Friday, June 27, 2014
Day 6. London. Surprise Tour for the kids.
European Vacation
Day 6.
London, Thursday June 19, 2014
We try to make an early go of things. But with four kids things can get hairy. We head out and make our way to Baker Street. It's where the Sherlock Holmes museum and store is located. Naomi flips and starts acting like a real teenager. We get a couple of souvenirs and make our way to the tube. Our 24 hour bus tour ended at 11:40 and we needed to make our way to Victoria Station.
I study the map and proceed to follow my instincts. When Marc starts second guessing me I know I have to put an end to it. It's almost 24 hours of questioning my knowledge of navigating busses, trains, and now the tube. Granted, I do not have prior experiences here, however, I have lived in major cities with decent public transport. So I remind him of this little tidbit and we manage to get ourselves to Victoria in no time at all.
We stop for lunch at The Shakespeare. The service was not the best. The food was not the best. I seem to be the only one sticking to a chicken and potato diet. I am craving a spinach salad. And maybe less salt added to everything. No one enjoyed their burger. I take a bite. I almost spit it out. I have no idea what spice or flavoring they added but it made my mouth pucker and eyes slightly tear. Marc found humor in it. He said, "I told you. The food is bad here."
We walk around a bit to kill some time. We have a 2:30 tour scheduled and the kids are dying to know what it is. This was the only tour I left as a surprise. They tried to guess and I didn't twitch a facial muscle for any of their suppositions.
We walk from Victoria Station to Victoria Coach Station. And I try to remind myself to take video of Naomi's and Brendan's reactions. Alora has again fallen asleep. It may be her 3rd nap of the day and it isn't even 2pm.
We find our way to our terminal and for the love of God and all that is holy will you look at the pigeons walking around the inside of the station!!! I'm certain that all color has drained from my face. My palms begin sweating and I find a seat as far away from them as possible.
It does me no good. There are several of them and they are fearless. I use Brendan as a shield and I'm not ashamed to admit it. My fear of birds began when I was about 5 and my aunt made me watch the Hitchcock film. I made my older two children watch it once. Brendan can empathize. Naomi is now afraid of them as well. Yes, I have a lot of fears and phobias. I like to think of them a part of my charm.
I think we can make it just before loading without them finding out what we are doing. I should have known better. There's a woman, a 40+ year old woman, who is yapping away about how much Harry Potter means to her and how it changed her life.
I completely feel the same way but thanks for ruining my surprise for my kids. I didn't even have time to open the camera app on my phone.
Naomi now has tears in her eyes and Brendan is showing more excitement than he has since we left Rome. Aidan is near to spazzing out. My heart swells with pride. It was the reaction I was hoping for. I've said it before and I'll say it again. It's like the Sistine Chapel for teens.
After a 90 min drive to Warner Bros Studio we finally arrive at what I think will be the climax of the trip for them.
The walls to the entrance are lined with early photos of the cast members and replicas of props. Inside we get to see the real deal. Everything in here were actual sets, costumes, and props.
We meet in a room for a little bit of early Harry Potter history. We then file into a theatre where we see behind the scenes magic. The screen lifts and the door to Hogwarts lies in wait.
The door opens and we are in the Great Hall. All that is missing is the ceiling which I believe was CGI'd. I hear nothing else from our guide. I have been transported to a place where magic exists. I halfway expected the Sorting Hat to appear and tell me where I belong. It has been 15 minutes and my mind has officially been blown.
We walk through a doorway and find ourselves face to face with various rooms filled with sets and props. Potions Class. Harry's bedroom. Dumbledore's room. Hagrid's hut.
Each piece was carefully removed and placed back in its original spot on this lot. It's a hot set which means they are ready to shoot if necessary. I can't think of a more wondrous place for my family to be right now. It's that same feeling I get when I ride the boat at It's A Small World. A little piece of me is filled with hope and joy. For a small moment it's possible that we can achieve world peace. That cancer can be cured. CF will no longer be a death sentence for young children. And all of these feelings I have stirring inside of me is made possible through the imagination of one J.K. Rowling. Unbelievable.
