Trains, Buses and Cars

In preparation for our incoming guests I'd cleaned the kitchen and bath, stripped the sheets and dusted the furniture of their apartment. All that part of cleaning I don't mind so much ..... but I was about to begin the part that stops me cold in my own home - the vacuum cleaner. I just don't like them because they're noisy, awkward and always get hung up at the most inconvenient moment.

I'd lugged the little apartment vac up the steps to the sleeping loft only to discover that it wasn't sucking up any dirt. I realized the canister was full, so thinking that might be the problem, I finally remembered how to get the canister separated from its main body part. (It's amazing how much you can forget in 3 years.) I was carrying it to the front door when my finger hit the release button and no telling how many weeks of vacuum cleaner ick dumped on my legs, feet and the floor. As I watched the clouds of dust start to coat the newly dusted furniture, I set up a howl. David said he thought I'd cut my arm off! He helped me get the aspire polvare (vacuum cleaner) operational, and the cleaning proceeded until fresh flowers were on the table and the gate was opened.

Four o'clock came and went .... 5:00 .... 6:00. As it approached 7 pm I was starting to feel nervous. Where were our guests? Suddenly the phone rang ..... some man speaking Italian way too fast for my slow Southern ears .... but I recognized the name of our family and verified that he'd reached the right number. A sweet English-speaking voice came on the line. Our guests had arrived by bus and were in the middle of Bagno a Ripoli pondering how to get to their accommodations for the week. By the way, they were so late because their train from Venice had been detained.

Since this house is located on a mountain and is pretty isolated, a car is strongly suggested to potential guests. I asked the lady (let's call her "Holly") where she was .... I could hear voices in the background .... and Holly said that she and her 12-year old son were at some café on Via Roma. I wasn't sure where she was, so the man came back on the line speaking Italian at 100 mph. I said, "Piano, piano . . . non parlo l'italiano molto bene. Capito?" ("Slowly, slowly . . . I don't speak Italian very well. Do you understand me?"). He answered, "Sì.." and started up again, this time at the snail's pace of about 85 mph.

Holly came back on the line, and I asked her what she was wearing. Since we had to buy groceries anyway, I told her to stand on the sidewalk and we'd be there shortly. We hopped in the car and drove down the mountain looking for a woman in a black dress with pink polka dots standing on the sidewalk with her son and luggage. We are driving the European version of the Toyota Yaris - it's supposed to seat four people - and it does - but not much more will fit. Only the carry-ons would fit in the "trunk", so Holly and "Zack" (that's what we'll call him) held the heavy roll-ons in their laps as we headed for the local supermarket.

How we managed to fit everyone, their luggage AND groceries in the car, I don't know ..... but we did. We were on the way to getting our tired, hungry guests home, when all of a sudden .... on the main street of Bagno a Ripoli .... our car went dead. David turned the key over and over, but the car refused to crank. It's only three years old (this car was brand new the last time we were in Italy) and should be mechanically sound, but there we were - three of us popping out of the car and trying to help David roll down the hill into an open parking spot on the via Roma - traffic buzzing past us as if we weren't there.

It took a while to figure out how to get the hood open (the manual being in Italian), but looking at the engine when we managed to pop the hood did not fix the car. We were stuck .... and I realized with a panic that we didn't know who to call. Gabriele (our Italian family's son) had left for the city that morning .... and he'd told me that he wouldn't be home until the next day.

I happened to look up and see Gabriele zooming past us in his father's Smart car on the way up the mountain. I shouted "Gabriele!!!!" and started running down the middle of the street, waving my arms and screaming like a banshee. Everyone in Bagno a Ripoli saw me ..... but he didn't.

So we trudged down to the cafè and humbly asked to use the phone one more time. I called three times before Gabriele answered, and asked him to come rescue us. David had been waiting at the car, and when we returned he said, "I hope you told him to bring the BMW when he comes."

Of course I hadn't.

However Gabriele knew what our problem was because he'd been aware that the car was almost out of gas when he and David had been running all those errands. Long story short, he and David took off with the groceries .... so the cold stuff wouldn't go bad ..... to get the BMW and extra benzina (gas), while we waited on the sidewalk in the heat of the waning day. They're saying that this is the hottest summer in 150 years in Florence ......... I do believe it.

After what seemed like four hours (but was probably only one) the men-folk returned with a 2-liter bottle of the precious benzina, and we made our way up the mountain to the Casa del Colle .... with a short stop at the gas station to feed our thirsty Toyota.

Praise the Lamb of the living God for telling Gabriele to go home that night (even though he may not have been aware of that prompting) and for getting all of us off the sidewalks of Bagno a Ripoli.