Ciao!

I never heard anybody say "Ciao". The Italians actually say "Prego" for nearly every greeting or comment.

We returned from our Roman Holiday last night, very late, and with 1,490 photos, I have a lot to share - from Pisa to Florence to Pompeii to Naples to Rome and home.

Roman Holiday is a 1953 romantic comedy starring Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn, who won an Academy Award for Best Actress in the movie.

Those 1,490 photos are reason enough to visit Italy. We saw more beautiful architecture, sculptures, paintings, and learned more history than I thought possible. The weather was fantastic. But . .. it isn't all good and we learned a lot about Italian culture.

So, with that in mind, I'll start at the end because that way, it only gets better.

We arrived home about 3 hours later than planned at around midnight because we left the car keys in Ross's luggage back in Rome. Fortunately, there is always a train, albeit slow, to Hasselt, so we did make it home eventually. Our car is now at the airport continuing to rack up charges. Oh, and the extra key is in the car. Ross will be home Monday so we can take the train back to fetch him and the car :)

On our arrival day in Rome, we immediately realized we'd left Ross's jacket back in Florence because I hung it in the closet and never looked in there again. We called the hotel and they agreed to mail it to us in Rome. After 3 days it had not arrived and although the hotel clerk was very nice and had made an attempt, the post offices in Italy are very crowded. We waited an hour just to mail postcards one day.

Anyway, for only €90, Jim spent nearly all one day going back to Florence to fetch the jacket. Cheaper than a new jacket and Ross needed it for a wedding he attended yesterday in Rome.

The bonus was that Jim got to eat this lampredotto (a typical Florentine dish made from the fourth and final stomach of the cow) sandwich which we had previously forbade him from eating :)

Delizioso.

Anyway, the Metro system is the only way to get around in the huge cities. Walking from place to place just isn't an option unless you've got a year to see it all.

The Metro systems are extremely crowded all day, every day. Often the doors will barely shut as the last person squeezes into the sardine can.

It is a well known fact that many Italians are professional pickpockets. Warnings to travelers are all over the internet.

Here is a warning on the screen where you buy your metro tickets.

We were very mindful of this and guarded at all times. Jim always carried his wallet in his front pocket and I kept my purse very close and zipped at all times.

I insert this photo for information purposes only :)

You can see where my purse was kept at all times. You may also notice that neither Jim nor I look native Italian. In other words, we stood out. Even without uttering a single "y'all", it was obvious - We. Were. Tourists. In other words, fair game.

Jim had a disturbing experience in Naples (a whole other country I will tell you about later). We needed cash, found an ATM, then boarded a city bus to get to the seaside. Immediately after sitting down (actually got a seat), a nice clean-cut guy in a Ralph Lauren sweater stands beside Jim's seat, bumps into him and apologizes. He then puts his finger into Jim's pocket. Yes, physically touching him. Jim puts his hand in his pocket and shoves his wallet further down into his pocket. The guy eventually gives up and moves aside. His apparent "partner in crime", an older guy, not so nice looking, takes his place next to Jim. For the next 10 minutes, this guy is determined to put his hand in Jim's pocket. He waits for us to stand and exit and what he thinks is our destination (obvious tourists) so he can make his move. We decide to continue back to the station. In frustration, the older guy gives up and they both beat their fists on the door and mercifully exit the bus. An Italian girl smiled at us in approval that we had outsmarted them.

But here's where it all went to hell. On our very last day. On our very last metro ride. On our way to the airport.

My wallet was stolen.

Right there on the metro, someone unzipped my purse which was strapped across my body, reached inside and took my wallet and I never knew it. I could not believe it. I still cannot believe it. I never felt a thing. I never saw a thing.

So now, some gypsy out there has

my money

my Belgian ID

my debit card

my American Express card

my Visa card

my Texas driver's license

my . . . well, you get the picture.

The pickpockets in Italy are professional and often not even Italian. It is a well known fact and all over the internet. We were prepared and mindful before ever entering the country that this is true. Here's the problem. It's accepted. It appears that the Italian polizia have decided to accept and do nothing about these magicians whose hands are quicker than the eye. If you do ever decide to go to Italy, be prepared to be robbed, because you will be.

Just a day or two before, I asked Jim if I should stop wearing my jewelry and put it in my wallet. I get a sick feeling every time I think about it.

I've had most of this for over 30 years. My wedding ring. My mother's wedding ring.

Right beside my wallet were these.

Ross isn't home yet so we will rest easy when he returns unhurt, still in possession of his iPhone, iPad, and whatever else "i" he has, plus his passport and wallet and all those same cards mentioned above.

We consider ourselves lucky. We were not hurt and all they took was my money, my Belgian ID, my American Exp . . .

Next up - the good part!