Me in Melange

Day 19 & 20: Focaccia, Red Balls, Travel Patterns and Lakes

I can only speak for myself, but I know when I travel for long periods of time I go thru a cycle. I am so excited when I arrive, and that lasts for at least two to three weeks, and then I start getting a little tired somewhere near the 3 week mark. I start missing home, my routine, my “normal”. It always happens, even when I’m having fun, even when I wouldn’t go home if I could. It’s like the body wants to go back to the muscle memory of pattern/normal life and you have to push past it and make your new reality your new habit…and your new “comfortable.”  After you push past it you get the benefits of being where ever you are on a different level...less like a fly by tourist, and more immersed and exposed to the details of the culture.

We are just at that point now, and you couple that with John’s broken foot, and the fact the internet is spotty and there aren’t enough dish towels in the kitchen. Well, you’ve got a stressful day in there…maybe two. Part of it is helped by the fact I know this pattern in myself, I know I will have a lull in my travel energy and so I can anticipate it and brace for it and keep it under wraps (at least sort of).  It was harder his time because of my immobile partner though, so basically I have 5 kids right now.  "Honey, can you get me another bottle of water?"  Why does that make me want to kill him??  There is no good reason and it says nothing good about me that's for sure...still, I did want to kill him just a little.

We spent a day in full lounge mode, poolside, and doing not a lot more than eating, and cooking, and letting John hobble around as little as possible. The kids were excited, they went back and forth from the pool, to primping and getting dressed, to the pool again, back to primping. The older girls were totally in their zone, and other than going to gelato twice with them, I didn’t hear a peep out of them.  

I took John into town along with the little kids, and we went to the pharmacy for his meds (he gets the pleasure of taking a shot each morning in his stomach of some anti-coagulant drug that I’m pretty sure would be a pill if we were in the US.) We bought blow up toys for the pool, mosquito combat material (Italy and mosquitos are one with each other). We stopped in the tiny butcher and bought steaks for dinner, in the fruit/veggie little store for potatoes, zucchini, figs, basil and purple eggplant, and lastly the bakery/bread shop where we bought focaccia drenched in olive oil, these sugar rolled red balls that you see everywhere and I was dying to try, and a big loaf of bread (salted).  FYI, the red balls tasted like dark chocolate, with vanilla cake around it, then red velvet cake around that, and then rolled in chunky sugar.  Not bad.  There’s some line of divide in Italy (not quite sure where), and apparently on one side they bake the bread with salt, and the other not. Apparently we still get a choice either way here in Umbria.

At some point during the day I started to feel completely overwhelmed with the reality of John’s leg, the heat, the crush of things being different and it all feeling more tiring than normal or than it should be. I think that really was the crux of it, fatigue, and not just in the sense of not sleeping enough the night before, but in the sense of the fatigue of trying hard to do normal things day in and day out when “normal” isn’t normal—it’s all new.  I've bought no less than 5 "cream" looking milk products for my coffee only to find they were NOT in fact cream.  Stuff like that.

My episode of freak out I think I kept very low key and generally to myself and I didn't even cry even though I sort of felt like it. I did express some of it to John who said “I thought you said everything would be fine?” Uh, yeah, I DID say that, and it will, but I still need a moment to panic, be overwhelmed, and want home.   This is the thing, I wanted to freak out longer, but I don't get that luxury or indulgence because the kids just want to have fun and only look to us for direction in attitude.  I think John wanted to freak out a little too about his leg, but he sucked it up for the same reason.  Now the freak out is over.

The next day was adventure day, and I felt better equipped for it. We are a party of 10 now, with the addition of our friends and two kids, so any adventure involving 10 people, is bound to be….well, a little bit of everything and mostly loads of fun. We hit Lake Bolzano, which was great, involved a surprisingly warm lake, swimming, some yummy beach spritzer drink....lots of kid fun.

Romeo found “Mischief”, this guilty looking dog that was our dog of the day. If you look that guilty, you probably just did something fun (like eat six red balls and a cappuccino, uhh...not like I would know anything about that type of behavior). 

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 17 & 18: Groovin’ Parents, Four Steps, and Friends

I know I went ghost on everyone, but I’ve got a good reason. First, I will speed you thru our departure from Lake Como, after which we met with John (fun for everyone) and headed south. It’s a long drive to begin with, but traffic was bad in parts, so let’s just say, it was a LONG day.   The drive is about 5 hours without traffic.

We arrived at our house which is outside a little village called Ficukle, which is in Umbria (about 20 km south of Tuscany). It’s rolling
hills, vineyards, tiny villages. Beautiful, peaceful, countryside. The house we are staying in is enormous, a meandering old Italian farm house, everything stone, and an eclectic mish-mash of decorations, art, and “stuff”. Everything looks like it’s been here forever, because it probably has. The “tavern” is a great big dining area with a stone fireplace, arched walkway, and next to it another big living room/dining area, with another huge table, indoor pizza oven, and grill, sink, and huge pots and pans that look like they were from a working kitchen 200 years ago.

Anyway, it took us the early evening and night to unpack, get settled, find some basic groceries etc. John seemed a little in shock at the noise level and general energy level. He’s been out of practice these past two weeks and general experiencing a quiet and chill pattern and then transported himself (first class and peaceful I might add) to the polar opposite.

What I will also say is that it always takes us 2-3 days to get our groove back on when we co-parent again.   I have my way, he has his way, and they don’t exactly merge in the middle. Plus when you solo parent you have to do it in a different manner than when co-parenting….there are different structures that you have to implement in order to stay sane.   I find myself having internal dialogues where I try to curb my irritation because I know he’s undoing the schedule, or structure, or rules that I have meticulously constructed in order to keep the system functioning. We have to give it at least 48 hours for the flow to readjust to accommodate (happily), both of us. What I’m saying is the relief of having a partner there isn’t immediate….it takes a bit.

The second day in Ficulle was spent grocery shopping, figuring out where everything in our house was, a little pool time, and waiting for our good friends to arrive—happily a day early-- (which would immediately make Ava and Lucia happy since their friends Tessa and Sasha are dear, dear childhood friends that they liken to “family”….they call them cousins). It was a great day all around, big family dinner at night, overall great, fun times.

We situated our bedroom on the second floor, in this eparate “apartment” floor, one side was a kitchen/dining area, then steps leading up to a bedroom area with 3 big beds and a fireplace that separated the beds and big room. We figured this would be good because Gia and Romeo could be with us and it would make keeping track of them easier since the house is big and they probably wouldn’t want to be far away. It was perhaps 11 p.m., and John was exhausted (jet lag catching up), so was I….I was already in bed, John was messing with some electronics down in the kitchen area. Little kids were long ago asleep. John manages to somehow find ALL the lights and turn off every single one of them in the apartment. He walks toward the bed and I explain that it’s WAY too dark, if the kids wake up they won’t have any point of reference in the new space and it’s not safe (the night before I left the bathroom light on so that the apartment essentially had a nightlight). So John turns around to put a light on, and goes to walk down the stairs to the kitchen/dining area, miscounts the steps, doesn’t account for the last (fourth) step (because of course, it’s pitch dark), and lands on his foot with the side of the foot folding in. We ice it, he’s convinced he broke it…I think perhaps it’s just bruised or tweaked/sprained bad and we give him two Tylenol and go to bed.

It’s broken, and confirmed by the Italian hospital the next day. His cast (and I mean a REAL cast…not an airboot), comes just below his knee. Minimum four weeks, potentially 49 days, and if the bones don’t aligned properly in a week, surgery. That’s right. He’s on crutches…no swimming, no driving, and that’s that.

So what can you do really? Nothing, you just make the best of it. Definitely chances the landscape of the next two weeks while he’s here, but like I told him, it’s still Italy, it’s still beautiful, we are still with all kinds of wonderful friends the entire time we are here that we love, and we are together. We are going to dwell on what we do have, no what he’s missing.

John’s bummed, but he’s an authentically chill guy to the core, and he manages to always keep things in perspective. Sure, he’s disappointed, but he’s rebounding quick.  

We had an amazing dinner of these gorgeous pork steaks, roasted potatoes and green
beans, all cooked on this grill in an indoor fireplace on old pans from long ago with history and pantina. We drank tons of wine, and the kids laughed and had fun. You can’t really get much better. It might just be too much to have all that AND no broken bones.

Romeo’s dog of the weekend was Leftie here. He had a jacked up left ear, and a white left foot. He’s small, but he looks like he could do some damage if he wanted to.  

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 16: Bunk beds, Amazing People & Crystal Menaggio

Our last day in this area, and our last day SOLO without John.   It’s cause for celebration, but everyone is too hot and sticky to do more than just a “yah, daddy comes tomorrow”.  I'm sure their enthusiasm runs deeper than that though, and I think tomorrow will be fantastic.

We considered going to Milan today, leaving here a day early and staying in the city for the night, but that seemed a little overwhelming to schlepp all our stuff to a new place for less than a day, in 91 degree weather. That’s just a lot of work and even though this is one of my least liked apartments (uncomfortable beds and only two bedrooms), I think it’s probably easier to just hold on one more day.   I’ve slept the last TWO nights in the top bunk of a child’s bunkbed set. I’m not going to lie, it’s not been fun. Romeo starts out desperately wanting the top bunk, Gia doesn’t want it because she slept there one night and somehow managed to hit her head. There’s also a twin bed in the room (also not comfortable, but at least I don’t feel like I’m going to break it every time I move around).

