Mission Baby Sleep: Night Four

We all have colds.  I am at the tail end of mine.  Jack just got walloped with it at work and Abigail is fighting the gentler-breastfed version.  She has a little hoarse voice and a bit of a cough.

Last night was kind of rough at around 12-2:30am, but baby got to sleep at 2:30 and slept straight through til 5:30am.  Awesome.

I had planned on going out for a walk today, but bundling up against the chill and setting out just was too much.  I guess I am not feeling as good as I thought I was.  Feeling kinda brain dead today.  I guess it is apparent.

Good News:  My mother is coming to visit in ONE MONTH.  We can begin countdown.  The goal is to have Abigail's sleep routine down enough that Jack and I can go out for dinner, alone.  Bliss.  My goodness.  What will we do with ourselves?

We are also trying to plan a vacation for next summer when my mother-in-law comes to visit.

My dream is to rent a narrow boat and travel the rivers of some cooler clime.  Germany, Ireland, (not England because of the Olympics).  There is also talk of Scandinavia or Croatia.  Hmmm.  That is the one good thing about living in Europe.  These are all doable possibilities.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, dear reader.  Leave them in the comment section.

Florentine Fiasco Part Due

Did you enjoy the eye candy?  

We LOVED Florence.  There was a pleasant nip in the air, despite the sun streaming down in the crooked medieval streets.  We stayed in a place we found on vrbo.com.  The owners provided us with this very cleverly written list of off the track, locals only food haunts.  We spent most of our weekend wandering the streets finding food to eat.  Delightful.  The list was so nice, it apparently decided to stay in the diaper bag and so it has migrated home with us (whoops).  I still need to email the nice ladies and tell them I will speak to it sternly for stowing away and send it home.  It's been a week.  I will get to it.

Reluctantly, we left Florence amid the musings that always accompany our departure from the north of Italy.  They sound like this,  Me: "why couldn't the Navy have a base here?"  Jack: "Because there is no place for the boats."  Me: "So. You don't work on the boats"  Jack: "I know." 

The ride home was a little iffy.  Maybe Abigail could perceive something we couldn't.  She was fussy and exhausted and unbeknownst to us about to embark on the second sleep strike of her life.  I wonder if there is any correlation between her being born here and striking... Confused? read on.

Italy, like many of the post war social democracies of Europe, has found that strikes are an effective method of influencing the political climate.  So, there are lots of strikes.  Most are announced and it is quite necessary to check the times etc. before planning travel.  We did...but not thoroughly enough.

As you might remember, we took the small, local train from our house to the station.  When we arrived in Naples, with a finally sleeping baby in the Baby Bjorn, we were approached by a middle aged man in a worn, dark leather jacket mumbling "taxi, taxi"  Much in the way we would turn away the same sort mumbling, "coke, coke" or "tickets, tickets"we breezed by him.  Not stopping to think.

We had one goal which was to find the metro to get to our train.  We stopped, me nervously trying to shield ALL of our luggage with my body, and asked a security guard where the metro was.  He told us, 

with what I still believe was honest regret, that the trains were on strike.  Seriously?

After much debate, I remembered that there was a Sepsa bus line that followed the same route.  We could not find anyone who could tell us where the bus stop was.  Finally, I channelled my mother and marked the family to the police station and asked there.  We were given directions and headed out of the station and down the road.

Now, the Napoli Centrale Station is not a place to be distracted, lost or generally not looking like you will rip the head off of anyone who looks at you sideways.  Am I exaggerating? Perhaps, but then I come from the bias of one who has actually been mugged.  And it could happen to you.  

OUTSIDE the train station, is downright sketch.  Let's step back and look at the situation:

Me, with diamond ring turned inside, baby strapped to chest and hauling a Jansport carry-on size suitcase behind.  Jack wearing the diaper backpack and pushing our UppaBaby Vista stroller.  We were like sitting ducks out there in the wilderness.  

Off we set to find the station.  After we passed a family selling about six pairs of used shoes lined up in front of them on the street, a block with clothes competing with the garbage strewn all over we finally stopped before we got to the cluster of about ten young, rough around the edges men standing around.  All I was capable of was controlling my breathing to ward off a panic attack.  Jack finally stopped and said, "I don't care how much a taxi costs us.  We are getting out of here."  We turned around.

On the mad dash out of there we were stopped by two older men who scolded me for not having a hat on my baby and not putting her in the stroller where she would be warmer.  There must be some conclusion to be drawn from this, but I don't have it.  I mean really?  I was in NO way going to put my baby in something that could be taken AWAY from me.  

Ok.  We got back to the taxi stand.  We saw a bunch of empty taxis and a group of taxi drivers standing around smoking...Yep.  The guys whispering taxi to us?  Taxis, ON STRIKE.  Joy of joys.  

I whipped out my cell phone and called our dear angel friend Jess.  We got on the Alibus that runs between the airport and the train station, and Jess picked us up at the airport.  Bless HER.

