More new Italian words

This morning I learned how to say I'm sick in Italian. Not exactly what I was hoping for, but at least I can watch JAG all day. I didn't really like the show in English, maybe dubbed over in Italian will be better.

Adventures in International Breastfeeding

Just for memories, here’s what I did Thursday morning in Florence. As you know, I’m breastfeeding. It’s not something I talk about a lot or even love, but I do it because it’s free and easy. Well, easy after the first month. Anyway, I guess it’s the American in me that doesn’t want to announce (or show) it to the world.

Since I’m still nursing at home, that means on vacation I’m pumping. Although I think pumping is about as fun as the dentist, I’ll do it for a trip to Italy.

I know enough Italian to order food, take a taxi, find the bathroom. But buy a breast pump? UH, no. So when the old pump decided it didn’t really want to pump, off I go. And of all the mornings that neither of the girls are working… yes, of course. I get to ask the cute Italian man where to buy and pump and how to say it in Italian.

I tried to contact La Leche League first, figuring they like to talk about this stuff. I emailed them. It was a response, all in Italian, telling me to join Yahoo groups. Yikes, I definetly can't translate all that! Then I tried to call them. I'm guessing it was an answering machine. I have not the slightest clue what it was saying. I might have been calling a plumber.

Thankfully I did ask. Otherwise I would have been doing breast pump charades with the pharmacist. Literal translation? Pulling milk. That’s right everyone (well, 3 men at the front desk at least) I need to pull some milk out of my body. Ug.

I should really have take a photo of me with all the parts. It was like a science experiment. Beakers, funnels, gaskets... Oh my. And chicco, would it really kill you to put a photo or drawing or something in the directions? How do I know where that gasket goes? A piston? Really?

The interesting part is that every night on at least 2 channels there are plenty of breasts. And they are out for show. But for some twisted reason, I still didn’t want to ask where to buy a breast pump.

Going circle, I went to the Accademia today. You know, Michelangelo’s David. Let me say, it is impressive. And his junk is all out in the breeze for sure. And as I was walking through the rest of the museum looking at the 645th Mary and Jesus painting, what did I see? Mary was BREASTFEEDING. Seriously. In at least 2 paintings. And she, and even little chubby baby, looked happy for a change, boob hanging out for the world to see for hundreds of years. If I could only be so brave Mary.

How cold is it?

A little background to the story- Jeff grew up in Northern Indiana. I'm pretty sure they get snow in FEET. I'm also pretty sure they see below freezing for, well, what seems like forever to me.

Last night, we walk out the door from dinner and Jeff says, BRRR. We turn a corner. S*^$! It's freezing balls cold! Another corner. More cursing. Down a street. F*&#! I'm cold!

You know, it was cold. Like 30F cold, not like -10F cold, which you would have thought from the cursing. Wuss.

Then we pass McDonald's. They have a flag outside that says,  "ti nivol mi."

Jeff "Is that Italian for I'm Lovin' it?"

Me "Noooo, that's ENGLISH  backwards." (the freezing balls cold wind had blown the flag)

Obviously, the Montepulciano has gone to his head. He is cut off. Chianti only from now on.

A few more things...

Google: I do not speak Italian well enough to understand you now!

Travelers: Do not wear your passport in a pouch around your neck. You look like a geek and are killing me.

My kids: If you happen to ever read this, yes I went on vacation without you. I felt bad for a few minutes at the airport when everyone else had their kids. That all went away when I slept from 12-8. Count it out, that is EIGHT hours of sleep. A feat that has happened maybe twice in 3 years. But I do want to thank you, because you two have taught me to sleep sitting up. And this is a talent much appreciated on overseas flights. And payback is seeing your father (who has slept 8 hours a night approximately 1,078 times in 3 years) not be able to sleep on the plane, even after the cocktails, bottle of wine and cognac after dinner. :) Ah, sweet revenge.

My eyes are blurry...

Our hotel serves what I would call Amero-talian breakfast. Great coffee, espresso and bread. Soppressata, proscuitto and cheese, scrambled eggs & hot dogs (okay, not Oscar Meyer but some kind of hot dog like thing!) I will be eating Nutella stuffed croissants EVERY morning.

We might have been slightly piggy after our travel day since Jeff says at the end of the meal, "My eyes are blurry that breakfast was so good."

Off we go...

Day 1, International Travel sans monkey children.

Let me sum it up. LOVE international flights. The movies, the almost decent food, the free drinks.

Our hotel has a square toilet, which might be the most uncomfortable thing ever.

Bose noise canceling headphones may be the coolest invention ever.

I think some of the aggression problems in America could be solved by selling Chianti for $6/bottle every 3 feet.

And now, some hotel jet lag pics, taken during the disastrous Verizon phone call (and no, Verizon you cannot send a text, because the phone that you said would work, does NOT.)