Off we go - into the wild grey yonder!

By Rosebud -
Remember how I mentioned the storm clouds earlier? 

 :: sigh ::  

We had considered staying in Chiavari for an extra day in order to enjoy a bit more downtime.  Except for the rain.  So we went forward to brave the wet and weary roads to Assisi.  

 It's amazing how exotic the grey and cloudy skies of Tuscany...aren't.  (Bonus point to anyone who recognizes the reference.)

 We really should have enjoyed this.  Rain.  Bah.

Once we reached Assisi, we had the fun of a) trying to find a parking place and b) schlepping all our stuff up the street and hills from the car half a mile away.  I wanted to be wearing a sandwich board that said:  "This isn't my stuff.  The suitcase is my mother's, the bookbag is my daughter's, the grocery bag is our dinner, and only the backpack is mine."  But humility should be cultivated.

The hotel was a fantastic place - classically Franciscan with hard beds and old fixtures (including showers that spray at a 90* angle, drenching the entire bathroom but not the person in the shower.) but with fun people and good food and good wine.   The staff at the hotel/restaurant were hilarious and really loved the kids.

 They had to put half the tables in the restaurant together to fit us.

 Jonathan finally got his pesto.

This next picture needs some back story.  In preparation for this trip, I worked on learning some Italian.  Now, I'm fairly handy with languages and can usually follow sermons and such - because they are slow and on one particular topic - and can even have some simple conversations - with appalling grammar, of course - but I'm nothing even resembling semi-fluent.  However, Nadia (the hotel owner) is so friendly, she kept trying to have conversations with us (meaning me).  With a lot of hand motions and changes of words [wanting to say:  Yes, all five children are ours.  This is my niece.  Saying:  ummm I... no, my five children - I and him.  That there my granddaughter.  No, wait.  errrr, oh right it is granddaughter (which, in Italian, is nipote, the same word as niece.)] we muddled through.  Until I told her that my parents had ten children.  After the requisite gasp and shock and ooohs and aaaahs, she asked
"Quanti tacchini si mangia a Natale?"
"Scuzi?"
"Quanti tacchini a Natale? A mangia?"
"okay, how many somethings do we want to eat?  Wait - I thought her name was Nadia, not Natalie.  Scuzi?  I don't understand. What is tacchini? Is this how it's spelled?" (As I wander through the stone-walled restaurant trying to get phone coverage so I can look it up on Google Translate.)  

Nadia then ran off for a few moments to talk to the chef whose English is about as good as my Italian and came back with this piece of paper:


We all laughed till our sides hurt.  I especially like the phonetic spelling at the top "Au meni turkey iu it"      I informed her that we needed only two, but that they were VERY big ones.  She suggested perhaps 20 kilos each. (Roughly 45lbs)  


Just blame this couple here: 



 For moments like this:





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