birds were chirping, and there was a sweet breeze in the air. The Blaines had solved their problem. Until, they read that the agritourismo was another six kilometers up a very steep and windy road. They became scared that perhaps this place would not rent them a room for just one night and didn't want to make the drive up for nothing. Not knowing whether to turn and make the accent, or keep going into the next town, the young parents did what they always tend to do when they cannot make up their minds. They asked their son, "What should we do?"

"Let's just... go up there," he decided.

And so they did. They went up there. They encountered herds of goats on the road. The young mother became more nauseous and hungry at the same time. All they could do was hope that the place would be open.

 

And they were. Open. And willing to give the Blaines a very comfortable room and an exceptional meal for the evening.

It was like staying at an Italian grandparent's home. It was like Heaven.



The next morning, the Blaines enjoyed a tour of the farm from one of the young farmhands.





They had to prematurely end the tour so that the farmhand did not destroy anything in his attempt to show off.



That is where the story ends, I guess. Seems kind of abrupt. Let's try a more soothing ending.

Here we go:

And so, my friends, that is how the Blaines came to spend their 4th of July in the middle-of-nowhere, Italy.

Of course, naturally, they lived happily ever after and dreamed of one day having an agritourismo of their own.



The end.