I went in to the room at midnight and Romeo had come down from the bunk bed, and was laying half on the beanbag that was on the floor, and half on the actual floor. He’s too heavy to lift back into the top bunk so I moved him to my bed and had to hoist myself up to the top to sleep. You couple that with these weird, incredibly firm pillows (they literally feel like a heavy blanket folded up), and it makes for some less than superior sleep. The great part about this place is the outdoor space, which looks out on the lake, has big dining tables, is filled with flowers and jasmine, and entirely beautiful. Who needs sleep when you have a beautiful view? Actually, I really need both.

We tackled something very low key today, we chose another town on the “list of places to see in the Lake Como area”. Menaggio. Only 24 km away, it was an easier drive, and therefore it was actually possible to get the kids into the car without quite as much complaining.

It’s a cute little town, perched on the side of a mountain and along the water, not as big as Bellagio or as touristy, but very charming. I encouraged/forced Ava to bring this little green backpack (that is actually suppose to be a laundry bag) so that she would have a place to put her phone, wallet and water, and she gave me this look which sums up her feeling on the matter. “If I’m going to look bad with this ugly thing, I’m not even going to bother posing.”

We did some strolling, some Panini eating…some Limoncello buying (for John), and when the heat started to melt everyone’s mood, we got back into the car. We have this little Renault, which by European car standards isn’t small (technically a 7 seater), but it’s small by U.S. standards (and I drive a suburban, so really small by mine). The AC full blast doesn’t ever seem to really get cold enough, it’s like the poor little car can’t drive AND divert enough energy to the AC. Lucia is sandwiched in between Romeo and Gia in the backseat with their two booster seats, and I’m pretty sure that makes it 10 degrees warmer than everywhere else, so she complained nonstop. ‘Mommmmyyyyy, I’m hot, you don’t understand, I’m hhhoooootttttt”. I think I heard a version of that about 147 times. She was definitely the least equipped to deal today. 

We had a big group dinner with my friend Heather and her three kids in the evening. We made the kids walk to the mini market and get stuff, and then we made them collectively make dinner (I will say, her kids were the only ones who didn’t complain). Ava acts weird around boys, any boys, even boys she’s known since she was 9, like Max.   Heather and I sat outside and drank cold beer which was wonderful (I had forgot about beer after Germany…when you are in Italy you just feel like you should be drinking wine but it’s so hot beer was better).

Heather and her kids came to Normandy to spread the ashes of Ted, her husband, who died this past December. It’s been heartbreaking and inspirational to watch her deal with her grief, and define the world (as it is now) for her kids. She’s amazing, and just sitting with her reminds me to try and have a better perspective. I don’t know if I can fathom anything close to what it must be like to look thru the eyes of someone who has gone thru what she has, but what I have seen of her and her kids humbles me and makes me desperately want to remember to not worry about things that don’t matter, and to hold tight to what you are blessed to have in that moment..

Anyway, she’s hysterical, and my time with her was too short.

Romeo’s dog of the day was Crystal Menaggio (which is either a striper name, or some illegal street drug), this persnickety thing refused to even look at the camera. You got the feeling she thought she was too good for people.  

Tomorrow, Umbria….and a co-parent. 

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 15: Vegas, Risk Assessment and Ernie Wonky Eye.

Want to know the crazy thing? Italy only has a traffic death rate of 6.03 in 100,000. That’s low.   United States is 9.99 !!!! It’s actually more dangerous to drive a car in the U.S. Iran is 43.54, India 20.74, and Costa Rica 12.84 (just a few highlights). I’m totally shocked, but I figured after analyzing the drive today, that my fears had to be more inflated than the reality of risk. Go to Sweden, it’s 2.36…and the Maldives is the lowest at 1.05.  I just blew your mind didn't I ?

OK, and one more thing…while I’m being the annoying distributor of facts. At birth my life expectancy, if I was born in Italy, would be 85…in the U.S. it’s only 81. I have a better chance of living longer in Italy. Fact, I’m not lying. Google it.  I think it’s the wine and the cheese. That’s probably not factual, but it’s a hunch.

We drove to Bellagio, and most people just know the fake cousin Bellagio that resides in Las Vegas. Apparently this is the real Italian inspiration for said fake cousin. Bellagio is 52 km away, so not far, but it’s well over an hour on the winding, mountain roads. It’s narrow, there’s no bike lane, places that barely fit two cars, places that definitely don’t fit two cars….I was a nervous wreck the whole time. Yet I saw bikers (as in bicycles with guys on them wearing tight spandex bike clothes). Some had helmets, some didn’t even have helmets. I saw a young woman on a bike, no helmet, talking on her cell phone…she one handed these roads. So when I got home I Googled death rates. They aren’t nearly what I thought. So there you go, it's apparently safer to drive here than the U.S. I find that really hard to believe…but unless the world heath death rate reporting agency is lying, it’s true.

Bellagio is cool though…very touristy, but still had enough charm to compensate. We strolled around, had lunch, gelato (of course), had
 time to light a candle in yet another beautiful church.  I bought a sunhat in a hat shop, and before I tried it on they put a tissue liner in the hat??  Have you ever heard of that??  I've seen pantyliners in swimsuits, and face covers to protect clothing from makeup...but a head liner to protect a hat from head juice and/or lice?  I was sort of a little weirded out by that.  I guess it's hot, and sweaty....I guess I wouldn't want someone else's head juice on the hat either.  OK, I'm over it.  I'm glad I bought a head-juice-free hat after all.  Here's to hat liners.

We then turned around for the long drive back in 90 degree weather. It’s HOT, and a little traumatizing coming from the cool weather we had in Germany and Austria. It’s like the heat zaps all your energy right out of your body and leaves you a shell of a person by the afternoon. You fill that shell with some white wine, you get one killer dehydration headache by early evening. Just sayin’.

I would also just like to note that in case you haven't noticed, Romeo is wearing his man-bag in EVERY picture.  That's the best 12 euros I've spent this entire trip.  He loves that thing, and if anyone accidentally calls it a purse he corrects them and says "it's a man-bag".   I will also note that Ava is STILL not bringing her purse and I have personally witnessed her drop her phone twice since operation-phone-breakdown in Traunstein.  I'm pretty sure in this picture she's got it shoved into her teeny-tiny short pocket...it's probably going to fall out and crack any minute.  

We are staying in an apartment here, and I’m reminded once again that I really do NOT like staying in apartments with kids. You have this unspoken and in this case spoken rule about being quiet.   That’s too much pressure for someone with four kids. I don’t think I have abnormally loud kids, but they definitely aren’t quiet. Well, truthfully some of them might be abnormally loud. Not really sure, it’s overall too noisy to tell. Our landlord keeps sticking his head out of his upper story window and saying in Italian something that I’m pretty sure is “shut the hell up”….but everything in Italian sounds like a sing-song, with an “aaaahhhhh” at the end or an “ini” at the end. Like “shut-the-hell-up-you-super-loud-bambini-with-a-super-irresponsible-mamaaaaaahhhhhhhh--ini”.   Of all the things I do as a parent, “shooshing” them to be quiet over and over again has to be my least favorite.  Also making school lunches, that sucks too.

I’m excited to get to the house in Umbria which is BIG, all ours, and the kids can just shout their brains out somewhere in the opposite end of the house.  

Romeo’s dog of the day is this scruffy fluff ball…somewhere under there is a pretty rad guy. His name is Ernie.  I know it looks like he has a wonky eye, but give him a chance.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 14: Mamma-Sherpa, George, Good Luck Africa & the Walk of Death

Today was our first full day in Carate, and surrounding Lake Como exploration. We set off in the morning, after Ava spent a good deal of time on dressing and preparing (and this included ironing her clothes). Yes, ironing. She arrived at this apartment and her first question was, “where is the iron?” and when it wasn’t found she nearly had a fit and immediately went up stairs to find the landlord to figure out the “iron situation”. Who brings stuff to iron when traveling?? Ava.

So we set off, the two older girls walking ahead all glam'ed out and I behind with the two younger kids feeling like a frumpy sherpa in my sensible walking shoes (my pink Birkenstocks which I love by the way), and my dorky tourist backpack which I also love and is punchy green and cool—but yet, SCREAMS tourist). I’d like to be chic and just carry a cool purse, but then where is the sunscreen, water bottles, sun hats, tylenol for massive headaches….someone has to carry them. Hence, mamma-sherpa. Annoying.  

So we sought out the ferry, and that turned out to be quite the fiasco. We had the schedule, manage to miss the one close to us because it was not clearly marked where it was and the next one wouldn’t arrive for 2 hours. Other option? Walk 25 minutes down the road to the next village. Sounds harmless right?

First, I will note that just along that road, right down from where we are staying is George Clooney’s house (per our landlord who was quite excited about the infamous resident).   I didn’t actually figure out which house it was, but they are all beautiful along the road. The road…which I will affectionately call death highway. It’s not really a highway, more like a quaint two lane speedway. There is no sidewalk, and the road is very narrow, barely room for two cars, with either rod iron fence or stone walls on either side. So walking along the side feels like you literally are putting your life in fate’s hands—or more specifically, the hands of whatever crazy Italian driver might be on the road at that moment. We were single file and even then I kept yelling out, "to THE left, TO the left, GET OVER, to the LEFT!" I sounded like a crazy person.   I stopped to ask this mother pushing a stroller where the ferry was and she gave me directions and I mentioned that the road seemed a little scary and she seemed very blasé about it, telling me she walks it every morning and it’s “fine”. I wonder if by “fine” she just means SHE has never been hit?? Or by “fine” she means “no one ever gets hit” ??

We finally arrived at the ferry dock (and this was the view from the ferry terminal), waited 45 mins and jumped on a boat to Como city.   It’s a beautiful ride along the lake, and Como is a bustling and busy place, with a beautiful church and great shops. We went into the church, and I had forgotten that you need to cover your shoulders (luckily for a small donation you can borrow a scarf), and we lit candles (for more small donations).   

