April 27, 2001
"We're in Italy, how bad can it be?"

After a year and a half of planning, the day was finally here. We were going to Italy. Never in our wildest dreams did any of us think we would actually make the trip. But here we are putting our suitcases or should I say jamming our suitcases into the cab that was taking us to Miami. Miami is ninety miles away but we took the cab because we knew we'd be tired on the return trip and we didn't want to drive home. Besides, the cab driver is a friend and a known partier and we thought it would be more fun. It was. We stopped twice for champagne on the way down. By the time we arrived at the airport, neither Terri, Nikki or I were feeling any pain at all. We were having such a good time we nearly boarded a flight to Mexico. Luckily, we got on the right flight. Once on the plane we each took a Valium and didn't wake up till Munich.

Many hours later we arrived in Florence. We deplaned and were hustled into the baggage claim. There through the window I saw a handsome man holding a sign that said "Shela Villardi" printed in big block letters. "Be still my heart," I muttered as we waved happily to our driver. His name was Simon Minelle, but I was actually expecting Kenny and Lucy, who were assistants to our host, Count Filippo Fiorentini. Believe me I was just as happy to see Simon, actually, because after flying for ten hours and a five hour layover in Munich I would have been happy to see Count Dracula. So Simon was more than fine with me. Simon, however, was just a little perturbed to see three ladies and six very large suitcases since he had been told there was one lady and two bags. I wondered at his alarm. Surely the Count had told him there were three ladies. Simon excused himself politely and said he was going for the car.

Well we were just to excited for words, everywhere around us people were speaking Italian! All three of us had permanent smiles plastered on our faces. We didn't understand anything, but we were in Italy and nothing else mattered! Nikki's favorite saying which became our mantra was "We're in Italy, how bad can it be?" We were standing at the curb waiting for the car when I noticed a young man and woman making their way towards the building. To say that this young man was handsome is the understatement of the year! He was without a doubt the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and he was with a gorgeous woman. They looked like they could have stepped out of Elle magazine. While we were gawking at the handsome couple a tiny green car pulled up to the curb and stopped in front of us. To my utter amazement the six foot two Simon Minelle emerged from the car. I noticed when he got out there was a whoopee cushion on his seat. "Mmmmmm, I thought, I wonder what that's for, and I wonder where the other car is that is going to take us to the Villa?"

"We may have a problem," he says. I look at him blankly, partly because I can't concentrate because of all the beautiful men that Italy seems to be crawling with but also because I am now practically brain dead. "I don't think we can fit all the bags in the car."

"I don't understand." I said. Nikki and Terri are both looking at me very strangely.

"Filippo said there was only one lady and two bags. I don't think all the bags will fit in the car." Simon said with a look of disgust on his handsome face.

"Filippo said you would pick us up in a Discovery Van. He knew that there were three of us and six bags, I told him so in at least five emails." I was too tired to be very angry and we had decided that no matter what we weren't going to get upset. So I bit the bullet.

"We may be able to get them in if you don't mind riding with a bag or two between you" he said, as sweat was now pouring off the poor man's face.

"Well let's see if they fit and if they don't well then we'll just hire a taxi to carry the bags behind us." We were bound and determined not to let it bother us.

The bags did fit in the car, just barely. All 5 feet 9 inches of Terri sat up front with Simon while Nikki and I were wedged in the back seat with two very large suitcases. With the windows down we puffed all the way to San Fabiano much to Terri's annoyance. Terri doesn't smoke. This monster will show it's ugly head later on.

So there we were, the two giants in the front seats with all the legroom, and Nikki and I stuffed in the back with two very large suitcases between us. "But we're in Italy, how bad can it be?"

The streets in Italy are very, very narrow. That is why they only have little cars. This wouldn't be a problem except the buses are very large. The cars go very fast as well as the motorbikes. I realized that Nikki was having an anxiety attack when she started lighting one cigarette after another and looking at me with what can only be described as sheer terror. I'm sure there is a hole in the floorboard of Simon's little Fiat where Nikki constantly put on her own set of brakes.

Forty minutes later we were driving up a dirt road to our villa. Not exactly what I expected, I guess I expected to go up some winding road and to be able to look out on the valley. Sort of like my very own kingdom for two weeks. As it was we went up a short dirt road. There were two large buildings. As soon as the car came to a stop in front of the first building the door opened and a very handsome older man came out to greet us. This man was Count Filippo Fiorentini. He welcomed us to his home and showed us to the villa. It was really just as Nikki and I had expected because we had seen the pictures on the Internet. A restored, rustic farmhouse that had brick floors, nice big windows, and big heavy doors. The bathroom shower was built in under the stairway and was a little bit short for Terri, but it was fine for Nikki and I. The kitchen, which was my favorite room, overlooked a courtyard that by now I'm sure is overflowing with flowers. The villa had all the modern conveniences and came equipped with breakfast foods, including the neatest little coffee pot. All in all it was perfect for Nikki and me, though Terri was having major culture shock. The first words out of her mouth as the Count was showing us around was, "Where's the Hilton? I think I wanna go to the Hilton!" I could have killed her. Where was her sense of adventure anyway?

The Count invited us up to his apartment for a drink, but we declined saying we had to go to the store to get some food in the house. We actually wanted to buy wine but didn't really want to say that to the Count.

His very blonde, very English assistant, Lucy, took us to the Co-Op for some food and wine. It was an experience. The first thing she said is that if we wanted a shopping cart we would have to pay 500L for it.

"But Lucy, we don't have any Lira, we were too drunk in the airport to remember to buy any," is what I wanted to say, but instead I said, "Oh Lucy, we completely forgot to get Lira, what can we do?"

Well Lucy, Terri and I carried all the groceries through the store, while the Italians stared at us like we came from another planet. It didn't help when we got to the check out stand with, four bottles of wine, a bottle scotch, a bottle of vodka, a bottle of Sambucca and some bread and cheese and a credit card. I know they were thinking, "those ugly Americans!" We were pleased as punch however, all that and the bill was only about $60.

Back at the villa we opened the wine and toasted our good fortune to be in Italy. We would save the bread and cheese for tomorrow. Tomorrow was Sunday, we would rest up from our trip. On Monday, we would rent a car and I would then know what it feels like to live dangerously.

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