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Laura's Blog
Talking Dirty in Foreign Languages

Vaga-Blog - Volume I
My Vagabond Summer Begins
Skinny Jeans and Cigarettes
Don't Teach Your Kids To Drive Like This
What's Italian For 'That's a Lovely Speedo'
"For You, I Have Special Price"
Sam Comes To Italy To Go To Ferragamo. Ferragamo Is Closed.
The Grocery Store Is Out Of Pasta
This Isn't Pork!
Four Courses And A Wedding
Look At What My Dog Found In The Grass
Who Needs Barilla When You Have Donatella?
That's Why Men Like Grapes

Vaga-Blog - Volume II
How Many Tunnels Does It Take To Get To France
Boars And Bees And Gypsies, Oh My!
Mas de Chain Saw Massacre
My Lawyer's Not Afraid Of Your Lawyer
No, We Don't Have Reservations. Is That A Problem?
What's So Funny About My French?
YOU Belong To The Vegas Party Club?
Mom Discovers Her Inner Lady Marmalade
You Prayed For What?

The Potato Babe
Roussillon: Steve's $7,000 Bill
Oppede: Which Way To Apt
Apt: No Tablecloth For You!
Avignon: Raise Your Hand If You've Seen Elizabeth Taylor Naked
Bonnieux: Gratin of Edouard Loubet's Grandmother
Aix-en-Provence: Is That A Bunny In Your Fanny Pack?
Dordogne: The Search For Walnut Oil
Issigeac: It Depends On How Much Pie We Drink
Domme: Steve And Laura's Favorite Restaurant In The World
Beynac: Out Of Breath? Me?
Biron: Happy Bastille Day
Barcelona: On The Road Again

Guest Vaga-Bloggers
Potato Boy
 

Vaga-Blog - Volume I - Florence (June 1)

SAM COMES TO ITALY TO GO TO FERRAGAMO.
FERRAGAMO IS CLOSED

This morning I drove back into Florence to meet Sam, Vagabond Gourmet’s master of all things techie. He’s just flown in from San Francisco to spend the week with us and teach us how to get the Vagabond Diaries up and running.

Sam decides early in the day that he needs an alias, and he’s going to try to convince our guests of his new personality. We settle on Sammy Salami from Genoa. Sam knows a bit of Italian, and he speaks it loud enough to be convincing. It reminds me of when my Dad used to speak loudly to foreign-born gas station workers, thinking the increased volume would somehow change the fact that they still don’t speak English. Sam gets a total kick out of the word Pecorino (the favorite cheese of Tuscany), so you don’t need a thesaurus to figure out the jokes that ensue.

Sam had told me over the phone about Florence’s Ferragamo store and how much he loves it. He’d honestly told me three times. He was so excited you could almost hear his heart beating faster as we approached. He wanted a new shirt. He could use a new tie. Maybe even shoes if he finds the right pair. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but here I am. Sorry Sammy, but Ferragamo is closed. They’d had some sort of water leak, and they won’t let anyone in. The clothes are right there, an inch out of our reach. And they won’t let us in. Sam is practically standing in the doorway with his wallet open, and he is denied. They did invite him to visit the women’s side, but his mojo was gone. He didn’t even find any humor in Dr. Speedo greeting us with a glass of his handmade Sangiovese after we schlepped our way back to the hotel.

Thank goodness tomorrow we’ll find salvation when Laura, Steve and our guests arrive.

Times we asked if Ferragamo was really closed: 3 (really? REALLY?)
Salami jokes you can think of after ½ liter of house wine at lunch: 847
Miles it took me, Sam and Blue Betty to navigate the 20 mile drive out of Florence: 42


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