We had gelato, twice. That’s right, twice. It’s amazing. 

We were jumped upon by the “Good Luck to Africa” guys, who had “good luck bracelets” on us and tied before I could even say no (and all the while saying over and over, “it’s good luck to Africa”. It’s quite the racket, they basically “force” you to “donate/buy” their wares by committing you before you even know you are committed. We now all have Good Luck Africa bracelets.  

We came home and made fresh basil raviolis and sat outside along a jasmine filled fence. There’s jasmine EVERYwhere, it’s delicious and I can't scientifically prove it, but I think it's increased my appetite and appreciation of wine by 30%.

Lake Como area is beautiful, but extremely inaccessible. I think I know why George bought a house here (I feel I can call him that since we are practically neighbors). If you could buy an amazing villa right on the water with a high gate , a boat and dock, and “people” to do all your bidding, it would be perfection. Tourists are in the handful of tourist spots, the rest of the lake is one gorgeous boarded up summer home after another, nice and private and inaccessible to everyone.

We’ve got two more days, that’s 48 hours before John arrives and becomes the necessary second set of eyes I need in order to breathe a sigh of relief and act like a normal person. Balance in the universe will soon be restored.

Romeo’s dog of the day was this serious guy, we named him Arnold the Hammer. He looks like he’d win a stare down, and also like he's saying don't mess with mia famiglia or he'll make you disappear.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 13: The Sport Of Driving, Church Alert, Italian Pizza & Barry

My muscles literally ache in my arms. Why you ask?  I drove for 4 hours…in Italy. Driving here is not a passive, sit back, listen to your Audibles book, and enjoy the views kind of driving. It’s an Olympic level sport. You have to have your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel, your hand ready for a lightening speed gear shifts, and your wits have to be fully about you. A lane change takes full attention and quick reflexes and don't think you are just going to chill in the right hand "slow" lane.  Oh no, that's impossible because the trucks reside there, and they will squeeze you out and if they don't, you will just have to suffer in a truck sandwich.  My entire body hurts after today, it feels like I was tensed up and posed for mortal combat.

The first two hours the scenery was magnificent. Some of the most beautiful I have ever seen-EVER.  We basically drove thru a corridor of the Italian Dolomites, so it was a mixture of jagged rock mountains, snow capped mountains in the distance, and green covered mountains with little villages scattered about. There were old castles, and fortresses, and hundreds of churches, all with the same tall tower steeple. We started this car game called Church Alert—where every time the kids see a church they scream out “Church Alert”, and they try to spot ones before anyone else. They are EVERYwhere…hidden up the top of mountains, and in almost every scattering of houses that constitutes a village (and there are so many). Every minute someone would say “Church Alert”….it was getting almost annoying except that at least it kept them occupied and focused on the scenery.   The other “alert” was castles….everyone was trying to spot them, and they were everywhere. Majestic, very old, and placed in the perfect strategic place to be totally inaccessible to enemies (which makes for a beautiful picture….castle against a rock wall, or castle on top of a daunting mountain....you get the idea)

We survived the drive, and did better than yesterday’s car time (which is good because two days in a row of crazy time in the car would have killed me). We arrived and it’s no surprise, Lake Como is beautiful. We are in a small village on the lake called Carate Urio. When I say small, I mean super small. There is a couple of restaurants, a tiny grocery, a café…and that’s it.

We’re on the hillside, with a gorgeous view and front garden area looking out on the water. The walk down to the water is a steep one, thru a twisty maze of stairs (hello butt buster).
It’s a trek, and one we have to take in order to catch the ferry. We have a car parking spot which is good because there is NO parking anywhere, but to back up I have to do so thru a driveway that is just barely bigger than the car, AND back up onto a hairpin curve and just hope no one is coming. Is this part of the reason that driving in Italy is supposedly dangerous and our insurance won’t actually cover us?  

We went to dinner and had…..drumroll please….our first ITALIAN pizza. We had plenty of “faux” pizza in France/Germany/Austria…but this was the real deal. Plus a big caprese salad and glass of red wine for mamma. Very authentic Italy. Yeah, it was good….I’m not even really a pizza fan, and I will admit. Not bad Italy, not bad.  

Ava had a break with reality during dinner and became a hateful teenager for the rest of the night. I can safely say, teens suck sometimes. How and why do they get so mean? All is fun and games until they don’t get what they want, and then they go bananas….and if you have a teen that doesn’t do that, please keep it to yourself, I can’t handle the jealousy right now.  I came home from dinner and did some damage on this lovely fruit tart left by our landlords--YUM.  

It was a tiring day. Being hyper alert really takes it out of you. Having kids really takes it out of you. Having teens nearly kills you.  Wine and fruit tart helps a little.

Romeo’s dog of the day, is this monster….that we named Barry. He looked like he hadn’t moved in a couple of months, if there were dog barcaloungers, he’d have one.

Ciao Bellas.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 12: Car Zen, Alps and Family Burial Plots

You wake up, and you can’t even imagine all the twists that a day might take. Such was today. We woke up early, with the intention of getting organized, the car packed and ready for our 2 ½ hour drive, and to wait patiently until our passports arrived to our property manager via DHL by 10 a.m. Ava and Lucia had asked to run to a clothing store somewhere on the square, which apparently opened at 9:30 a.m. and had THE romper that Lucia just couldn’t live without (she lost me at romper). So after helping me load the car, the two of  them took off (and yes I had to force them to load the car, they didn’t offer). Meanwhile, Ro, Gia and I finished prepping the apartment for departure, and sat patiently for our passport call. At 9:56 I got an email and Annette said, “sorry, still aren’t here, do you have a tracking number”. Big sigh….no, of course not, but I’ll try to track it down. All kinds of scenarios raced thru my brain….would we have to spend another night, and forfeit our hotel in Naz. I had a plan B, plan C, and plan D all worked out in my head in the matter of 5 minutes. Then I got an email at 10:01 from Annette, they HAD ARRIVED and she was waiting for me to pick them up. Problem solved. That’s awesomeness right there.

I then called Ava at 10:10 and told her I was putting the final stuff in the car and were they on their way? Five minutes later Ava and Lucia arrived home, all a fluster. Ava apparently had carried her wallet, and her phone, and the apartment keys, all separate and NOT in her purse (and I might as well note it, I tell her she needs to carry her purse ALL the time so she doesn’t lose something), and she had dropped her phone on a clothing rack and crack it. Not a small little crack that you can still easily see thru, a huge crack, plus a crack that caused some huge internal damage and the phone had an enormous stripe of white down the middle. Totally unusable.  Also worthy of noting, this is the THIRD time she has done major crack damage to her phone.

Now, it’s a bummer for sure, but I’m less sympathetic because of the “I told you to carry a purse” thing, and my firm belief that if she wasn’t obsessed with posting selfies this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Ava however, is devastated. Beyond devastated. Her world has officially stopped. I explain that we can buy her a temporary phone with set minutes on it so she still has communication benefits (so she can walk around by herself etc.) That’s not it though, she’s lost the ability to communicate via SnapChat, and text, and you might as well end her life right now. This is worse than a popped tire. Way worse. I kept my cool though, and tried to be sympathetic to her needs (hard to do) and we did a little detective work and figured out where she could get it fixed. Amazingly they fixed it in 55 minutes, not quite as amazing, it cost 169 euros. Ava paid 118 of that and I agreed to pay the rest. I think this should get me some serious mommy points but it doesn’t. How do you say spoiled in German?

We finally hit the road at about 12:30 and proceeded to have the worst 2 ½ hour drive in the history of mankind. I had to seriously go full Deepok Chopa to get thru it. I had to get my zen on, totally zone the rest of the world out, and get thru it. The three kids in the back fought nonstop. The super, SUPER annoying kind of fighting that you can’t solve, you can’t stand to listen to, and that makes everyone miserable. “He touched me”, “she got spit on me”, “Gia chews gross”, “Romeo stinks” “mmmmoooommmmmm do something”….the entire thing was a mess. Plus the volume? Thru the roof, literally could not believe how loud they were….it was like the sound reverberated off the mini-car walls and magnified. At one point Gia asked me if I was “going to cry” because I was super quiet and must have had a distressed look on my face. I had to think about that….”No, not cry, but I might pull over and toss you all out.” We survived it, not even sure how, and finally arrived in Naz Italy, just over the Austrian border.

The drive itself was incredible, so beautiful, driving into the alps was so amazing….mountains, green, gorgeous little towns. The hotel
was once a huge family home converted into small apartments and hotel rooms. It was still run by the family, hands on, and they were great. The only trauma I had to get over was upon arriving the father of the “family” greeted me, I paid him, and he asked for my passports. I showed him the passports, assuming he just wanted to verify who we were, but then he actually TOOK my passports and I literally had the urge to pounce on him and grab them back. I’m super psycho about my passports now, surprised?  He ended up photocopying them and bringing them back, and my stress level went down a bit. The place was set up for kids, complete with swings, a climbing rope, bikes….had I known the set up was so great I would have stayed longer.   It was a charming area too, the picture of the countryside is are out of the hotel room window. Loved it. 

