After 27 hours aloft, all we want is a comfy hotel bed, despite the fact we have arrived in Venice.
So panic turns to euphoria as, after some searching, we spot a handsome young man running into the Venice arrivals hall clutching a EuroVista Tours sign.
Whisked off to the adjoining jetty, we board a water taxi and are just settled into the deep leather seats when the high-pitched whine of a powerful motorboat cuts across the choppy water.
It is almost on top of us before our pilot twists the rudder and planes away in a shower of spray.
Some 20 minutes later, we arrive at St Mark's Square.
We pinch ourselves.
We have finally made it to Venice, a city built by ingenuity, a city famed for the finest art and music but also a city whose foundations are corroding as rising seas push high tides to flood levels several times a year.
Our guide, Luce, insists it is only a five-minute walk to our hotel so with bells chiming, violins playing and pigeons flapping, we push, squeeze and edge our way between dawdling tourists to the sanctuary of the hotel lobby.
Throwing open the bedroom shutters, we gaze down at a row of bobbing gondoliers and the scores of tourists willing to part with $250 for a 20-minute must-do experience.
Staying with the local time zone and deciding some exploring on foot would be exciting, we venture out into the labyrinth of narrow alleys, admiring the Venetian-Byzantine architecture, exotic hidden gardens, piazzas and numerous elegant bridges until we are hopelessly lost.
Finally defeated by fatigue, we soon figure out that by following the arrows pointing to St Mark's, we will eventually find our hotel.
Reinvigorated next morning, we set out at daybreak, eager to see St Mark's without the hordes of tourists that will follow later and happy to share the world's greatest drawing room with the street sweepers.
In the half-light, the Basilica di San Marco and the adjoining Doge's Palace (Palazzo Ducale) cast an air of mystery, but with the water starting to lap at our heels, it is time to withdraw.
Day three marks the beginning of a leisurely routine of driving, most days, to a new destination.
Slipping into coach life is made easy by Fred, our obliging tour leader.
Handling small groups is not without its trials and tribulations but Fred's amazing Italian vocabulary, along with his good humour, smooths the way.
After a lightning tour of Verona, we headed for Stresa, a stunning lakeside resort on Lake Maggiore.
Our Mercedes motors along like a dream and Nino, our Italian coach driver, conducts proceedings with liberal use of the horn, a certain amount of fist waving and an evil eye for any who dare to make a wrong turn.
Stresa exudes elegance and wealth, with its exquisite classical villas and graceful hotels.
From the balcony of our hotel, the views stretch across manicured gardens and Lake Maggiore to the Swiss Alps in the north, and south to the Borromean Islands. Of course, most have heard of Cinque Terre, a rocky, rugged coastline with its bays and quaint fishing villages, the clusters of stone cottages teetering on the edge of the steep cliffs.
After a few hours exploring Milan and skirting La Spezia, an historic naval port, we arrive at Portovenere.
The hotel that will be home for the next two days comes with the most stunning views over this quaint seafaring village.
Originally a nunnery, the hotel was built as part of a medieval settlement whose narrow lanes, populated by busy boutiques and cafes, all lead to the remains of a magnificent castle resting on the cliff top.
The easiest way to access the surrounding hamlets and coastal walks is by ferry.
We spill out of the ferry at Riomaggiore and wander through the pedestrian lanes and jumbled villas until we join a walkway carved into the cliff face with heart-stopping views of the sea below.
Strangely, hundreds of padlocks hang from the handrails and wire netting.
The explanation is that couples pledge their love to each other and then attach the padlock before throwing away the key - how romantic is that?Back aboard the ferry, our voyage includes three more stops: Comiglia, Vernazza and Monterosso.
These gorgeous tiny villages have remained largely unchanged for centuries and are so beautiful we almost didn't come home
As we head south, the Amalfi Coast provides one of the world's most spectacularly scenic drives.
The terrain slopes vertically to the crystal waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea as the road winds around blind curves and traverses countless sheer cliffs.
Cameras click madly, capturing crumbling fortifications and buildings carved into the rock face.
We are based in Positano for the next three days, from where we explore Amalfi.