The Florentine Fiasco Part I

The Duomo

I have been meaning to post this all week.  But it has been crazy.  Abigail is preparing for her next big developmental leap so she is a bit whacko---"like all babies are at these times" says my aunt.  Unfortunately, for the house, my back, my blog, my sanity, my husband, her choice of whacko behavior this time round is needing to be attached to my boob at all times.  Lovely.   I thought it was bad last time when she just wanted to be in the sling.

I digress.  Florentine Fiasco.  (Actually, the fiasco didn't actually begin til we got back to Naples.  Surprised? Anyone?)

It all began when Jack found tickets to London for around $196 for the two of us.  Pause.  Jack came in wanting to get into the desk drawer--which I am sitting in front of, while nursing Abigail, while typing. Maybe I should just stand on my head to make things really interesting.

Tickets to London for cheap.  Apparently he can't type fast enough because between the time he started putting the credit card info in, and when he got it in, Expedia popped up a window saying that the tickets had gone up...300 buckaroos. I think it is a scam.

We didn't go to London, but the feet were already itching.  Soooo... "Florence," he suggested.

I found us an apartment on vrbo [Vacation Rentals By Owner] right in the Piazza del la Signoria: READ the perfect place to stay-- for 100 euros a night.  Done and done.

I, then, nervously, booked tickets for a train leaving Naples Centrale Station at 7:45 AM.  Ambitious for two first time parents of a five month old.  I guess I was feeling cocky after our successful transatlantic flight.  We were going to travel on non-transferable Sabato Italiano tickets.  You can travel two for one on Saturdays, but you have to book at least a day ahead. Check. Saved us about a hundred bucks.

We were going to take advantage of the little local train that runs outside of our door and supposedly goes into Naples.  I say supposedly because I looked for an hour or so online to try to figure out exactly HOW the train connected to the main terminal.  Unsuccessful.  I figured we'd leave early and wing it.

On Friday afternoon we piled into the car with Tobi to drop him off at Krista, the German lady's kennel. "Eeet ees a kennel zee dogs like, not zee people." Her words. Upon seeing her again, this is where he stayed while we were at home, Tobi leapt into her, like the 70 lbs of crazy black fur that he is, and followed her tail-a-wagging, without a backward glance at us.  Hmmpppf.

Saturday we got up too early. We gathered things: stroller, diaper backpack and one, ONE!! small suitcase and went on the adventure to get to the station.  Getting on the little train to Naples was fine.   Jack shlepped the stroller up the stairs to the platform (accessibility has not yet reached Naples).  We waited maybe ten minutes until the graffiti-covered train rattled up to us and then Jack tossed us, stroller and suitcase up the three feet of stairs between the train and platform.  We didn't buy tickets because the ticket window was closed.  Ahhhh.  say it with me, "Naples."

On the train we asked a nice old man where to get off to get the metro to Naples Centrale.  This sparked a debate amongst the handful of half asleep people traveling at Zero Dark Hundred on a Saturday morning.

PAUSE:  Abigail is screaming.  Jack is trying to soothe her.  She wants the Boob.  Unfortunately, I am attached to it.

The folks finally decided on how we should change trains to get off the metro.  The man told me what we had to do, but I was half asleep and totally confused so I didn't really understand what he said.  He must have read the blank look in my eyes because before our stop he asked another lady to show us where to go.

We followed her off the train.  Jack tossing us all down the stairs again.  She past a sketchy looking guy lurking at the corner of the passage to the platform and up the escalator.  I nervously flipped the diamond on my ring to the palm of my hand and tried to control my breathing.  I DO NOT like sketchy looking men lurking anywhere.  We left the station like little ducklings and she shooed us down this empty park looking thing to another building which looked like a train station.  How kind.  She left us with congratulations and compliments about our beautiful baby. Now, smiling, we say, "Ahhh.  Naples."

We walking over the park that was graffitied and littered with trash, but had the potential of being pretty, to another building.  Which we found to be the Campo Flegri Station.  From there, after hearing the appropriate gushing and congratulations about my beautiful daughter, we were guided to the right metro.  By then it was 7:35.  Uh oh.  Jack and I we getting worried and being to snap at each other about what we would do if we missed the train.  Correction:  Jack was speculating and I was snapping at him to be positive and not screw our chances by spewing negativity over us.  I know.  I know.  It was early and I was VERY anxious about being out in Naples.

We got on the Metro.  Uneventful, and SLOW trip to Napoli Centrale.  We got to the station at 8:00.  We missed it.  A short debate and two NEW purchased tickets (another 114 euros).  We were on the high speed train to Florence.

I leave you with some eye candy courtesy of Jack and will return tomorrow with Part DUE.

Finally on the train

Rape of the Sabines, Piazza del la Signoria

MMMMMM

Ponte Vecchio

About me

The Itinerant Homebody, aka Anna, is a homemaker constantly on the move. I spent my single days traveling the world as a performing artist. Desperately ready to put down roots and reuniting with the love of my life, I got married. The occupation of love of my life? A sailor.
Last year found me in Virginia Beach; this year in Italy. Here I will write about my life as I discover how to make a home and make my art---wherever my family happens to go ashore.