We make our way through the room collecting stamps in our "passport." Alora's and Naomi's get filled. The boys are missing one or two. The excitement is evident.
We exit Studio J. It's a bit chilly out. I'm a little hungry. I grab a tuna sandwich and send the others to line up for the butterbeer. I remind someone no cream for Alora.
I take my sandwich and swap out bread slices. Aidan takes half and we sit together, drinking butterbeer and discussing our favorite parts so far.
We head into Studio K (were you paying attention the the name of the first studio? Clever, clever.) and I am about to lose my mind. Haha suckers. I'm in Diagon Alley!! Seriously!!! I no longer feel like I'm such a cool mom for planning this part of vacation for my kids. I feel like I'm a cool person who did something nice for herself.
Just when I think I've hit the mother load of coolness we round the corner to see a scaled down full display of Hogwarts. It's amazing. I would be lying if I said I didn't have tears in my eyes. Magical, simply magical. We all take a moment and let it sink in.
As we come down and around the walkway we enter Olivander's. 37,000 boxes of wands, each one was handwritten and contain the names of everyone who worked on the films. I looked for my name certain that at least one Cecily worked on one of the eight films. No such luck. Then again, my eyes can only travel so high.
The whole day is like a whirlwind. But a magical whirlwind. Although Alora will never remember this she will have the pictures and know that one day, when she can appreciate it, we shall return.
Day 6.
London, Thursday June 19, 2014
We try to make an early go of things. But with four kids things can get hairy. We head out and make our way to Baker Street. It's where the Sherlock Holmes museum and store is located. Naomi flips and starts acting like a real teenager. We get a couple of souvenirs and make our way to the tube. Our 24 hour bus tour ended at 11:40 and we needed to make our way to Victoria Station.
I study the map and proceed to follow my instincts. When Marc starts second guessing me I know I have to put an end to it. It's almost 24 hours of questioning my knowledge of navigating busses, trains, and now the tube. Granted, I do not have prior experiences here, however, I have lived in major cities with decent public transport. So I remind him of this little tidbit and we manage to get ourselves to Victoria in no time at all.
We stop for lunch at The Shakespeare. The service was not the best. The food was not the best. I seem to be the only one sticking to a chicken and potato diet. I am craving a spinach salad. And maybe less salt added to everything. No one enjoyed their burger. I take a bite. I almost spit it out. I have no idea what spice or flavoring they added but it made my mouth pucker and eyes slightly tear. Marc found humor in it. He said, "I told you. The food is bad here."
We walk around a bit to kill some time. We have a 2:30 tour scheduled and the kids are dying to know what it is. This was the only tour I left as a surprise. They tried to guess and I didn't twitch a facial muscle for any of their suppositions.
We walk from Victoria Station to Victoria Coach Station. And I try to remind myself to take video of Naomi's and Brendan's reactions. Alora has again fallen asleep. It may be her 3rd nap of the day and it isn't even 2pm.
We find our way to our terminal and for the love of God and all that is holy will you look at the pigeons walking around the inside of the station!!! I'm certain that all color has drained from my face. My palms begin sweating and I find a seat as far away from them as possible.
It does me no good. There are several of them and they are fearless. I use Brendan as a shield and I'm not ashamed to admit it. My fear of birds began when I was about 5 and my aunt made me watch the Hitchcock film. I made my older two children watch it once. Brendan can empathize. Naomi is now afraid of them as well. Yes, I have a lot of fears and phobias. I like to think of them a part of my charm.
I think we can make it just before loading without them finding out what we are doing. I should have known better. There's a woman, a 40+ year old woman, who is yapping away about how much Harry Potter means to her and how it changed her life.
I completely feel the same way but thanks for ruining my surprise for my kids. I didn't even have time to open the camera app on my phone.
Naomi now has tears in her eyes and Brendan is showing more excitement than he has since we left Rome. Aidan is near to spazzing out. My heart swells with pride. It was the reaction I was hoping for. I've said it before and I'll say it again. It's like the Sistine Chapel for teens.