Each morning, we set off to explore the narrow cobbled streets and indulge in some retail therapy, but let's just say that the seductive Italian fashion is not wallet-friendly.
Down at the beach, we discover the rich pay to sunbathe in roped-off areas, while the free part is a narrow gravel strip with just enough room for a beach towel.
Local guide Alexandria, looking snug and fabulous in tight white jeans, a Gucci bag slung over her shoulder, escorts us to Capri.
Tourists have been coming here for centuries.
Just one road winds and twists its way from the marina, where we left the ferry, to Anacapri on the far side of the island.
The road is so narrow that vehicles have barely inches to spare when passing.
On the seaward side, the drop is sheer.
At the Blue Grotto, we gingerly descended a narrow track to find a line of boats discharging visitors into small dinghies to enter the grotto itself.
"Lie down until we are inside," shouts our helmsman, and with waves crashing over the boat, we enter the cavern.
Peering through the darkness, we are drawn towards the iridescent blue pool where a small shaft of sunlight pierces the water.
We sit cramped for two minutes while our helmsman lamely sings a line from That's Amore.
It is the island's biggest con.
A German couple tell us they paid three times, first for the tour, then for the helmsman to enter the cave, then a tip for the guide.
But Capri is still a delight to explore.
From the shops to the cafes, the narrow flower-lined streets to the sparkling ocean views, there is so much beauty, so much to see.
Midday in Minori brings the realisation that there are still some things we don't know about Italy.
Our party of nine has been invited to lunch with an Italian family and as Gennaro emerges from his charming villa, greetings are followed by the traditional kisses - left cheek, then right, then is it back to the left again? Who cares, as they treat us as long-lost friends.
Glasses of chilled wine arrive and Anna, the grandmother, offers us her delicious crunchy zucchini-flower fritters.
We offer a toast, finally enjoying an Italian home-cooked meal.
Food, Italy, and the simple joy of eating.
Each course is "bellissimo - molto bene".
Gennaro urges everyone: "mangiate, mangiate" - "eat, eat" - until finally, the piece de resistance, a bottle of sweet heady limoncello arrives as the final digestif.
We all drank to that.
FRred had forewarned us.
"As we leave Sorrento and make our way through Naples to Pompeii, prepare yourselves for a shock.
After the beautiful and charming places we have visited, you're now going to experience some of the worst urban ugliness in Italy ."
And so it is, grey concrete apartment blocks scrawled with graffiti, festering rubbish piles on every street, chaotic traffic.
Upon reaching the entrance gates at Pompeii, we smugly produce umbrellas (we remembered the oppressive heat from our last visit, 30 years ago) while our fellow passengers perspire and fan themselves with guide maps.
Pompeii's treasures include an amphitheatre and noble villas, a bakery with its oven intact, Roman baths, plaster casts of victims' bodies frozen in time at the moment of death and a pillar with a stone engraving of a penis, pointing the way to a brothel where frescoes are explicit about what was on offer.
Eventually, the heat leads to exhaustion and we are happy to return to the comforts of our air-conditioned coach.
Departing for Rome Airport for our flight home, our chatty young taxi driver tells us life is very difficult in the city.
"I can't get a proper job, I can't get my kids into a good school, I can't get a decent flat without having to pay.
"Everyone wants money, everybody is corrupt. It's always been like this, even since the Romans."
Well, maybe so, but that won't stop us from coming back.
If you go
Getting there: Emirates flies three times daily from Auckland and once daily from Christchurch direct to Venice and Rome.
Where to stay:
Venice: Hotel Liassidi Palace.
Rome: Hotel Relais di Trevi.
Other places/items of interest: Pisa, The Last Supper (Milan), Milan Cathedral, Monte Casino.
Watch out for: Pickpockets and crazy drivers.
Background reading: Italy, by Lonely Planet, Michelin on Italy.
Further information: EuroVista Holidays has small-group tours throughout Europe.
For a 2011 brochure, contact EuroVista Holidays on 0800 850 800 or log on to www.eurovista.travel.
• Auckland-based travel writers Dennis and Rosamund Knill were assisted by House of Travel, Emirates, Rail Plus and Southern Cross Travel Insurance.