 

We walked into town for dinner and of course had to check out the church (always my favorite thing to do), and in front of it was the
most beautiful little graveyard, and each row (or two) was a separate family. You could see the lineage, the dates going back, and for the first time I thought it might be really nice to have a burial plot with your family members in some beautiful place that you called home. I can honestly say I never even considered that before, and always figured I’d be cremated, but seeing this lovely place made me realize how it might be nice to know that all your family’s generations were in one place, and a place that people could come and enjoy. It would only work if you had amazing cemetery that was in your hometown and everyone you loved lived there too. On second thought, it probably won’t happen. I mean, how would that even work? What if your family members were all over the place? When someone died, you’d have to ship their body across state lines, or even to another country? Seems complicated. Or maybe you can all just get cremated and get buried in the same plot….seems easier to send ashes. On a good note, the hotel had awesome pillows and comforters (finally, some heavy down pillows with good thread count sheets). I put up my black out curtains and we literally holed up at 10 p.m. for a nice full 8 + hours of sleep. Did I tell you about my black out curtains? This is one my favorite things I learned from the last Europe kids trip. You need three things to get your kids happy when traveling….S.E.P.….that stands for Sleep. Eat. Poop. They need to do those three things well, and all is fine. Sleeping is tough a lot of the time not just because of the time change/jet lag, but because you’ll find yourself in a bedroom with flimsy curtains and it doesn’t get dark until 10 and then light again at 6. That’s a problem for an 8 and 5 year old who need 10 hours of sleep a night. SO…to combat the sleep issue, I brought these two long black satin panels of fabric with me (which weight nothing and I happen to have them from some Halloween party I must have thrown years ago). They are probably 12 feet long each of them, and maybe 4 feet wide. I hang these over whatever curtains are in Gia and Romeo’s room, and they sleep AWESOME. It’s made all the difference really. There you go, don’t say I never gave you a good tip.

Romeo's dog of the day is this killer....
we named him ER because in emergency rooms, if you get a dog bite, the most common answer to "what kind of dog" is German Shepherd.  My brother in law told me that, he's an ER doc, but he could also be full of crap so don't quote me on that piece of info.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 11: Rain, Run, and Schafkopf

We woke up to rain, dark clouds, and a forecast that went from 90% chance of rain, back to 100% chance, down to 70%...but 70% was the best odds of the day. Today was my dreaded 8 mile run. To be fair though, I thought it was an 8.5 mile run, so when I found out it was 8 miles I was excited. I also should clarify it’s not a straight 8 mile run, the training program has me running ¼ mile, then walking ¼ mile, on and off thru the whole thing.   Still, it’s a whole lot of mileage.

I thought I might wait it out, and that perhaps the 70% chance of rain at 10 a.m. would really be no rain, but when at 9:30 the odds went back to 100% chance, I gave up and just did the horrible rain run. I was soaking wet, and ice cold by the time I got home. I now know every street in Traunstein pretty well because I never ventured very far out (just in case the kids needed me…although they were transfixed by the Sunday morning movie time and barely noticed me being gone).   I would have thought they never left the couch or their IPADs but they also managed to use every dish, bowl and cup in the apartment, and eat about 20 peaches.

Pretty miserable run, but it’s done and I don’t have to do another really long one until the weekend after next.

It rained, and rained, and rained….seriously, TOO much rain. We had a little window of time mid-afternoon where it slowed down a bit, so we all walked to the square and had coffee, hot chocolate, petite fours, some random cherry bread cake thing that Lucia ordered, and a chocolate donut. It’s Sunday.

Ava and Lucia broke from the pack and toured around the square and shops, and armed with their cell phones I felt pretty confident they would be fine. The little ones and I walked around, got a few things for dinner, did a little shopping. The whole allowance money thing is one big continual lesson in money, spending, getting change, borrowing money (Romeo borrowed 10 euros from Gia the other day and now isn’t keen on paying it back). We’ve got a LOT of real life applications of money/money and it’s painstaking. I’m counting this as private one on one math tutoring time.

While out we bought a cool looking deck of cards, called Schafkopf cards….the national card game of Bavaria apparently. I was excited, I figured we’d have a rainy afternoon of card playing ahead and learn something new and native to Germany.
Educational AND cultural…I’m such a genius!! I Googled the game rules as soon as I got home. Holy CRAP….the rules were so complicated!!! I only read ½ way thru before I totally gave up and declared we’d use them to do our own version of Go-Fish. Bavarians must be super smart, or I’m super stupid because those rules were totally out of my league. I was hoping for something just a few notches above Go-Fish…and Schafkopf is NOT that. Should have figured just by the name…how do you even say it??

That was the entirety of our day….add in a reasonably good dinner that I actually cooked at home, complete with dessert, and you have a lovely, relaxed Sunday. Add in a bunch of wash, which I will tell you, is no small deal.
Each load takes over an hour to wash, and then you have to dry which is over an our. The weird part? It’s all in ONE machine. Yep, true. I had to get my laptop out and google translate the front of this machine, and I figured it all out….#3 to wash, #11 to dry. Two hours and 45 mins later, you have some clean clothes.  This could be one of those situations where everyone reads this and thinks, "seriously girl, have you been living under a rock, they have washer/dryer combos EVERYwhere".  If that's the case, I will just add that I haven't been living under any rocks but apparently totally missed this clever invention!

Romeo’s dog of the day is this cutie…..his name is Fluffy Carmine. Fluffy is Romeo’s
stuffed toy dog’s name and Carmine is Romeo’s middle name so I’m guessing he liked this dog so much he decided to give it a hybrid name of his two favorite people, him & his dog.

Tomorrow we head to Italy, someplace right on the border of Austria and Italy….name of the town escapes me, but it should be fun. Hopefully the passports come on schedule, I’m keeping my fingers crossed because that could really jack my day!  

OH, and this is the cap on it, I mentioned to the property manager, Annette, that we had gone to Salzburg yesterday and she said "OH, you are SO brave, to do that without your passports!!"  Something I hadn't even thought of.  She said the borders are closed, and they normally stop any foreign car, so she was very surprised that we had managed in and out of Austria with no trouble.  Dodged a bullet I didn't even realize would be there!

I will also note that on the bright side I didn't have any flat tires today (probably because I didn't drive) and I didn't lose any passports (again, probably because I don't actually have them.) 

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 10: Chairlifts, Dirty Crepes and Guardian Angels

I woke up this morning resolved to not stress about the passports. My “plan” such as it was, wasn’t horrible, and just required the dedication of one long day to driving (to be put off until Monday). I instead decided to focus on something fun, and after some digging found a place that looked not too far, where you could ride a chairlift up a mountain, and then a toboggan down the mountain. It looked really fun, and all I knew is the name of the town “Bad Durrnberg”, it opened at 10 a.m. and all other details would have to be figured out along the way. Kids were super excited, we got packed and walked down to our car. 30 minutes later we got on the road (that’s how long it took me to figure out why the navigation kept saying this place was 3.5 hours away—it’s because I needed to change from Germany to Austria-apparently the city was in Austria).

Not daunted by being behind schedule 30 minutes, we hit the road. We finally arrived there, and it was as amazingly beautiful as I would have thought. Absolutely one of the prettiest places ever. Huge mountains, jutting rock peaks, snow caps, rolling green hills, quant little houses. It really was spectacular. We parked at this place, which really just looked like a little house in front of a huge chairlift going up an incredibly steep mountain.   The pictures don’t do it justice, it was steep.

The best part, before I go on. As we left the car I checked my emails really quickly and I received this from Heike:

Hi Lauren,

No worries everything fine.

Your passports should be delivered Monday before 10 in the morning with DHL Express.

Thank you for the tea and cookies!

Enjoy the rest of the trip and don’t get angry with yourself because of the passports. Everything is fine.

Heike

Can I just tell you how wonderful that was to get? She’s amazing, my guardian angel in Germany.

The chairlift up was pure terror, I hate heights. The toboggan down was AWESOME…Romeo and I went together, he had his hand on
the go/break stick the entire time and he was either full throttle, or full break, no in-between.   Tons of fun, and the view was incredible.  You hurtle downhill at breakneck speed, seat belted in (sort of) and trusting in the strength of metal to hold your deathtrap toboggan on it's rails.  Tort law must be awfully different in Austria because this whole place smells like a big old lawsuit to me.  

At the very top was another house, with super comfortable beer garden area (I could have detoured here but it was a little early in the day). Nothing like going down a mountain at 100 km after you've had 3 beers.  

There was a little play area for the kids and some cute little black pigs that the kids got a huge kick out of.   Why not play with a pig while you drink at beer at the top of a mountain?

We went from the mountain thrill ride, straight into Salzburg (gorgeous drive the entire way) and spent the rest of the day there. LOVE this city, LOVE. It’s beautiful, there’s great shopping, all kinds of interesting things to do, and it was the most beautiful day ever (big fluffy clouds and blue skies). We met this fascinating woman Kristina Wilk, who she was there for some music festival, she is an artistic director for classic concerts.   We randomly started small talking outside of a store while I was waiting for the older girls and she spoke French to Gia and Romeo (she’s French-German) and gave them this amazing chocolate bar with gorgeous nuts and fruits on top---entirely too gourmet for them and I later ate the whole thing myself.

We ate ice cream, and then walked along the river where there were all kinds of stands of art and specialty items, and food. We stood in line FOREVER for a falafel wrap (mine, and it was great), and nutella crepes, which the kids were craving. As we sat down and ate them Lucia pointed out they were “dirty crepes” because the woman making them was touching them AND then immediately thereafter touching the money and going back and forth. True, bit yucky, but we still ate everything anyway. If we’re barfing tomorrow, we’ll know why.  

I bought Romeo a little leather purse/wallet to keep his euros at this leather stand at the market, and the owner was “born in America” as he said (but now clearly lived here in Austria and was not associating himself with being American anymore). I told him I was surprised by how little English people spoke in Germany and he said that most people learn it in school, but then have very little practical experience with it and don’t hear it enough so when they do, they don’t feel confident enough to speak it back.   He also said some people just don’t feel like being bothered to try to communicate in English, it’s more work than they care to do. All I know is that back in Traunstein tonight, ordering dinner to go and just trying to convey “sausage with no sauce” was a lot of effort and she seemed confused by everything I said.

