You Wanna See Capri? It's Gonna Cost You!

Off the coast of Italy lies a little island that is not only the birthplace of my beloved Caprese salad and the shortie pants I like to wear in summer, but home to the Mediterranean's Rodeo Drive.

The tiny streets of Capri might as well be lined only with candy shops and bakeries. Each window you look in boasts a rainbow of shapes and colors, trying to lure you in. "Indulge here," they whisper. Fendi. Roberto Cavalli. Hermes. Bvlgari. Prada.

Gabbana never seemed so dolce.


A girl could blow ten handbags full of cash here. And it's not just the stores that getcha.

When we bought tickets to take a boat to the famed Blue Grotto, we paid in the marina. Then we paid again for an additional ticket to actually enter the grotto. And of course there was a fee for renting the canoe driver who would paddle 10 feet to get us into the cave. Altogether, it cost us each 25 euros. A beautifully orchestrated racket.


They even charged us a euro to walk into Giardini Augusto for a view of the flowers and the cliffside. We later discovered we could've walked right in, had we taken a different route.

The bottom line is: Capri ain't cheap.


However, the price you pay for the attractions, the irresistible gelato, and the fashion (which I didn't have room for in my suitcase) are returned to you in vistas everywhere you look.

Capri, you and your delicious salad have won me over. Keep the change.

First She Whacked Me with a Rolling Pin, Then She Stole My Heart

If Rome is like a passionate kiss, Naples is like a kick in the shin.

Mr. Wonderful and I arrived Monday morning after a nice train ride and a grungy metro hop. I knew immediately once we got to the underground platform we were not in Rome anymore. Designer heels had given way to beat-up kicks. Fine tailored suits were replaced by tattered leather jackets and greasy hair. I'm pretty sure one man on the subway had a Tuberculosis cough.


When we emerged at street level, we were immediately assaulted by honking horns, pieces of trash blowing down the sidewalk, the smell of gasoline fumes and cigarette smoke. I thought we might have accidentally gotten off at Hell instead of Stazione Cavour.


For every dimple of charm Rome flashes with a flirt, Naples reveals a scab and a scar. But then she beckons you closer, lifts her skirt, and offers you the most delicious slice of pizza you've ever imagined. And suddenly, you're in love.


After quickly recharging at our oasis of a hotel, we headed back out to the chaotic streets to find a pizzeria Mr. W had read about online. This was when I felt myself start to fall. Like when you find yourself suddenly attracted to the scraggy biker in your chemistry class, despite the fact that he hasn't showered in 3 days.


There's something endlessly endearing about the way Neapolitans desecrate their city with graffiti but then drape it in pride with Italian flags. And then there are the beautiful Italians eating pizza...


I have never in the States seen a beautiful woman polish off an entire pizza in one sitting. In Naples, it's just another lunchtime. Try as I did, I couldn't finish the whole thing. Next time, next time.

Thank goodness I have an excuse now to return to this new city I adore.

Familiar Faces in Faraway Places

Mr. Wonderful and I arrived to Rome Saturday night at 11:00 p.m. Exhausted and famished, we were anxious to get to our little apartment near the Spanish Steps. But when our driver rounded a curve and the Coliseum was to our left, strategically lit against the night sky, food and a bed no longer mattered. We were in Roma!



We ate dinner close to midnight and every bite of proscuitto, every morsel of tomato, tasted like the best I'd ever had. The wine was like water, quenching my thirst. It is so easy to sink right into this city.


So here we are thousands of miles from home, and yet so much is familiar. Mr. W remembers the street grid from his other visits. He navigates like a local. Our favorite gelato shop is right where it was before. And the best treat of all: I have a friend in town!



My ex coworker from long ago—and currently amazing travel blogger—Janice (of After the Artist's Way) is here. So amidst the throngs of strangers, Mr. W and I met up with her to visit the catacombs. There she and he are, walking to the bus station after our tour. She is decked out in her Vatican best, looking like she's lived in town for years.



It's funny to be so far from home and having such fun with a once local friend. It's funny that she and I had seen each other only once in about 6 or 8 years, and yet our paths crossed enough that we could enjoy a whole day together. This world is very small. There's no way to fully experience that than to get out and see it. It astounds me every time I travel.

Funnier yet is that we have other family friends who will be in town when we return to Rome after our Amalfi Coast stops. What are the odds? We'll try to meet up with them too.



Here are Janice and I enjoying a dinner near the Trevi Fountain. It was lovely to be able to share the experience and talk about boys and giggle. It was wonderful to be reminded again of just how tiny this earth really is.

