The day has finally arrived.  After three weeks of travel and fun we’re headed home.  Matt and Sam were out the door by 4:00 a.m. for a very early flight to Dubrovnik.  At 4:30 my phone rings- Matt has left his camera by the door to our apartment;  it’s still there, beneath the rear tire of a parked car. No way to get it to the airport though.  As I walk back into the apartment using my phone as a flashlight I somehow hit ‘FaceTime’  which is an app I never use.  There is a voice over the speaker.  I’ve somehow dialed my old college roommate Rich Scott.  He’s in San Francisco on business and fortunately it’s early evening there so we have a brief chat – half a world away.

We’re up by 7:30 and begin the arduous task of packing for the flight home.  With our new suitcase things are easier. Books, shoes and our never used raincoats all go in the  new bag, to be checked through to Toronto.  It weighs a ton and I hope the cheap thing doesn’t split wide open when we move it.  Gratefully our other bags are now lighter and more manageable.  Final packing done and the apartment looking pretty good, we wait for the car to the airport.  It arrives shortly before 11:00, and we’re off for Fiumicino Airport.  On a Saturday morning the traffic is light and we’re there in plenty of time.  Driver paid, we enter the terminal.  New suitcase makes it to the check in desk and is weighed.  The Alitalia staffer looks at it warily, but checks it through- the benefit of flying business class.  Next is security, and we’re through that quickly.  Sarah and Margaret are off to the Air Transat gate, and Melissa and I have a final espresso while we wait for the plane to board.

Now normally when you’re flying a trans- Atlantic flight on a big plane you have a pleasant stroll to the plane down a walkway.  But there was a fire at Fiumicino in May and we are forced to ride two shuttles to get to our plane, which is sitting far out on the runway.  They keep us locked in the shuttle while several disabled passengers are helped up the stairs. We then climb mountainous stairs to reach the plane ourselves.

Settled in to our seats we relax and await the take-off.  Here we go.  Dinner, drinks, fold flat seats, its all there.  But I can’t relax.  The vacation ending, all those daily tasks and worries that run our lives come flooding in.  Is the grass mowed, are the cats alright, do I have a mountain of paperwork on my desk(of course).  Still, I try to doze and watch a movie.  There is a camera on the plane that allows you to see the earth below.  Except the earth below is covered with clouds for the entire trip.  Still it’s a nice idea, and I check it repeatedly over the nine hour flight.  Finally, about 30 minutes out of Toronto I can see the earth.

Plane landed, we get through customs easily, wait for our new suitcase, which arrives intact although barely- the zipper is half open and the plastic on one side is starting to tear.  Shuttle to the car is right outside, and we reach the car quickly.  We open the car door, and there is that damned GPS, upside down on the seat, and nearly invisible.  Oh well.  The ride home is uneventful and we pull into the driveway by midnight.  Home at last.

Our final day in the Eternal City we have another of our popular death marches planned. In the morning, a three hour guided tour of the highlights of Ancient Rome, and in the afternoon a trip to the Vatican Museums and St. Peter’s Basilica. As we gather around our charming and beautiful tour guide Emanuella, looming behind us is the Colosseum, famed throughout the world as a symbol of Roman decadence, with bloody gladiatorial contests, wild animals and mock naval battles.
Except it’s not the Colosseum, or at least wasn’t to the Romans; to them it was the Flavian Amphitheater; the name Colosseum  came into common use much later after the fall of the Roman Empire, and was so named due to a huge bronze statue that stood outside the main entrance.  It served as a source of building materials for later structures, including the fountains of modern Rome.

Name notwithstanding, we enter the Colosseum  and see the “skeleton” of the Flavian Amphitheater stripped of its statues, marble fascia and elaborate awnings that kept the sun off the 80,000 Romans as they enjoyed the slaughter. Mornings were for animals: with exotic species such as lions, tigers from India, bears from Germania and crocodiles from the Nile as the featured victims. At lunchtime criminals were executed, and finally in the afternoon the gladiators had their turn. Most gladiators were not killed, however, as they were highly trained and quite valuable. If they were given the thumbs down by the emperor he was expected to reimburse their trainer for his loss.
After our short tour of the Coliseum we went out, crossed the street and entered the forum. This is the main area of Ancient Rome, where merchants bought and sold, the senate met, and temples to the various gods stood. What remains are scattered columns, the substrata of old roads and former temples converted to churches. A temple to Julius Caesar has been reconstructed, which was erected after his ascension to godhood courtesy of his appointed heir Augustus.