The kids loved this Mozart street performer/statute.
No idea how he hovered over the ground like that. Do they actually have hover boards that lift you off the ground? I laughed out loud at this sign, while I ate my ice cream.  
And I snapped this picture of Austrian fashion so that everyone can be happy they don’t dress in traditional Austrian attire.

Romeo’s dog of the day is this foxy white thing sticking her tongue out at him. I think she has a dog blouse on, I can see a pearl button.
Romeo named her Chewbie. In case you are wondering, she's being pushed in a buggy.  

Just as a note, you would think when an adorable 5 year old little boy with a man-purse comes up to take a picture of your dog you might smile and indulge, or think it was super cute (because it freakin’ is), but you’d be amazed by how many people seem annoyed. I feel like telling them I’m going to cut their dog from the European Dog Tour book (but I'd say it wagging my index finger and doing a little head swagger--"eh, eh, now your doggy is OFF the list"..... but it’s not worth the energy.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 9: Big Oops, New Digs, and Car Mania

We’ll start with the BIG OOPS. It’s 5 p.m., we’ve finally made it to our destination (Traunstein, Germany which is nowhere specific, except a really cute little town on the border between Germany and Austria). We wrangle our luggage in (while double parked) , get the car parked down the road in the actual parking lot (we’re right in the center in an apartment so there’s no decent parking). I get unloaded, somewhat settled, opened my computer to check on life and get an email from Heike. Apparently I left ONE thing back in Bobingen……wait for it…....THE PASSPORTS.

Yep, that’s right, all 5 passports were safe and sound in Heike’s hands, 2.5 long hours away. WTF, was exactly what went thru my head.   So apparently this morning, in my super organized (or so I thought) state, I got all the suitcases packed into the car, the kitchen refrigerator cleaned out, a load of towels started, the house looking cleanish and tidy, all the adapter plugs pulled out, all the kids in the car. I remembered our big bag of toilet paper (yes, you kind of have to buy it and lug it around because each apartment starts out with about enough for a day and then you need more). I remembered everything. Except the passports.

You might ask, how the hell did you separate yourself from the passports? Well, the problem was rooted in my irrational fear of a chimney sweeper that came to the house the first day. It’s so silly in hindsight, but the caretaker gal (the one that led us to Heike’s house later to get the tire), showed up even before the tire issue with this authentic looking young chimney sweep (complete with smudged face, all black clothing and one of those bushy chimney sweep things). Anyway, she motioned that he needed to come inside and check out the chimney. In the front hallway was an enormous enclosed fireplace that had an elaborate system to pipe heat thru the house. I let them in, the guy walked thru the house up the stairs to the top (where the chimney let out) and I had this thought, “what if this guy is doing a scout out for “stuff” to steal??" So random, so irrational, so paranoid. But after I had this thought I told the kids to put all of the electronics in this dresser upstairs instead of leaving them laying out when we left the house. Apparently I wanted to make it a “little harder” if someone actually came to steal stuff when we were gone. We’re not exactly in an impoverished third world country where an ipad is worth its weight in gold on the black market, but clearly I wasn’t thinking straight. And I….being the idiot I am, also put the passports in there along with the electronics. All the electronics were of course picked off one by one by the kids who wanted them for movies etc., and I quickly realized that my paranoia was ridiculous, never put the electronics back in there, and then promptly forgot about the hiding place entirely…AND the passports in it.  

Yeah, that’s how I roll.  I plead fatigue syndrome.  

So backing it up, before the big, “ohhhhhhh fffffffuuuuuuuu…….” moment that spoiled the evening. We spent the day driving from Bobingen to Traunstein. It’s only a 2.5 hour drive, but by the time you stop for gas, go to the bakery, make a rest stop or two (or three), well, there goes the day.

We arrived in Traunstein around 2:30 and found our way to the property management place but the gal I was suppose to meet wasn’t there yet, and her husband redirected us to come back in an hour. So we wandered the hood, got some ice cream, and got excited about our awesome little town. All in all, fairly smooth.  I snapped a picture of this big sign because it said SPARGEL, which for some reason I found to be a really funny word, and I sat there looking at it for a minute musing out loud on what spargle could possibly mean.  
Lucia comes up behind me and says, "uhmmm, mommy, it means asparagus, that's what they are selling" and she points to the stand behind it with the huge bins of white asparagus.  Damn word detective.

We later got our keys to the apartment, did a grocery run, and headed to the new digs. Very awesome location, walking distance to everything and the girls are excited to get some more line on their leash and wander solo.

Romeo loves the square near the house because it’s dog central galore. The dog of the day is named Brown Dog, named by Romeo, and I’m guessing it’s ‘cuz he’s brown. 

Here’s to hoping tomorrow brings some solutions to my passport issue. I can drive 2.5 hours to get it back, or try and coordinate a courier service to come get them on Saturday morning and get them to me by Monday morning (we leave here Monday noon). Driving isn’t horrible, but the kids have a low-tolerance and there’s no way around the fact it would make Monday a 6 hour driving day between going there and then heading south again to the next stop (which is honestly somewhere I can’t even remember right now).  That's 6 hours of hell-time, I have a feeling the kids are going to make me pay for my mistake.

I’m going to drink some wine and think on it.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 8: Insanity, Stuffed Toys and Rice Cakes

Today was officially castle day. Gia has been waiting to see a castle for months, just the word castle gets her excited (presumably because she fashions herself a princess). We went to see the Neuschwanstein Castle, which is pretty fantastic and authentically “castle-like”—right up Gia’s alley. Seeing one castle turned out to be an ALL day thing.

First you have to drive to the castle, approximately 1 ¼ hours away. It’s a gorgeous drive thru tiny Bavarian towns,
with wood stacks all nice and neat and stacked like you always see inside the Pottery Barn catalogs.   It’s a chore every time we drive to keep the kids focused on WHERE they are. They just want to zone out on movies, so we’ve had to implement from the start, no IPAD movie watching. It hasn’t been long enough, they still ask 100 times every time we get in the car, hoping I’ve decided today is the day to cave. Believe me, it is pretty tempting because plugging them into their IPADS would give me some lovely peace and quiet.

We arrived at the castle and not surprisingly, you don’t just drive up to the castle conveniently. The thing is perched totally inaccessibly on the hill, and you have to park, trek up thru the gift shops galore and tour buses, buy your tickets, and then unless you want to be carted up on a tour bus for the elderly, you have to walk another 35 mins to the castle itself. Then you have to wait until your tour group is called (no other way to do it), and they have specific times down to the very second, and you follow your group in and get the tour whether you like it or not. No touching, no
pictures. It’s pretty interesting though, the castle was built by King Ludwig II of Bavaria…and at a very young age, something like 40, he went insane and as they were carting him away he convinced them to allow him to take a walk around the lake with his shrink. They never returned, and were both found drowned. Mystery never solved. The castle was only ¾ of the way done at that point, the rest was finished following his death.  Here's the kids by Ludwig's cursed lake.  

 

Anyway, there was only one major kid melt down on the way up to the castle because Gia proclaimed that the only thing she’d eat was a donut for lunch.  That kid would eat sugary garbage ALL day long and not think twice.

Romeo invested in a stuffed dog he spotted at a tourist shop, and 15 euros later, he was skipping along with Fluffy, his newly named dog. It looked suspiciously similar to a stuffed dog I purged during our latest move pack up.

We made it home, had dinner at the only non-German restaurant which was this weird hybrid Mediterrean place, with absolutely no English on the menu and really indistinguishable pictures. It does no good to ask “is this pork” because they will smile and nod, or just nod, and either way you may end up with pork, rabbit or something else altogether.

Later at the grocery I discovered a new gluten free friendly treat. Chocolate dipped rice cakes. That’s right, chocolate. It’s sort of the same theory as everything is better tasting fried. Everything tastes better dipped in chocolate. I am not going to miss out on the really great gluten indulgences, but I’ve got to go light on it. I checked out the gluten free section of the bigger supermarket just to see if they had pasta, so when we ate at home and the kids were having pasta, I’d have some too.   It’s one thing to go off the wagon for a week or two, but when you are gone for as long as we are, I can’t just totally go crazy, I’ll just feel like crap.

Tomorrow we head to Traunstein, which will be our outpost for the next 3 days as we explore the Salzburg area. Sound of Music, here we come.

Romeo’s dog of the day is this white fluffy, drunk looking dog with his tongue hanging out. He was sitting next to a street peddler/homeless-ish looking woman. We’ll call him “Harry”. 

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 7: Squirt Guns, Macaroons, and Tag Team Stories

We hit the ground running today, to make up for our sloth moves yesterday. Today was Augsburg and Friedburg exploring.  The driving wasn't too bad, and we made it go by fast with our tag team stories which are hysterical.  Someone starts out (like me), with something sort of intriguing and distinctive, and then it usually goes back to something involving a 14 year old boy in a white tee by Ava and/or Lucia (and it's always a REALLY cute boy), and then Gia turns the story toward a little princess girl who is nice, and Romeo ends it with some dog and cat involvement, today the dog and cat were living in a castle next to the boy with the white tee that was really cute.  Even when I start it out in the year 3075, totally futuristic and weird, it always comes back to those things....boys, dogs, and princesses.

Augsburg is a good size city, navigating in and into a parking garage and then into the center (all while trying to remember where our parking garage was so I could get back) was a bit exhausting by itself. I have this fear that we will get lost somehow and be searching for the car for hours. I wish the car had a GPS device that connected to my phone.

