It is our last full day in Italy and it's pretty obvious by the speed we are moving that we are officially spent. I swear, it is getting hotter by the day and I can see why no one wants to come here in August and the locals leave the city. When I return, for sure, I will come in the fall.
Right now, we are in our bed and breakfast resting and it's only 11:30 in the morning. This is a first, for we've never been back to the room until at least five o'clock. With the sun beating down, the tour groups clogging the streets and our sheer exhaustion, we need an hour or two rest before heading out again.
We started our day with, of course, some cannolli, an espresso fredo and freshly squeezed orange juice, which, believe it or not, in the restaurants in Los Angeles is hard to find. (Get an orange, people and squeeze it.) Sitting down on the patio, I didn't even care about the cover charge, we just needed to sit. And, of course, we could not resist the bambolino - a sugar coated donut topped and stuffed with lemon meringue.
Slowly, we got up and walked close to the buildings for the small piece of shade they provided. We wandered through another open air market and into, what could be described as a farmer's market. Here, rows and rows of fresh meat and poultry stands, along with pasta, oils and vegetables were for sale and on display. Butchers were slicing tripe, something it seems my mother's father loved to put in his sauce. It looked like a shag carpet, but it seems it's the inside of the cow's stomach.
"My father had strong teeth," Rosemarie said. "He could eat anything."
Outside the vendors were bartering, calling us to their stands. If it were the fall, perhaps the leather goods would be harder to resist. Right now, the air conditioning in our room is all we care about. Maybe a quick 30 minute nap and we'll have the energy for lunch.
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