As a child, my family pretty much vacationed at the same two places in Southwest Florida. From the time I was four until even today, there was always Maderia Beach and Lido Beach. The comfort in these types of vacations was that every year we could relax, explore the surrounding areas without the rush that we’d never return again. We developed a game for finding those hidden gems about these places. Now that I am older and practically exploring completely new territory as an expat everyday, this last trip was a bit of reprieve from the total submersion into the unfamiliar. Once again, we revisited Southern France - this time equipped with our mountain bikes, this time with more French under our belts and this time to awaiting happy and healthy friends and family. 
It never ceases to amaze me how informative she is about the region - giving tips, helping us with the French language and letting us in as to where the grapes are good for a-picking. Gisela also arranged for us to stay with here about 400 meters away from her house at this beautiful bed and breakfast villa called 
We stayed in the Picholine room, so cute with the walls covered with fabric. As promised the second installment of my impressions of Rome during our weekend stay. I’m still rummaging through the photos..
Gelateria
The first gelato I had was called CioccoChocco or something similar. It was double chocolate with coconut flakes -a heavenly balance of cool, cream, and chocolatey goodness. It would be hard to go back to Germany knowing there would always be better gelato here in Rome. And after this one scoop, it will be impossible to convince myself to accept an ice cream in the U.S. The Marble Slab has nothing on this Italian gelato! My second scope was Pistachio. Oh. It tasted so nutty and not too sweet. Just whatever you do here in Rome, don’t go Giolitti Gelateria. The gelato taste like it’s made from powder. Yeah there might be over 50 flavors but you have to wait in a line sometimes stretching out of the door to get your fake gelato. Go anywhere else -like San Crispino, Via della Panetteria 42. They offer Gelato without preservatives and artificial coloring. I had the licorice gelato, ah divine and unique!
The Others
There are few people begging on the streets, most I saw were women. So sad. On our way back to our B&B, a man with a big belly made attempts to sleep in his car under a pile of newspapers. Another time, we walked by a man with a ridiculously unkept toupee. Odd because although the majority of men where dressed shabby, the hair remained flawless. Watch out for the men from India selling roses, they are aggressive little buggers. When it rains they ditch the flowers for umbrellas. If you are brave enough to walk without an umbrella on such an occasion you must also brave the Umbrella pushers. They are at every corner and shoving their collection in your face.
Security
Don’t scratch your butt in public -on the streets, that is. There are cameras at every corner and incrementally if it is an especially long building. “Don’t you feel unusually safe? A creepy safe” I waved at a few cameras, not like they’ll notice. Who can watch all that security footage? There are cops everywhere doing less than cop stuff -nothing. I spotted one leaning against the car eating ice cream. With so little ‘cop’ exercise it was good to know that a few cops had a telephone cord attached to their gun in case it happened to spring from their holsters.
Tally up the Flirts
So a graying, thin haired man in a suit guarding the side tunnel to Vatican Wall near the Piazza Risorgimento gave me a Ciao bella after I looked up at him with a smile. It was by accident, I’d say, because I was happily scrolling through our pictures at that very moment. It was cute. I got the most attention when the boys got to talking about cars and fell into their natural man cadence, leaving me behind to get further distracted. Another encounter happened again at the Piazza del Popolo. As I was walking by the church of Santa Maria del Popolo when a man in a suit spoke in Italian to me. I almost answered him in German because I’ve been speaking German almost exclusively with the boys and any time I hear a foreign accent my brain switches to the only foreign language it knows, although English is universal. He then spoke in English and told me there is a very beautiful painting inside the church. Then he said that he was surprised I didn’t speak Italian because I look Italian. Oh? I look Italian? There’s another nationality tally I can add to my list proving I’m morphing Betty Crocker’s cousin.