Romeo has been on a mission for a man-bag since we got here and he realized that he couldn’t put his camera, wallet AND hand sanitizer all in his pockets at once (plus in his basketball shorts the camera weights them down and his pants go lopsided.) What’s a boy to do? We literally walked out of the parking garage and into what would prove to be an adorable food/flower market, but at the gateway were the few cheesey travel stores I needed to find just the right man-bag for Ro. For a mere 12.90 euros I no longer have to listen to Romeo say “I need a bag” 5 million different times. I think the kid might have a budding OCD problem, and for the life of me I can’t imagine where he’d get that??

We saw great little streets with flower and fruit markets, a beautiful church, and huge square . We had a quasi-successful lunch (and by that I mean we didn’t get kicked out of the restaurant.) We got macaroons for dessert in a beautiful French style bakery. That’s the worst part about not being in France…less chance of getting macaroons.  That gave me license to chow down three.

From there we drove the short distance to Friedberg which was the perfect pace for the afternoon. Small streets, cute shops, it was darling (plus easy to park in). The best part was that as we were strolling along, there was a little kid shop, with a table out front with a few kid type things, one of which was a big old squirt gun. There was a grandfather and his 3-ish year old granddaughter walking in front of us, and she stopped to look at the table, which made Romeo stop and look at the table and immediately pick up the squirt gun.

I told Romeo if he wanted it he could buy it with his allowance (more on that in a second), and as he’s sitting there debating and looking at the gun, the grandfather took Romeo inside and bought it for him! He didn’t speak even one word of English, but he gave me the international  “no no I got this” hand hold and got out his wallet and paid. Random act of kindness delivered from kindly German grandfather.  Check that off the list!
This country just scored some major kindness points. It’s funny, for such a reserved culture, and not very demonstrative in their verbal or facial expressions, body language or eye contact, we have now encountered two instances of above and beyond matter of fact kindness. I thought that was a super awesome thing he did, and he did it all with a dismissive, non-demonstrative, matter of fact manner.  He didn't even stop to try and communicate at all.  There was no agenda other than the moment.

Each kid has their own personal trip "per diem" allowance.  They get 5 euros a day, if they complete all the items on their checklist.  With said euros they buy whatever crap they want and they never bug me about buying stuff.  
NEVER. It makes it a lot easier, it was part of the lessons I learned last time we were in Europe.  I hate being the arbitrator of whether "yet another" stuffed toy constitutes crap, and now I don't have to.  And yes, I had these printed on business card paper.  And yes, I know it's a bit crazy, but it's working well.  Being able to travel well with your kids takes a heightened level of organization because without it, chaos reigns (and even with it, chaos is always invading).

We came home and went on a stressful afternoon run/bike ride. Stressful because although there is a bike path near our house that runs along the Black Forest which is super cool, it also runs along a two lane freeway of crazy drivers. So you are effectively 5 feet from sure death at any moment and the only thing between you and getting taken out by some moron looking down to text or eat a schnitzel, is luck. I was fine running there solo earlier this week, but watching the kids with their wobbly bikes all over the place nearly gave me an ulcer. Plus Ava said “mom, your butt really jiggles when you run.” Ggggggrrrrr, that is both motivating, in that I definitely know I need to keep running, and demoralizing because I’ve just been shamed by my 13 year old stick figure daughter. I told her to look hard, it was going to be her butt in 30 years. I’m trying to keep up with the ½ marathon training schedule. This weekend is a killer 8.5 run though, which right now might as well be a 50 mile run because that’s how daunting it is.

I made spaghetti for dinner. Couldn’t get the energy for dinner out. One meal out a day is officially enough for me. John and I don’t agree on this…he’d eat out every single meal, and I think he’s crazy. The kids are at least older now, so it’s getting better, but eating with little kids is just NEVER relaxing. Never.  I might say the same about tweeners.

Romeo's dog of the day was Chexstochen (totally guessing on the spelling).  He met him at a playground that the kids got a lot of
mileage out of in Friederg.  It was a tiny playground, but it always amazes me how little they need to have fun.  It's day 7 and we've got zero dog bites so far, so that's pretty cool.

Signed, ME {lv}

 

Day 6: Secret Gardens, Burritos and Spidey Powers

It seemed the perfect time to have a mellow day, and today was just that. We woke up knowing we were home bound with our bicycle spare tire driving limitations (50 km per hour or slower, which around here might as well be walking).   I once again slept hideously, so now I’m wondering at what point I’m just going to collapse from fatigue. The kids once again slept marvelously…10+ hours, right on schedule.   I guess I should be relieved I'm the only one throwing fatigue fits.

I find myself laying in bed at night thinking of terrible things that “could” happen to the kids. It’s horrible. I once read that mothers of infants/babies imagine these really horrible things happening (something falling into a crib and hitting the baby or a baby slipping out of a stroller and crawling into traffic) and the theory was that it was the brain’s way of protecting against possible danger. It’s like honing your Spidey skills, if you’ve thought thru it, you’ve protected against it. I like the possible insurance, but it’s a horrible process…laying there thinking of random painful things that didn’t, but could, have happened to the kids today. I think it’s the fear of all the unknowns when you are traveling. With four kids you already feel spread thin in terms of knowing where and what each kid is doing that could be getting them into danger, but you throw that into a foreign arena, and it’s even more intimidating.   Plugging in outlets with the weird prongs, playing on a trampoline in the garden with rusting spikes nearby, marble neck-breaking stairs, no fire alarms….you get the picture.

Are you surprised I haven’t slept?

On with the day. Around 11 a.m. a woman knocked on our door and explained we needed to follow her in her car for our tire. I had seen her in a small house down from the main house that had a “washroom” sign and I think also the caretakers work quarters. I assumed she worked for Heike (but with no communication between us I wasn’t sure until she drove us to Heike’s house.  I was relieved to discover she indeed was who I thought and I wasn't going to be the butt of an elaborate German plan to steal us and our 3 wheeled car, and she delivered us straight to Heike.

I have to tell you about Heike’s house….which was also her business--it was AMAZING. She owns the equivalent of a “Secret Garden Floral Shop”.  It’s an enormous house/garden space, with every room, corner, greenhouse, rack, filled with treasures both floral, found, and purchasable. There are a million touches everywhere, from outdoor vases filled with peonies, to little signs with sayings and words (I assume they were cute but since they were in German they could have said anything really). It was absolutely amazing, and what I understood from the little English interchange we were able to have, she had opened the shop 3 years ago, but had lived in the house creating the gardens for 20 years. It was wonderfully merchandised, and you could spend hours wandering around, and probably still wouldn’t see everything. 

We spent some time with her checking out all the nooks and crannies, including a big fat bird (well, it looked like a little bird, just blown up), that was nesting in a little china pot in this outdoor windowed garden shed….apparentely there were 5 tiny eggs she was nesting on.  It was so darling it looked fake.  Yes, that's a little yellow beak you see sticking up from fattie bird.

Romeo played with Max, the garden dog, who looked like he could bite your face off but was very sweet. Max is definitely the dog of the day.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

161 Euros later, we had a new tire.  That was 161 euros I could have spent on Italian boots.  We drove across the street to a large grocery store--the equivalent of a Safeway or Ralph’s, definitely was the biggest grocery store we’ve seen here. We spent at least an hour roaming around buying random things that could possible be good (also could be horrible but that’s the fun of being somewhere new, you have to try all the weird stuff). On the not weird side the kids found burrito making ingredients and were so excited for Mexican food (there are no Mexican restaurants in France, and definitely none here). Yet, they do reserve space on the shelf for one variety of refried beans, flour tortillas, and even chili tortilla chips.   That’s a reason to be excited (no shintzel for dinner)!  Note the REAL salad at the end of the table--yum.  

Lucia declared today that she didn’t like not being able to communicate with people. Almost no one speaks English (very basic words if they know them).   I think if we were in more touristy parts of the country maybe, but here, not really at all which surprises me. The German people seem reserved around us, not really especially friendly, but not unfriendly either. They look at us with just the tiniest bit of “what’s your deal?” It’s not disgust, but more a look of strained “tolerance”. Is that just because everyone looks at 4 loud kids with strained “tolerance”?? Could be.  

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 5: Bicycle Tires, Sausage, and Rickie

Seriously, I thought this day couldn’t get any harder, but then I logged on to my computer and went to CNN with all the Orlando headlines. It’s so terrible to hear what is going on in the US and feel so disconnected from regular media and far away.   What madness is in the world, it’s frightening.

In stark contrast I was saved by the kindness of two strangers today, and my faith in humanity at the very least balances a little.

We drove from Strasbourg to Bobingen, Germany today…which is nowhere in particular, just a small town outside Augsburg and in the thick of the southern Bavarian part of Germany (near the Romantic Road and other things I wanted to take the kids to see).   It was a 4 hour drive which was about 2 hours longer than the kids could handle. Who am I kidding.…more like 3.5 hours more than they could handle.

We managed it though, and literally, and I am not exaggerating, 1.4 kilometers before we get to the cottage we’ve rented, I get a flat tire. Not even sure how to be honest, something in the road as I turned a bend and it hit the back rear tire and literally popped it---as in, big hole, not fixable, totally flat.

The car has little bicycle size tires, it’s no wonder it popped so easy (and the spare is even worse...it’s racing bicycle tire size). I was pulled over on the curve of the road ½ in someone’s driveway, with a totally flat tire. The roadside service that is suppose to come with the rental car I could not figure out. The phone number wouldn’t work and I’m still not sure if it was my user error or it really didn’t work (probably former). So I called the woman who had rented us the cottage because I really wasn’t sure what else to do. It was 5 p.m., we were all hungry and exhausted, and it was starting to rain. Heike was her name. She spoke very little English, but understood I was stuck with a flat tire and she immediately drove to me, in her two seater Mercedes, and scooped up the kids and took them in two trips to the cottage, and then called her friend to come help change the tire.