Our tour of the Forum meandered through the ruins, and then out into the city. The column of Marcus Aurelius with its detailed depictions of his Military conquests against the Germanic tribes during the “Marcomannic wars” is minutely detailed. At the top of the column where Marcus Aurelius formerly stood looking toward the forum now stands St. Paul, gazing toward the Vatican. The Pantheon of the gods, the oldest domed building in the world, with its striking oculus at the top, is now a church, and the famous painter Boticelli is buried there along with some Popes.

After pointing out a few likely places for lunch, espresso or gelato, and passing the Trevi Fountain which is under renovation, we end our tour at the Piazza Navona, with its three fountains, including the central fountain by Bernini called the “Fontana die Quattro Fiume ” or Fountain of the Four Rivers. The temperature is now into the mid nineties, so we find a likely spot for lunch that features air conditioning on the menu and cool off.

Next on the agenda is the Vatican. And we are not alone today. It appears that everyone in Rome has the same idea to escape the oppressive heat by going to the museum. It feels like we are washed into a river of humanity as a continuous flow of people enters the museum, passes countless busts of ancient Romans, fine tapestries, frescoes and maps, muraled walls and ceilings, paintings by old masters of enormous skill (and size). This human torrent has one destination, and we are swept along with no hope of rescue toward the Sistine Chapel and the ceilings by Michelangelo.

As we enter the Chapel the crowd is forced through a narrow set of doors watched over by menacing guards (though fortunately not the Swiss Guards with their long pikes- things might turn bloody on a day like this). “Be quiet” they say. “No pictures” they say. “Keep moving” they say.
I snap an illicit picture of the ceiling as I move rapidly toward the door so I can see what it looked like at my leisure. I am out of the Chapel. I am able to breath as large portions of the crowd enter the adjacent gift shop – no doubt to get postcards of that ceiling for the same reason I took my photo. This was the worst museum visit of my life.

The day is rescued by a short trip into St. Peter’s  Basilica, for a viewing of Michelangelo’s true masterpiece ‘The Pieta’; Even behind the bulletproof glass, surrounded by crowds of goofballs with selfie sticks it is a moving sculpture, and puts his cartoonish ceiling in the Sistine Chapel to shame; he was a great artist without question, but his métier was stone, not paint.
Exiting the Basilica into the eternal heat of the Roman afternoon I find a nearby fountain and quench my thirst. I need the water, but I’m also hoping for another miracle here at the Vatican. Prayers answered we find a cabbie driving a very small vehicle who insists he can fit all seven of us inside. Miraculously he is correct, saving us €8.00 for a second cab or a long hot walk back to the apartment at the Piazza dei Mercanti.

After a brief rest at home we cross the street for an early dinner. Tomorrow we pack and set off for home, except for Sam and Matt, who being jobless have the luxury of further European travel along the Adriatic coast for two more weeks before a flight home from Greece. It’s been quite a trip.
Further thoughts and observations to follow as I wind things up.

Things are getting out of hand here in Rome.  I stepped on the sidewalk and a portion of it stuck to my shoe because of the melted tar.  We’ve had a good night’s rest, but too short. We laze around the apartment enjoying the air conditioning.  No one is too anxious to hit the streets, since by 9 a.m. It’s already over 90 degrees outside. There is one place in Rome, however that is always cool- the catacombs.  For some reason Sarah insists she wants to see the catacombs (must be a Goth thing).  I’m lukewarm on the idea, Melissa wants to go and Sam and Margaret seem indifferent.  Matt and Isa opt for the modern art museum.  We finally get going by about 12:30, setting out for the bus stop recommended on the catacomb website.

We cross the Tiber and walk along the Circus Maximus, visions of chariot races in our heads.  We turn left toward the coliseum and then right toward St. John Latern Piazza.  We are looking for the #118 bus that will drop us off outside the entrance to the Catacombs of San Calisto.  We cannot find the #118 bus stop at the square.  We walk from stop to stop without success.  A man offers to sell scarves to the women so they can enter the church that faces the square; perhaps he is right and a few prayers will help. It is incredibly hot, and we are growing desperate.  Finally I pull out my phone and Google a route to the catacombs- it suggests the #714 bus, which we find and board.  A short ride later we exit and see a sign to the catacombs.  We set off down the road and continue walking for a kilometer.  We find an information office and inquire within. The helpful man walks outside and directs us to a gate.  From the gate it’s about a kilometer to the catacombs, he says.  And so we walk. A large open field lies on our left, an olive grove on our right. The sun blazes over head. Beneath us are the catacombs.  It’s all quite peaceful with the exception of a bronze statue of a demonic monk boy leering as we walk past.

