Things I can't do in Italy

It's a pretty long list.
- Speak Italian
- Inflate a bicycle tire
- Open the doors of the house I'm staying at
- Find the @ sign on keyboards (I cut and paste it)
- Read Italian
- Make capuccino
- Start a burner
- Charge anything

Things I can do in Italy:
- Smile
- Wait
- Nod/Gesture
- Eat
- Order cappuccino (fingers crossed)
- Operate a flashlight
- Ride on trains
- Eat some more
- Walk
- Bike up hills
- Swim

The swimming in Italy is especially good. This is our third day here and we're going to set forth after a few more cappuccinos to explore the medieval town of Orvieto. Central Italy, in case you were wondering, was settled by the Umbrians sometime around the 8th century BC, a 'peacable farming tribe' according to my EyeWitness guidebook. They were then were conquered by the Etruscans, a long time ago. In the 13th Century the independent provinces fell one by one to the papcy, who pretty much owned everything and controlled everythign else. Then the area joined Italy proper in 1860, when Italy was unified.

Let's talk more about the house. It sits on lake Cordova, which is calm and pretty and attracts a lot of birds and bugs. One bird has a call that sounds a lot like a cat meowing into a microphone. It travels, that sound. You can't swim in the lake, because it's a reservoir, but you can admire it, and see fireworks across the way, and sometimes hear people partying, or camping, as the sounds of voices carry, indistrinctly, over the water.

Each night we stay up late, trying to digest the 6-course dinners that Lorenzo and his handsome American minions (aka culinary students) prepare for us. The portions are much too large and Lorenzo, who Roger calls 'Chef', glowers at us when we don't finish. We all try to exercise more so we don't earn his wrath. Needless to say, each night seams are split. Dessert wine is uncorked. I resort to lie-downs with a finger of Frenet Branca. (Thank God for digestifs.)

It's a quiet spot, with a lawn for Ruth and Roger's young son and daughter to run around, kick soccar balls, ride bikes, and general be adored and adorable. In the evenings a not-very-stray dog comes and visits us, begging food but otherwise keeping her distance. Duncan, Liz's husband, chases her off. The company is excellent, the food is divine, the drinking is non-stop, and we're all having a lovely time.

Last night, we had a fire in the open pit and watched the nearly-full moon rise. Roger used his iPhone app to locate the big dipper and identify the stars. We have an excellent view of the hill town of Todi, and the lights blinked off through the hours until there was just a single string that defined the battlements that kept the Visigoths (perhaps) at bay.