The friend arrived, a take no prisoners woman probably in her late 50’s, early 60’s, who without much fuss, changed the tire in lightening speed. I think I might have been able to figure it out eventually, but it would have been traumatic which is embarrassing to say because after watching it closely I realize it’s not all that hard if you just do it and stop whining.   She even took my tire to the tire shop, and Heike told me she’d call me tomorrow to let me know when my new tire arrived for pick up.  The best part is as she was finishing up the tire and literally screwing on the lug nuts this man on a bicycle stopped and spoke in German. I assume he was asking if she needed help. She went back and forth with him, and I’m not entirely sure what they said, but whatever it was prompted her to say after he left “german words, german words, german words, STUPID MEN, german words, german words, german words.”   Rock on bad ass German woman.

These two people completely took care of me, with little communication on my part because they spoke little English and I speak zero German. They were just kind, and understanding. It made the otherwise downer of an experience so much less so.

Our cottage is darling, way too big for us (there is a third floor we aren’t using), but the kids are happy and we’re all safe and sound, so I’m grateful for that.   We had dinner at this very authentic looking German restaurant nearby which had probably what is very typical/authentic German fare, and also completely and utterly disgusting (sorry German food lovers). I think I’d rather feed the kids Nutella sandwiches for dinner than subject them to pasty looking sausages (you can't see the inside of this one, but I swear it's almost white), and fries for the next week.  I ordered a salad and everything was pickled and drenched in what I think was some egg-ish-ranch dressing (which makes it sound better than it was).
My white wine was ridiculously sweet, but it had alcohol, so that part worked out well. We were the only people in the very large restaurant, run entirely by a husband and wife, who were also watching the football match (I think they said it was Ireland and Sweden playing), and Rickie their 12 year old lab-ish looking dog that lay near the front was Romeo’s favorite thing of the day (he's sleeping, not dead).

 

The day wouldn’t be complete without Ava putting in a frozen pretzel into the microwave (why she wanted frozen pretzels when we are literally in the land of fresh bakery pretzels is beyond me, but I was too tired to protest so we bought them). She put them in for 13 minutes—apparently reading the directions wrong. The entire house smelled like burnt pretzels, and there was thick smoke EVERYwhere. Oddly absent, the sound of any fire alarm, and then I realized….yep, not a fire alarm to be found in the kitchen ANYwhere. I didn’t look but I’m guessing there is no fire extinguisher either. I had the same feeling that I had yesterday at Europa-Park when I walked in after paying at a kiosk, with my big backpack and found there was not ANY security….none whatsoever. No bag check, metal detectors, nothing. As soon as I have a second I’m going to do some googling. I want to know if there are more deaths from fire here, more deaths from crazy driving (the speed limit on the freeway was 120 kilometers today, and that is 75 mph….cars literally FLEW by me, they had to be going well over a 100, it was insane), or more deaths from amusement park violence due to unmonitored entrances.   ??? Very curious if our American caution translates to lower risks statistically. Wikipedia, where are you? 

Here’s to finding the humanity around us, even when it doesn’t always seem present.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 3 & 4 : WAM, BAM

And like that, 48 hours have seemed to slip by, but of course not without at least a little excitement.

Yesterday was all about Strasbourg, and can I just say, what a FANTASTIC place. Easy to get in and out of, and we found a public parking lot near the center where some kindly young fellow directed us right into a spot, and then proceed to try and shake me down to “watch my car”. He spoke no English, or French, and he kept doing the double eye point and then pointed at the car, and said “café”. He must have said it 10 times and each time I kept saying, “no, I’m sorry I only speak English”. Finally he threw up his hands and walked away. Ava turns to me and says “geez, even I knew that he was trying to get you to pay for his coffee if he watched your car”.   I told her that I was fine with the car being stolen since 1) it didn’t have anything in it, and 2) it wasn’t ours, and I definitely was NOT fine with being shaken down for café money.

We spent the day walking the markets (both flea and the fruit/veggie market), and trolling the great shops. We even hit one of the infamous Pharmacies….I still swear by at least half my finds from a couple of years ago.

It was a relatively peaceful day, where everyone but me was rested and seemed to have escaped jet lag (I’m suffering though, for some reason it’s terrible this time).   I went to bed at 11 p.m. thinking I’d sleep thru the night just fine and I woke up an hour later and was awake for a solid 3 hours before I finally gave up and took a Benadryl (for lack of anything stronger) and figured that at least I would get a few hours sleep before the crazy of Sunday began. I’m having insane dreams (one last night where the late Prince and I were having a conversation about how he could sell some widgets together in a lot if he priced them right---???)

And then it was Sunday…a big BAM of a day. We drove to Europa-Park (just across the border in Germany) and did the European style amusement park/Disney fun—yet distinctively NOT Disneyland thing (although I will note that their mascot is also a mouse, sort of a Chucky Cheese looking one).
I’m not an amusement park person let me start out by saying. I hate lines, huge crowds, over priced food (most of which is horrible for you yet is consumed with wild abandon by people who look one burger away from a heart attack). I know I sound like a stick in the mud, but I have not been able to find the “magic and joy” of these places the way some people do. I’ve been to Disneyland all of once in my life (when Ava & Lucia were 4 and 2) and that was enough to hold me over for….oh, I don’t know, maybe a lifetime. Once my nephew told me he and his family had been to Disneyland 150 times (they live 2 hours away) and I remember thinking—“thanks kid, you just verbalized my own personal conception of hell on earth). I know, I know…fuddy-duddy, stick in the mud, lame, no fun, I’ve been called all those things and am totally fine with it.

So why Europa-Park now?   Well, I have a friend who also happens to be here in Europe on vacation, and she is with her 3 kids solo, and we figured we’d rendez-vous here and let all the kids have at it.   It’s cheaper than Disneyland, and 50 mins from where our house is right now.   Plus I thought I would score some points with the kids finally. I maybe did (we’ll see how long it lasts). From 10-7:30 we walked every inch of that park (or so it felt) and I rode the log ride 3 times with Romeo & Gia, the swings once (I nearly barfed) and sat in countless lines. Of all the things I’ve done this year, this is the one I feel I deserve the most props for. I will say, as far as amusement parks go, this one is as restrained in the cheesey department as possible, and it’s very well done overall. The park is divided into countries and themes…so there is Spain, Africa, England, Italy., Greece…etc. etc. Each with rides and foods appropriate to the theme. Kids were in heaven.

The coolest thing I saw? The Food Loop restaurant where we stopped for an afternoon late lunch. It won a worldwide restaurant theme award in 2012 , and basically all the food is delivered on these “tracks” of double metal “rails”. It is pretty amazing.
There are no waiters or waitresses…you order everything on a computer at your table, and the food appears above you on the tracks and you just grab it after it comes down to the bottom. Super cool concept. Food was so-so….concept fantastic.

We finally made it back home around 9:15….long day, but it’s 10:30 and I think everyone is actually sleeping so that is good. I’m planning on drugging myself early and praying for a full night’s sleep.

I’ll include a dog pic, because little Romeo has started a “European dog tour”. He plans on taking pictures of all the dogs he sees in all the places he goes because, as he said, “I’m a big dog fan.” No joke.
He has a fantastic little camera to do it with too. Why would a 5 year old have a fantastic camera you ask? Well, the $50 one I ordered at the last minute when I realized that I hadn’t bought him the ONE thing he asked to take on the trip 100 times in the last 3 months, didn’t arrive in time. SO…literally on the way to the airport we had to stop at Best Buy and buy him a “cheap little camera”---which in fact, was not all that cheap ($180 later). SO….expect to see some kick ass dog pics.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day 2: Eye Twitch, Driving & Hard Tail

Day 2 –

We started our day with a glorious French breakfast set up by our James Bond looking host (he’s part of the family that owns/operates the chateau). He seriously did look like the new blond Bond guy….what’s his name? Homemade quince jam, strawberry jam, cheese, Brioche, French Bread, yogurt, fruit,….most importantly, coffee. It was great, and the kids slept right up until the time we ate at 9 p.m. Big dent in adjusting to the time change right there.

We then hurried to check out by 11 a.m. and get everything into the car (which is packed officially to the hilt). We hit the road and drove the hour and 45 mins to an area outside Strasbourg where we rented a 3 bedroom apartment. It’s only been two days, but suffice it to say the road trip has already garnered me an awesome lycrical command of all Megan Trainer songs. And before you ask…yes I already tried to bribe the kids to listen to a classic on Audibles. Not. Going. To. Happen.

We did a scout of Strasbourg, but tomorrow we’ll do an in-depth exploration when hopefully the driver (i.e. me) doesn’t feel like I have mush for a brain and jelly for legs. I’m SO tired…I think it might be possible that the jet lag is affecting me the worst--and here I was worried about the kids.   Or maybe it’s just that every single thing I’m doing right now feels like more work than it should be and it adds up to make for sheer exhaustion. I’ve got a perma-eye-twitch and it does not make me feel pretty. Going to the boulangerie….should be super easy right? These little towns have no parking anywhere, cars are racing thru, I’m trying to read signs regarding the parking that there in fact “appears” to be available (I still remember the ticket we got last time we were in France….that thing showed up 6 months after our return courtesy of Hertz who felt obliged to turn us in when questioned by the local authorities of some small town where we parked in a space that was illegal (the sign said what??). Expensive parking spot.  