After that final long kilometer we reach the entrance, buy our tickets and wait with our language group to descend into the cool of the catacombs, the largest in Rome, with over 20 kilometers of passages on four levels.  Sixteen Popes are buried here, along with about half a million others, almost all Christians from the second to fifth centuries A.D.  In the nineteenth century the catacombs were systematically opened in a search for relics and old popes, and all the remains were moved to the lowest level.  What remains is a procession of empty crypts and broken marble decorations with ancient symbols such as fish to mark the dead as Christian.

Finally our time has come, and we follow our personal Charon down a series of steps into the catacombs below.  As we descend the air cools, a slight smell of earth, but no odor greets our noses,  Electric lights show the way, although there are shafts cut through the soft stone to the surface that provide a dim light as well.  In ancient times oil lamps rested in alcoves in the walls.  Various size crypts and burial chambers lime the walls.  The more elaborate are lined with marble and have artwork painted on them, such as the chamber of the Popes.  I don’t count sixteen burial areas in that chamber, so maybe some of them shared.  At any rate they are no longer there.

After about half an hour in the catacombs we emerge cool and refreshed.  Close at hand is a gift shop, but we skip that and opt instead for some cool water flowing from a nearby fountain.  Filtered through sixteen Popes I figure it must have some healing powers and drink my fill.  A sign leads to bus 218 just outside the entrance to the catacombs: a miracle occurs, the bus arrives and whisks us back to the Circus Maximus and we are soon back at the apartment.  A second miracle shortly occurs when we are seated at a nearby restaurant called Enzo’s and have a fabulous meal.

Descended from various Goths, Visigoths and Vandals as we are, our sights are now set on Imperial Rome.  For too long the boot of Rome has rested on our necks, and now is our deliverance.  First off, how to get there. From Siena both the train and the bus will have us within the walls in a few hours, riding in air conditioned comfort. Since the bus stop is close and the price is less we opt for the motor coach.  But first we need another suitcase.  It seems that six people traveling for two weeks can accumulate quite a bit of loot: a tapestry here, a jewel there, assorted glassware (we especially liked the terra cotta cups our yogurt came in), and we had reached the point where our luggage would not suffice.  Fortunately luggage along with leather goods are inexpensive in Tuscany, probably sold as a loss leader so everyone loads up on the ceramics and fabrics they sell.  Twenty Six euros later we’re ready to go.

As usual on this trip the day is steamy, and just a short walk to the bus stop breaks a sweat. The bus arrives only a few minutes late; we stow our luggage, show our tickets and settle into the cool and comfortable bus.  The ride from Siena is through beautiful countryside with wheat and corn fields, vineyards and olive groves.  Hilltop villages are scattered along the way, and taller peaks of the Appenines sit in the background.  The scenery is mostly rural until the outskirts of Rome and then a short way through typical outer suburbs and we reach the bus station.

As we exited the bus we were greeted by our beloved Isa Marotta, who lived with us for a year as an exchange student.  Her Aunt lives in Rome and Isa’s family had come for a visit and to meet us for the first time.  Isa is now a student at the University in Trieste majoring in English and French literature.  Melissa worries that she looks too thin, but she seems good and we set off in two taxis for our apartment in Rome at the Piazza dei Mercanti in Trastevere.  A short and terrifying ride later we are at the apartment, and this one is a real gem; built some time in the late medieval period as the home of a wealthy merchant it has tile and hardwood floors and is filled with antique books and furniture; blessedly it is also air conditioned.

Once settled in we set out for lunch, but at this hour there are few places open.  We find a shaded place and sit down, to be greeted by a waiter who seems scripted out an old Laurel and Hardy comedy.  A nearby drunk prattles on in broken English that the place seems run by the Mafioso, while the fatter member of the waiter team tells him in animated Italian to keep quiet.  Food is not so good, except for the Caprese salad, but we need sustenance and it suffices.  After our meal we get back to the apartment for a rest.  Tonight is dinner with Isa’s family at a popular pizza spot near her Aunt’s house.

