We staggered into Rome Saturday afternoon, all of us pretty burned up from 13 hours of flight time from Portland to Amsterdam to Rome. We almost had to bail on our trip — and after all those hours of trying to hear the television over the sound of Courtenay learning Italian — because Will came home Thursday night exhausted and feverish again, apparently down with his second virus in about three weeks. We talked about trying to delay things, come later, but the doctor on Friday pronounced Will more or less good to go, and he, as always, was game.

The flight to Amsterdam seemed long to us, but probably not to the mother from Dunthorpe who situated her two young children, ages 4 and 6, with their nanny in coach, and then spent the whole flight sitting in first class, coming back exactly once during the nine-hour flight to check on the kids. Not a mother of the year candidate. I spent the flight with the sweet little girl’s kicking feet on my lap.

We are happily situated in Hotel Raphael, near the Piazza Navone in downtown Rome. It was very crowded on the cobblestone streets tonight, and Will was too tired to deal well with the traffic and the crowds. We had a terrific pizza, so light and crispy, hit a gelato shop and returned to the hotel. Courtenay’s ambitious night walk, with the Trevi Fountain, Pantheon, Spanish Steps and other highlights, will have to wait.

Hope everyone is doing well at home.