After a 90 min drive to Warner Bros Studio we finally arrive at what I think will be the climax of the trip for them.
The walls to the entrance are lined with early photos of the cast members and replicas of props. Inside we get to see the real deal. Everything in here were actual sets, costumes, and props.
We meet in a room for a little bit of early Harry Potter history. We then file into a theatre where we see behind the scenes magic. The screen lifts and the door to Hogwarts lies in wait.
The door opens and we are in the Great Hall. All that is missing is the ceiling which I believe was CGI'd. I hear nothing else from our guide. I have been transported to a place where magic exists. I halfway expected the Sorting Hat to appear and tell me where I belong. It has been 15 minutes and my mind has officially been blown.
We walk through a doorway and find ourselves face to face with various rooms filled with sets and props. Potions Class. Harry's bedroom. Dumbledore's room. Hagrid's hut.
Each piece was carefully removed and placed back in its original spot on this lot. It's a hot set which means they are ready to shoot if necessary. I can't think of a more wondrous place for my family to be right now. It's that same feeling I get when I ride the boat at It's A Small World. A little piece of me is filled with hope and joy. For a small moment it's possible that we can achieve world peace. That cancer can be cured. CF will no longer be a death sentence for young children. And all of these feelings I have stirring inside of me is made possible through the imagination of one J.K. Rowling. Unbelievable.
We make our way through the room collecting stamps in our "passport." Alora's and Naomi's get filled. The boys are missing one or two. The excitement is evident.
We exit Studio J. It's a bit chilly out. I'm a little hungry. I grab a tuna sandwich and send the others to line up for the butterbeer. I remind someone no cream for Alora.
I take my sandwich and swap out bread slices. Aidan takes half and we sit together, drinking butterbeer and discussing our favorite parts so far.
We head into Studio K (were you paying attention the the name of the first studio? Clever, clever.) and I am about to lose my mind. Haha suckers. I'm in Diagon Alley!! Seriously!!! I no longer feel like I'm such a cool mom for planning this part of vacation for my kids. I feel like I'm a cool person who did something nice for herself.
Just when I think I've hit the mother load of coolness we round the corner to see a scaled down full display of Hogwarts. It's amazing. I would be lying if I said I didn't have tears in my eyes. Magical, simply magical. We all take a moment and let it sink in.
As we come down and around the walkway we enter Olivander's. 37,000 boxes of wands, each one was handwritten and contain the names of everyone who worked on the films. I looked for my name certain that at least one Cecily worked on one of the eight films. No such luck. Then again, my eyes can only travel so high.
The whole day is like a whirlwind. But a magical whirlwind. Although Alora will never remember this she will have the pictures and know that one day, when she can appreciate it, we shall return.
Day 5. London
European Vacation
Day 5.
London, Wednesday June 18, 2014
1am. Our plane lands, we fill out forms for entrance into the UK, take the Gatwick Express into Victoria, and catch a cab. The night clerk is sweet and accommodating. We make our way up to the rooms and it is after 3am before I settle all the children, including hyper baby, into bed. Baths seem to be best solution.
We wake early despite the late arrival to our hotel. We placed our breakfast order to be delivered and it smells heavenly. I believe it was a combination of the "bacon", sausage, and coffee. The kids are digging it but gladly shovel croissants in their faces. Alora and I settle for the GF bread we picked up in Italy.
We find our way to the tour bus pick up location. We map out our trip and though it seems like a lot it is much nicer on our bodies since we aren't doing any walking. Alora becomes bored and falls asleep. She is unimpressed with London.
We wind our way through some of London's highlights, change buses, and take a cruise along the Thames.
I hate the water. I hate boats. I have horrible motion sickness but let me just say this is a testament of my love for Marc. This was what he wanted to do. Not me. I am quite happy with my feet firmly planted on the floor as God intended.
He mentions something about going up to the London Eye. Ha! My love does run that deep. Brendan and I both have a fear of heights and are claustrophobic. So that's a no. A definite no.