Rest time over, Isa’s aunt and mother, along with her brother Giuseppe pick us up in two cars and we set out for pizza.  The restaurant is crowded and noisy and the pizza is delicious.  After eating too much we walk around the corner and finish our meal with cooling gelato; I opt for a sampling of ficci (fig) and pistachio and both are fantastic.  On our ride back to the apartment we take a nighttime tour of Rome, including a stop at St. Peter’s cathedral and a view from the Palatine hill out over the lights of the city.  We’re finally home by about 1:30, but the city is still very much awake- alas we are not, and collapse into bed.

Still not entirely recovered from our trip to Florence, we lazed in our apartment and out on the terrace for most of the morning. After a couple of coffees and some water we took a short walk to the bus stop about noon and boarded the #130 bus from Siena to San Gimignano. The air conditioned bus took a leisurely route through the Tuscan countryside, and we could see several hill towns rising above the vineyards, olive orchards and fields. The heat was already rising and the air shimmered as we headed northwest toward the tower town of San Gimignano, about 40 kilometers away.

San Gimignano is noted for its concentration of towers, most built in the 14th century when the town lay along the pilgrims road from Northern Europe to Rome. At one time there were over seventy towers, but now only 14 survive. They were built by residents of the town as private fortresses and as a display of wealth. Again because of the plague, as well as changing routes of travel the town became an isolated backwater for several centuries and the towers and the town were left undisturbed until the last century when it became a draw for tourists like us.

Dropped off by the bus in front of the main gate, we walked through the walls and entered a beautiful medieval city, now reborn as a tourist attraction, with artisans shops and restaurants. It was early afternoon and we were hungry, so we stopped in a convenient and cool restaurant for our lunch. Nearly two hours later we emerged into the heat and wandered the town. Several terraces and the ruins of an old monastery(?) gave us spectacular vistas of both the town and the surrounding countryside. The towers are curious, with only a couple of windows in each as they project skyward. The main square is called the Piazza della Cisterna, after the large well that occupies the center.

After a pleasant wander through the town and some souvenirs we headed back to the bus stop for the ride back to Siena. Once again the air conditioning was welcome as the temperature had climbed to the mid-nineties. We may be acclimating to the heat, as our water consumption although still copious doesn’t seem as urgent as when we first reached Paris. Tomorrow we’re off to Rome for the final days of our trip. It’s been great so far.

Recovery from our Florence trip took most of the morning, but by early afternoon the natives were restless. Margaret, Sam and Sarah decided to go back to Florence, apparently not having had sufficient time to shop at the leather market the previous day. As they set out by bus, the remainder of us headed out to explore Siena.
Sienna was a rival to Florence in the 13th and 14th centuries and they were frequently at war. The Black Death devastated Siena in the 1300’s and a final blow to their prosperity came in 1555 when after an 18 month siege the city fell to the accursed Medici. The ‘Medici occupation’ lasted for two hundred years, so there was little development during the renaissance in Siena. What was bad at the time now leaves us with a well preserved late medieval relic.
The main sights in Siena are the Piazza del Campo, which is shaped like a gently sloping amphitheater. A horse race is run around the Piazza twice yearly in early July and in August, so we just missed that spectacle. The Piazza is surrounded by palaces and most importantly the Palazza Publico, where the council of nine ruled the town; inside the Palazza every room is decorated with frescoes and elaborately carved wood. The most significant frescoes are called the ‘Allegory of Good and Bad Government’ and depict the prosperity to be expected from good governance on one panel and the depredation, misery and death resulting from poor government.

After our tour of the Palazza Publico we walked to the nearby cathedral, or Duomo. This is a spectacular cathedral, with inlaid marble floors and an elaborate facade. Plans to enlarge the church in the 14th century were abandoned when the plague wiped out almost half the city population, but some of the structural work from that project is still visible. We didn’t have time to tour the cathedral as we had to reconnect with the shoppers (who returned with their leather fetish satisfied).

We had a late dinner at a great restaurant just off the Piazza del Campo serving traditional Tuscan style food. Following dinner it was home to bed. Tomorrow we’re off to the ‘tower town’ of San Gimignano.

