Daniel wanted an excursion a little less conventional than our Lago di Bolsena outing over the weekend, so he showed us a picture of a high bridge that led across to an ancient village (whose caves were dug out of the rock by the Etruscans, the predecessors to the Romans).  We agreed on another lake visit (by another town on the lake) after the ancient town visit.  We missed our ETD by only 90 minutes, getting into the car by about 11:30am.

Bagnoregio turned out to be the most touristy spot we hit yet -- exactly not Daniel's type of outing (though he really liked it).  We followed the other tourists along the road, up to the bridge (where we paid 25 Euro to go over the bridge and up to the city), over the bridge, up the steep climb to the city itself.  We explored the Etruscan caves, the chiesa in the main piazza, the views, the ancient olive presses.  We sat for a long, relaxing lunch on the piazza.  (When Mary and I did moments tonight, lunch was my good moment.  I didn't even have to think.  I knew it as it was happening, sitting there, sipping cappuccino.)

We'll remember walking, running, and hiking up the bridge; exploring the dark, cool caves; and the city high up almost in the air, but what we'll likely remember most will be the frustrating, the sweet, the funny at Bagnoregio:

• Daniel's parking the Fiat dangerously close (one and a half inches to spare, Sebastian noted) to a wall and my cringing and closing my eyes and protesting; 
• the woman in the cute white skirt and blue top whose hat blew off her head as she and her man crossed back over the bridge, and their searching for the hat below afterwards unsuccessfully;
• an Italian man's asking us, "Where are you from?  Your accents are really good."  At first we were excited, then we realized that he was talking about our pronunciation and accents in English;
• my thinking that four and a half hours was more than enough for the parking meter for our excursion and then our rushing back to avoid a ticket.

By the time we reached the town of Bolsena on Lago di Bolsena, what I had envisioned as another low-key lake visit became a lesson in patience for me: the thunder rolled, the skies darkened, and I had serious internal turmoil going on about the frustrations (all fair) of our tenant back at home. As Daniel filled me in on major appliances not working back at home, I could feel, even here on a summer vacation Italy day, my insides go tight, my heart beat fast (or was that the cappucino, I wondered), even as I just sat in the car.  Instead of a the calm, sunny, lovely lake afternoon I had envisioned, I stood there cold inside and out, getting wet by the rain as the kids jumped and splashed and screamed in the lake and as Daniel (not as concerned about non-working appliances) counted the seconds from lightning to thunder, estimating how many miles away the storm was.  I was ready to go back to Viterbo; the kids were happy to play in the lake, tempting the storm.  Daniel joined them, I put money in the parking meter (limiting this aspect of the outing to one hour), and then I waited out their playing, the storm, my inner angst.

One of the kids said, "Now today was a real adventure."  And by adventure, he meant this playing and splashing in the lake and in the rain, making their own fun, being out in the storm, throwing each other through the air.

What they'll remember from Lago di Bolsena today:

• staying in the water as long as they possibly could while it rained and thundered until Daniel said, "That's it!  Everyone out!"
• hiding out on the veranda of a hotel across the street from the lake, under cover, until the storm let up.

At lunch I felt pure ordinary joy as we all sat there crowded around a table sharing a meal.  Peace.  And I thought, This is perfect.  This is what I want.  And I thought that any second anything could change (yes, that's life with kids, and maybe, that's also just life) because someone could get upset or argue or break a glass or just anything (or in just life, someone gets sick or hurt or dies).  But that moment was one of those moments I want to bottle up, that I can always go back to as a moment of simple, pure, together good.

Daniel didn't get the experience he was expecting at Bagnoregio, and I didn't get the experience I was expecting at Bolsena.  This is okay.  I got lunch, and he got less conventional lake time with the kids -- no boat or toys or other people.  Just the lake, the kids, the rain.