Italy, I Think I Love You

By the time you read this post, I'll be in London or maybe even Rome. I'm meeting Mr. Wonderful in the Heathrow Airport where we'll embark on our honeymoon.

When we first started thinking about where to go for this essential post-wedding vacation, we talked a lot about Japan. We felt we'd seen quite a bit of Europe and that it might lead to a bigger adventure if we visited a new continent.

Then one day last fall we were running errands and I got an idea. "What about the Amalfi Coast?" I asked him, already knowing the answer.

Mr. W is a sucker for Italy.

Before I went with him in 2009, I had such a romantic notion of what it would be like there. I remember reading Eat, Pray, Love and just hanging on every page, visualizing the piazzas and monuments and pasta. And when I went, I discovered it was all true.

Funny side note about that book: Mr. W and I had only been dating a couple months when I read it, but even then in the infancy of our relationship I knew I was falling for him. I thought about saying, "I Think I Love You" to him on more than one occasion. And then my crazy copywriter brain realized that if you turned that phrase into an acronym, it was ITILY. Italy.

One chilly winter afternoon, as Mr. and I laid on his bed reading, I started to stare off into space and he asked what I was thinking about. "Italy," I responded, holding up my copy of Eat, Pray, Love. But what I really meant was ITILY.

I told him this story a year or so later, and the acronym became a code word for us.

Now it seems only fitting that we're visiting that country for our honeymoon.

Here's a clip of one of the things I'm looking forward to most. The Blue Grotto on the Island of Capri. How can you not just swoon over the singing?

Homegrown Produce

I'm posting over at 'S Wonderful today, sharing some pictures of the tasty treats growing in our garden.

Take a look!

Take Responsibility. Take Back the Power.

We've all been there. Feeling kicked and down. Like the world (or maybe just one or two people in the world) are against us. Like we are innocent victims.

We get cheated on by lovers. Betrayed by friends. Ousted by employers. Wronged by family. Chased by debt collectors. And we tell people our sad stories. We explain that things "are the way they are" right now or forever because of what happened to us.

But imagine the power we would seize if we took some responsibility for where we were in our lives.

When I got laid off in 2003, I felt like someone had slapped me in the head and thrown me in the gutter. My wails of woe were loud and constant. But at some point I realized that I had a hand in my fate. A big one. I chose to go into an industry that is rocked by change and lost clients and reorgs more often than not. I also chose to have a less than stellar attitude from 9 to 5. So although it stung like a mutha when I got let go, the good news was that because I had played a part in the whole situation, I could wield my power to cast myself into a new one.

Same thing when I got cheated on. It wasn't fun, but it also wasn't entirely his fault. I'd made a decision to be with someone I knew was probably trouble. I chose to stay with him even though the relationship was riddled with my criticisms and his retaliations.

Stepping back and asking, "What was MY role in this?" helped me see (over and over) that I had the ability to influence every place I'd landed in my life. And I think that's amazing. Victim, schmictim, right?

We're all going to have bad things happen to us. But the place we choose to go after those things happen is totally in our control. Every single day is a chance to turn things around or take a different route to get you closer to where you really want to be. You just have to start by looking at yourself and admitting that maybe you could have done a few things differently. Once you know what they are, do them.

A little responsibility goes a long way. Take it and go power yourself up!

Listlessness

I am a hoarder of folded papers and chicken scratch. I love lists like Lindsay loves booze and Paris loves animals that fit in her purse (Has anyone heard that she has a teacup pig? I did not know this, but now I want one).

Just about every week, I fashion a little folded piece of paper that houses my To Do list, grocery lists, birthday gift lists, lists of crafty things I want to make. You name it, I've listed it. Without my lists, I feel lost. And sometimes I write stuff down just so I can cross it off and feel like I've been extra productive.

But this week, in my freaky WhatNow newlywed phase, I started to question The Lists. Because even though Mr. W and I are desperate to lay down details about our future, we also seem to be totally mired in continual To Dos. I've been feeling like I have no time to just be. And The Lists might be the biggest culprit.

So I've been living listless for the past several days. I don't know yet if it's really having a huge impact on my "being" time. But it sort of makes me feel a little more spontaneous. And I think it may help stave off my early-onset Alzheimer's because it's forcing me to actually remember things rather than just looking at my paper scraps for a reminder.

We'll see how it goes. Although there's no way I'll be able to pack for Italy next week without my clothing matrix...