After two days at Ramstein AFB, Germany, a couple of long hot baths, and lots of laundry, we headed south towards the Tuscan sunshine.  In fact, Jean had “Under the Tuscan Sun” in her audible book library so we listened to it on our long drive to Italy.  It passed the time and made us anticipate our arrival even more.

We have traveled this route before and, it is truly, stunningly beautiful by any measure.  We last traveled this road with our dear friends, Jerry and Colleen Michaelis, last fall when we rode the tour bus down from Ramstein.

Our plan was to stop on Bolzano, Italy, just south of the Brenner Pass, to visit our old friend “Utzi” the ice man at the archeological museum there.  You might remember that he was discovered, frozen in the ice of the Tyrolian Alps, near the border of Austria and Italy about twenty years ago.  After a long dispute, he ended up an Italian citizen and resides in the Bolzano Archaological Museum.  We visited the museum in 2001 and we wanted a repeat visit so we could capture some photos and video for our granddaughter, Bella.  Bella is absolutely fascinated with all things archeological.  Unfortunately, our plans were dashed by endless road construction and traffic jams.  When we arrived in Bolzano, the museum was already closed.  The best laid plans,…………right?

We’ll just press on and go to Vicenza, Italy for a couple of days.

Back on the road I carefully programmed my GPS to take us to the middle of nowhere.  That was NOT my intention but that is exactly what happened.  My lovely traveling companion/navigator/wife, trusty map book in hand, told me on numerous occasions that it appeared to her that we were going the wrong way.  Did I listen?  Noooooooooooooo!  I am, after all, a man, and deeply in love with my electronic gadgets.  It turns out, Jean was right and the seductive voice inside the GPS thingy was leading us into the hinterlands of the Dolomite mountains.  When I finally gave in and listened, we were about fifty miles out of our way.  We navigated through the byways and small towns of northern Italy until we found Vicenza.  Voila!  Now what?  We had a suite reserved at the Army Base there but where the heck is the Army Base?  Naturally, our worthless GPS was no longer speaking to us after the last debacle so we made our  way to the train station where reckoned we could ask someone.  That worked out about as well as the GPS.  It seems that no one could speak enough English to direct us and my command of the Italian language ends at cappuccino.

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We finally located a young lady who was kind enough to draw us a crude map on the back of a napkin.  Giddy with the anticipation of a hot shower and a queen size bed, we made our way there only to find the gate closed and locked.  We drove around the fence line of the base until we found a place that looked very official with a guard at the entrance .  I kept the motor running (it’s 10PM now) while Jean goes to ask.  It turns out we were at the main entrance of the local jail.  Good news however, this had happened before apparently, and the guard held up a sign in English directing us to the 24 hour gate of the base which was nearby.

Well we came for an adventure right?  We both had showers and a bite to eat before collapsing into bed.

Note to self:  Jack Daniels does not pair well with peanut butter and crackers.