Early Sunday morning we awoke to catch the 6:20 bus from Siena to Florence. On Sundays the bus and train schedule is limited, forcing us onto the early bus in order to reach Florence in time for our “Florence in One Glorious Day” tour we had scheduled.
On reaching Florence we had an hour before our walking tour of the city began, so we had a leisurely breakfast. The heat was already rising as our day began.
Our Florence tour was actually three separate tours, with a morning walking tour of the city, followed by separate tours of the Uffizi and the Accademia museums. As we set out through the streets of Florence our Belgian guide pointed out highlights of the city, while explaining its place as leader of the Italian Renaissance under the guidance of the Medici family.
The Medicis rose from rural obscurity to become the bankers of the Renaissance, beginning with Giovanni di Bicci, whose two sons Cosimo and Lorenzo established the two lines of the family that ruled Florence for almost three hundred years. In the process they provided patronage to such notables as Michelangelo, Botticelli, Galileo,Machiavelli and Titian. The final surviving member of the family Ana Maria Lodovica, leaving no heirs, willed her family’s estates and art collection to the city of Florence in 1743, creating the Uffizi Gallery.

Highlights of our walk included the Ponte Vecchio with its shops arcing across the Arno River, several churches and piazzas historic to the city and the unification of Italy (Florence was the first capital). The ornate cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, with its marble facade, dome by Brunelleschi and bronze doors by Lorenzo Ghiberti called the “Gate of Paradise” was spectacular.

After finishing our morning tour we stopped for lunch, most of us had cheese tortelli with walnuts and pears with a nice bottle of white wine. Then it was off to the Uffizi. Our guide for the museums was a British art historian and antique dealer named Kate, who came to Florence 28 years ago and never left. With her expert commentary we spent two hours at the Uffizi, wending our way through late medieval art, to early and late Renaissance painting and sculpture. Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’ and Titian’s ‘Venus of Urbino’ were my favorites.

A Brief break for cooling water, we were then off to the Accademia. There is really only one reason for that museum and that is Michelangelo’s sculptural masterpiece ‘David’. As Kate explained the history of the sculpture and described Michelangelo’s style and significance we wound through the galleries past his four unfinished sculptures called ‘The Prisoners’. At the far end of the room in its own rotunda stood David. Seventeen feet high on its pedestal and so perfectly formed you can see the veins on hands and neck it is a breathtaking sight.

Museums over,  it is back to Siena. We have missed our bus, but fortunately there is a train in 20 minutes. The train is cool and pleasant. We reach Siena, stop for groceries at the convenient store in the station and set off on a quick walk back to the apartment.
Alas, it is not to be. A wrong turn as we leave the station takes us in the opposite direction and we walk at least two kilometers before realizing our mistake. Laden with groceries, hot, tired, and surly, we walk back and reach our apartment at 10 p.m. To late for dinner, we eat leftovers and go to bed. Death March all over again. Tomorrow we rest in Siena.

Saturday was our travel day from Nice to Sienna. As we loaded our bags into the car they were heavy and bursting with our own gear as well as assorted souvenirs and gifts.  Our plan to travel light to avoid checked baggage had worked well to get us to Paris, but it was quite clear that would not be possible on the return to Toronto, so we’ll be looking for an extra bag.  As I mentioned previously, dropping off our car was a joyous occasion and we reached the train station with time to spare.  Settled into our seats we pulled out of Nice for Italy.  One problem with booking tickets is the inability to book more than 5 seats at a time on Trenitalia, the Italian national line. Instead I had cleverly booked all six of us to Ventimiglia using Rail Europe, and then switched to Trenitalia’s system for the remainder of the journey, booking 5 people and leaving Matt to fend for himself.

On reaching Ventimiglia we exited our train and with only a short layover went scurrying to find our next train to Genoa.  Racing through the station we checked the board and discovered . . . We were back on the same train we had just left, but in different seats!  So much for brilliant planning.  The ride along the coast was beautiful, with the blue Mediterranean to our right and small villages on our left.  By 9 a.m.  the rocky beaches were filling up with people.  We had noted during our trip that the mattresses on our beds were incredibly hard, and decided that was to prepare people for the beaches, since everyone seems to just put down a towel on the rockiest shore and lie there contentedly.

