Today is Chicago-Newark-Milan, and with 7 hours lost to the time change, travel is about all we’ll do.

I finished reading the beautiful and terribly sad “The Book Thief” on the flight to Newark. Wept openly over the last 25 pages, to the puzzlement of the Italian man in our row and the curiosity of the fully-habited crucifix-wearing nun across the aisle and the probable embarrassment of my husband next to me.

Now we are using our last minutes of US wireless data access to learn as many nuances of ordering coffee in Italy as possible. The internets tell me NO CAPPUCCINO ORDERING after 11am, you Starbucks-swilling American boor! Is this true, oh wizened travelers?