The genesis of this trip was a charity auction at work. A colleague of mine put their home in Northern Italy into the auction and I was fortunate enough to win the lot. It turns out that it is in the village (population ~450) that they grew up in – Their parents still live in said village and actually met us to hand off the keys. This is now the second time that I’ve had this experience though this auction – the first time being in central Italy around ‘the knee.’
From the first trip, we knew that this was a really special opportunity to see both an area of Italy that we might not otherwise think to see and to experience a small community that, as a tourist, you’d almost certainly not get a chance to visit.I’ll admit that it’s also a bit stressful because it’s a colleague and it’s their private home. I always try to be a good guest in someone’s home, but with a professional relationship, it just feels like a risk to both reputations if you screw up.
Anyway, we’ve been wanting to see Northern ITaly for some time and the chance to see the Dolomites was super exciting. We’ve planned several days of hikes and exploring the lake communities. but are probably a little light on ‘bad weather’ alternate plans – Let’s hope for sun!
Since we’re taking the overnight flight, travel day is a bit of a slow burn. We don’t have to be to the airport until the late afternoon. Knowing that we’re going to meet with the colleague’s parents to hand off keys, I feel awkward showing up empty handed even though I ‘paid’ for this stay. So, baking it is! In a bit of a ‘coals to Newcastle’ situation, I decided to make a batch of biscotti. In part because they sound good and in part because they travel well. I’m hoping that even if the parents are widely known for their own biscotti, the effort of homemade baked goods translates regardless.
As we board the flight and settle into our seats, the captain comes out to give an ‘announcement’ to first class – Apparently the forward bathroom is non-functional. He gives us the ‘choice’ of cancelling the flight or proceeding to Venice. And throws in a sexist joke about how us ladies will just have to hold off on painting our nails or dying our hair until we land so that the lines for the remaining first class restroom don’t get too long. He’s so pleased with this ‘joke’ that he goes on to tell it again a second time to the other half of the cabin. Cool cool cool.
We arrive in Venice with no further drama. The rental car area is, however, all drama, no chill. Lines everywhere, crying babies, yelling adults. And hot. So very very hot. I managed to put too much time between our landing time and our car reservation. The agent ‘gave’ me an alternate car, that was available despite my early pick up. I didn’t realize until we got on the road though that it was a class downgrade and I won’t get a refund for the difference. Oddly, they happily would have charged me the difference had I accepted the upgraded car they ‘offered’ instead. Ah well! I got the boarding crossing charge/information sorted – and totally forgot to ask about autostrada tolls. So I have to go back in and stand in line again to ask. For future reference, you just use the ‘get a ticket’ lane, not the auto lane. You get a toll ticket, then use a credit card to pay at your exit. Much more civilized than the ‘Pay by Plate’ in California that allows rental car agencies to tack on a ‘convenience fee’ for ‘allowing’ you to use the system.
We head to the village with jet lag weighing heavily. I stopped at a gas station just outside of town to text my colleague’s parents to let them know we’re almost there. As I look up, a Lamborghini pulls into the station. Then another. Then a Ferrari. Then another Lambo. Crazy!
Contact with parents made, we head into the village and find the parking spot. We call the mom, who says she’ll walk down to us. I think I know which house we’re going to, but I have no idea where mom is coming from so we sort of stand aimlessly in our stupor until we see her. She welcomes us, and apologizes, in flawless English, for her English. I apologize for our non-existent Italian. She walks us through the house showing us where everything is. I had off cookies and suddenly we’re on our own with our jet lag – We just have to make it three more hours and we can head to bed! We grab luggage, unpack, head to the local market for soda water, coffee, and nibbles for the night and settle in. 8pm bed time acheived!
Leave a Reply