After changing trains once again in Genoa (this time for real)’ we continued down the coast to Pisa.  This is our only stop for sightseeing today, and it’s a brief one. We exit the train, check our bags at the storage room and race off through town to see the tower.  It’s a long hot walk, since the tower is on the other side of the city and we really can’t do Pisa justice, but it is quite pretty.  We reach the tower, snap a few photos for posterity and head back to the train.

The final part of our trip to Sienna is on the local trains, which are slower dirtier and much hotter than the regional trains we’ve enjoyed to this point. We make one final transfer at Empoli to the slowest, hottest train of all.  There is no air conditioning, there are two small windows that open about three inches for air, and we finally arrive in Sienna roasted and tired.  A short taxi ride and we reach our apartment.  The driver asks if we’re sure of the address, as the building appears to be under renovation, but we’re soon greeted by a young woman who rattles some keys and directs us to the apartment in the basement of the building.  It’s actually not bad, with vaulted ceilings and large rooms.  Settled in, we walk out for our first meal in Italy.

Our final day in France we spent at La Condamine, packing, relaxing, finishing as much of our food as we could and all of our remaining wine; tough job, that. In the morning it’s up early and off for Italy. We’ll have multiple stops tomorrow as we pass through Monaco, Change trains at Ventimglia, Genoa, Pisa, Florence, and finally arrive in Siena about 5:30 in the afternoon.
The majority of the trip is along the Italian coast through the Cinque Terre. I visited there on my last trip to Italy, and the views are spectacular, so it should be a great ride.
The final stop at Siena will be our home for the next four days, with a side trip to Florence on Sunday- we’ve scheduled a guided tour called ‘Florence in a Day’. I’m already having flashbacks to the Paris museum death march.
So here are some observations on our time in France, and some thoughts on the French way of life. The driving we’ve already discussed in hair raising detail, and I’ll dwell on it no further, except to mention that as we backed into the parking spot at the Nice train station to return the car, touching bumper to bumper with adjacent cars without an inch to spare, our vehicle and ourselves were intact. It was one of the happiest moments of our trip.

Eating in France is legendary, and the French relationship with food is not casual. We never had a bad meal during our 2 weeks here, although we ate at middling restaurants. The patisserie stop for fresh croissants or baguettes became a daily routine. The French grocery store dairy section is phenomenal, with hundreds of different cheeses, yogurts, creams, and things I’m not really sure of. We tried 6 different types of yogurt, including goats milk and sheeps milk varieties. We preferred the sheep over the goat; although it had a cottage cheesy texture, the flavor was delicious.
The other interesting thing about food in France is that it can be difficult to find. Grocery stores routinely close on Sunday, while restaurants close on Monday, as do most of the other shops. Both grocery stores and restaurants will close in the afternoons, with restaurants re-opening at 7 or 7:30 for dinner and stores re-opening at 2:30 for another three or four hours. We were just about locked into a grocery store on our first night in La Gaude as we tried to get supplies, so we grabbed a few items and planned to come back the next day for groceries. The next day was Sunday. Fortunately the patisserie was open and we could get sandwiches for dinner.

Wine in France is inexpensive and good. The grocer sold Provençal rose’s for less than €3.00 per bottle that were fine. You could also get a 6 liter box of wine for €16, but we didn’t venture there.
Seafood in Provence is fresh and plentiful. We had delicious shrimp, squid, mussels and fish. The local grocer in La Gaude carried octopus, trout, salmon, whole tunas and about a dozen other varieties, all of which looked freshly caught.

Raw beef is very common on restaurant menus, and at one place we saw no less than three menu items that featured it. Apparently no worries about mad cow disease here.
Among the things we ate here you may count escargot, duck pâté prepared 3 different ways, lamb, beef, duck, mussels, salmon, sole, squid and one order of stir fry that Melissa ordered when she panicked.
We had macaroons, glacés, butter cookies, croissants, pan du chocolate, creme brûlée, chocolates and gelees. We drank sparkling and tap water by the gallons. After 2 weeks, we hardly fit in here, but we’re certainly more comfortable and able to make our way. We’ve seen Paris and Provence, climbed hill towns, swum in the sea and walked countless stairs. Our favorite place in France has been our refuge at La Condamine, where we could return for a swim, find quiet, and maybe be just a little more at home. We’re sorry to leave, and the bags are full to bursting with souvenirs and gifts. Italy awaits.