Driving so far has been stressful. Getting use to the stick shift again (thanks dad for making sure I had this wonderful and long forgotten skill called manual driving). Everyone drives fast, and aggressive here, and on the freeways passing is a bloodsport. Seriously, I’ll linger in the left lane for a moment too long and some car is right up by butt in two seconds. Everyone is a professional race car driver and everyone is driving a tiny rollerskate sized car that zips around WAY too fast.   When I picked up our car at the rental place the guy told me THREE times to keep the emergency kit in the FRONT passenger area—not the back—FRONT. So seemingly when, not if, I get in an accident, I’ll have the stuff handy and “not in the back where it might not be accessible”. Huh? You mean because half my car will be crunched?? Not reassuring.

The kids are easier to travel with in general this time, although Ava and Lucia in general aren’t easier in many ways. I think Romeo and Gia are easier, Ava & Lucia are harder, but Romeo and Gia are “more” easier…so overall it’s better. Ava and Lucia are just demanding, the fear of not being able to keep their “story” alive on snap chat is a deep, all encompassing fear. I’m not joking, we were literally still pushing our bags out of customs and Ava said “mommy, the internet isn’t working on my phone, can you fix it?”. That makes it sound like she asked nicer than she did.

I wore two things Hard Tail today....my black linen slouchy Hard Tail cargos today (which I'm in love with, they are so easy, light and comfortable).  I ALSO wore my Hard Tail running capris--yes, you heard me right--I went on a short run after dinner to keep on my 1/2 marathon training schedule (run isn't until September...it's a slow training schedule for novices).  I actually RAN...and let me tell you, it did not feel easy.  Figured if I fell off the training schedule wagon, I might never get back on though.   John asked me at around 7 p.m. if I was going to do my run today (he's training with me) and up until that point I can honestly say I never even thought about running.  I rallied though, and I'm pretty proud of myself for it.  Tomorrow is a longer run though, we'll see if I can actually muster up enough energy for more.

Signed, ME {lv}

Day One: Kardashian Benadryl Voyage Begins

And....we're off. We left for our Euro-fun finally, after months of my list making-obsessive compulsive planning. It's once again, the kids and I setting off solo, to meet up with John in  about 2 1/2 weeks.  We flew from SFO to CDG in Paris, and all in all it was a smooth flight.  We waited to board until the very end, and as we are getting on to the full plane, Ava & Lucia yelled back to me (we were several rows apart), "this is SO MUCH WORSE than First Class".  Yeah, they really said that.   I can't say they are wrong though, First Class would be SO much better, yet having my 13 and 11 year old scream it out probably didn't make the best impression.  They have flown First Class back from Europe all of ONCE, but clearly it was enough to impress them upon them the idea that anything less is really subpar.  

So that Kardashian-esq moment aside, the flight was uneventful.  Romeo, Gia and I were blissful unaware of Ava and Lucia sitting three rows back and watching wilding inappropriate movies with wild abandon (no parent to dictate no/yes on what was appropriate), and both kids were sprawled out and sleeping by 8 p.m..  The only downside was the toddler) the next row over that literally cried thru the night.  I think the mother  (a nice woman that was traveling on to some middle eastern country), just ignored and/or missed her window to put the kid to sleep and then the kid went into manic fatigue mode.  He literally cried/moaned/wailed for an hour straight at some point in the middle of the night.  I have one word for you lady, Benadryl.  I seriously considered offering her one, but I was afraid that she might be in the "don't drug your kid" camp and I would create an international debate right there on the plane.

We navigated into CDG, got our luggage which seemed massive, picked up our car, and headed out of the city.  We drove east toward Strasbourg, but because it was too far to do in one day with jet lag, we stopped in a random country side town at a hotel called Chateau du Buchy.   An old chateau that dates back to Louis VI and is now a family house/bed and breakfast.  

The car ride was brutal.  Stick any 5 people in a small tin can, without enough sleep and irritations high....well, let's suffice it to say, there were some tense moments.  I was TIRED too...we stopped no less than 4 times on our 3 hour drive, so that I could get coffee, diet coke (disgusting I know, but there are only so many coffees I could drink), candies (for a sugar rush) and bathroom breaks.  On the last stop I accidentally dropped the flat car key (credit card size) into trash can along with my diet coke, empty water bottle and candy wrappers.  Oops. That ordeal was a 30 minute detour right as Lucia communicated my blunder to someone at the gas station and they went off in search of the key to try and open the trash receptor up so we could search.  I heard what sounded like "poo-bell" which is phonetically how you say "trash can" in French.  Poo-bell indeed.

So that was our exhausting day, which bleed into evening as we drove around looking for dinner.  I'm convinced that our trips always start out with the worst meal ever.  Trying to find a place to eat when you are tired and unfamiliar with an area.  We were grouchy, tired and unsatisfied with dinner at 9:30 p.m., but we went back to our rooms, and the kids crashed by 10:30 pm and amazingly slept straight thru.

Just as an unimportant note, I wore a pair of Citizen Emerson boyfriend jeans on the flight, along with a tee and my Hard Tail crackle wash Slouchy Cardigan (remember that one?) and my new Kardashian-almost Adidas.  
Did I tell you that story?  Apparently one of those Kardashians made the white Adidas with the black stripes wildly popular with the teens.  Walk into any store that sells Adidas and if you are in the 13-18 age group, they know you are looking for those shoes.  Well, I was at Nordstrom buying some shoes for the trip and Ava made me search for the Adidas in her size while I was there....they didn't have the white/black combo, but the clerk brought these linen/white ones out and I kind of dug them.  Super comfortable, and they are just the right departure from the shoes that are actually popular to wear them. 

 

Signed, ME {lv}

We Did It

Wow. My 18 year old daughter Cora graduated from high school the day before yesterday, and I had no idea how it would affect me - I mean it is her day, right? Not mine. But as the day unfolded, I got this strange, unexpected feeling - like it was about more than that. It was about what I had accomplished, what her dad had accomplished, and it's been unexpectedly moving. 

LIfe has really been all about her for the last 18 years, all the milestones were her milestones - first words, first steps, first day of school, etc, and graduating from high school felt no different - it is a celebration for her, about her accomplishment. But actually - it's really about us. The parents.  

Watching her and her friends walk across the stage at the Memorial Colosseum, in their high heels and robes, looking like adults already, I really felt something shift. We did it. Greg and I did it. We raised two children to maturity, saw them through high school, and out the door, off the nest, into the world. Here we finally are - after all those years of doing everything for the child, and working, and keeping our marriage intact -- words do not really describe the effort it takes. But here we finally ARE! Greg and I about to be a two-some, nobody else to take care of, just each other. I can't wait. xoxoxoxo DR

 

A Town of Treasures

Finally! After about 8 months I finally made it back to the coast. Phew. Sigh. Decompress. I miss the ocean so much being stuck in a frantically busy/noisy city like Portland. Ideally I'd like to get there every other month, but having children kind of puts the kibosh on that...we went frequently with our daughter when she was young, with 2 dogs as well, and this was back in the early 2000's when pet-friendly was hard to find, and hotels weren't nearly as cute as they are now. But we did it, all the time, and it was fun. But then....they get older, and it isn't the same dynamic, at all. Suddenly it becomes all about fielding demands and dealing with tantrums. Tween attitude can be a trip-ruiner. After a few very expensive and miserable trips, we stopped taking them. No more family vacations, until someone learns how to suck it up and not get everything they want and make everyone else miserable. It's only fair. Well, that day never arrived, and now she's about to move out. I am so ready to be a jolly two-some again, Greg and I do know how to have fun and be kind, and that part of us has been dormant for about a decade. SO.....now you see how significant my little trip to the coast was last weekend. The teen was at a music festival, we got a dog and cat sitter, and....went to Astoria by ourselves.

Astoria is a uniquely historic and beautiful town. A bustling commercial fishing town and port, now more of a tourist town, but with all of the old architecture and docks intact. A large Scandinavian population and others from European cultures built beautiful, ornate, artful houses all over the pretty hills of the town. Painted different colors, yellow, pink, blue, green - they are like beautiful frosting on an impressive cake - with the Astoria column as the cherry on top. Walking around my breath was repeatedly taken away the beauty of the old homes, and the views!!! The water, the sky, that humongous bridge, and all the historic buildings just twinkle every way you look. There isn't a bad view to be had. 

Our hotel was the greatest. The Cannery Pier Hotel is...you guessed it, an old cannery...on a pier. Perched at the end of a pier practically under the biggest bridge you've ever seen, is a gorgeous hotel. So clean, so beautiful, so comfortable - the beds are like nothing I've ever slept on before. My back was so happy, and now I have to have one of those mattresses. King sized please. I am very tall, and a king really feels better than a queen! We had a little balcony looking over the water and the giant feet of the bridge, covered in amazing sea birds. We saw seals and pelicans and every now and then an ENORMOUS SHIP would sail right by our room! It was soooo cool! We borrowed the complimentary bikes from the hotel and biked down the docks, taking in the sights and smells of the water front and the beautifully remodeled businesses down there, tourist-friendly but still beautiful. Beer, food, coffee...it was all there. Plus, baby Canadian geese paddling around!

All in all, it was an amazing time. The ocean is my favorite place to be. Well, Paris is actually my favorite place to be, but the Ocean is a close 2nd. I used to run out there with Cora and my dog Dizzy on my birthday when Greg was at work and Cora was a baby, just to spend my birthday in my favorite place, with my favorite dog and my favorite girl.

This year, turning 50, we've booked a room at the Inn at Manzanita for two whole nights in July, so I can spend this significant milestone birthday in my favorite place with my favorite guy. So happy.

Here's to vacation, even if it's only one or two nights! xoxoxo DR