We get out and walk a ways down from Tower Bridge to find lunch. It's a little hole in the wall diner but it's the healthiest we have all eaten in days. I provide a couple of slices of bread for my sandwich and the lady laughs at how small the pieces are. Yeah, thanks. I can't eat your delicious homemade wheat bread and now I have to listen to you chuckle about the size of my bread?!
Naomi is literally beside herself. She is obsessed with all things British and I'm so happy that we were able to put this city in our itinerary. Her face lit up with each new touristy spot we passed. I'm excited for her in a way that only mothers can understand. Possibly some fathers but I don't think Marc gets how much this part of the trip meant to her.
We carry on and find a bus back to the hotel. We are due to meet a family friend's in-laws. The bus, however, is running late and we return to the hotel to find them sitting in the lobby.
Big hugs, kisses, and handshakes are passed around as if we have known each other our whole lifetimes. They are sweet, kind, and genuine. Aside from those in the hospitality industry we haven't been impressed with the level of niceness from the Londonites. Luckily, we are easily impressed with what the city has to offer.
The eight of us walk to find a restaurant. We decide to let our noses guide us and follow a trail of enticing scents. We settle on a beautiful, modern place and are immediately seated by the windrow.
Alora naturally charms the pants off the Tilley's and our server. Naomi has her first taste of cider, not apple. And I'm feeling like a scene from a movie has been inserted into my life.
The service is great, the food delicious, and the company is warm hearted. I'd say overall, a great first day in the UK.
Day 5.
London, Wednesday June 18, 2014
1am. Our plane lands, we fill out forms for entrance into the UK, take the Gatwick Express into Victoria, and catch a cab. The night clerk is sweet and accommodating. We make our way up to the rooms and it is after 3am before I settle all the children, including hyper baby, into bed. Baths seem to be best solution.
We wake early despite the late arrival to our hotel. We placed our breakfast order to be delivered and it smells heavenly. I believe it was a combination of the "bacon", sausage, and coffee. The kids are digging it but gladly shovel croissants in their faces. Alora and I settle for the GF bread we picked up in Italy.
We find our way to the tour bus pick up location. We map out our trip and though it seems like a lot it is much nicer on our bodies since we aren't doing any walking. Alora becomes bored and falls asleep. She is unimpressed with London.
We wind our way through some of London's highlights, change buses, and take a cruise along the Thames.
I hate the water. I hate boats. I have horrible motion sickness but let me just say this is a testament of my love for Marc. This was what he wanted to do. Not me. I am quite happy with my feet firmly planted on the floor as God intended.
He mentions something about going up to the London Eye. Ha! My love does run that deep. Brendan and I both have a fear of heights and are claustrophobic. So that's a no. A definite no.
We get out and walk a ways down from Tower Bridge to find lunch. It's a little hole in the wall diner but it's the healthiest we have all eaten in days. I provide a couple of slices of bread for my sandwich and the lady laughs at how small the pieces are. Yeah, thanks. I can't eat your delicious homemade wheat bread and now I have to listen to you chuckle about the size of my bread?!
Naomi is literally beside herself. She is obsessed with all things British and I'm so happy that we were able to put this city in our itinerary. Her face lit up with each new touristy spot we passed. I'm excited for her in a way that only mothers can understand. Possibly some fathers but I don't think Marc gets how much this part of the trip meant to her.
We carry on and find a bus back to the hotel. We are due to meet a family friend's in-laws. The bus, however, is running late and we return to the hotel to find them sitting in the lobby.
Big hugs, kisses, and handshakes are passed around as if we have known each other our whole lifetimes. They are sweet, kind, and genuine. Aside from those in the hospitality industry we haven't been impressed with the level of niceness from the Londonites. Luckily, we are easily impressed with what the city has to offer.
The eight of us walk to find a restaurant. We decide to let our noses guide us and follow a trail of enticing scents. We settle on a beautiful, modern place and are immediately seated by the windrow.
Alora naturally charms the pants off the Tilley's and our server. Naomi has her first taste of cider, not apple. And I'm feeling like a scene from a movie has been inserted into my life.
The service is great, the food delicious, and the company is warm hearted. I'd say overall, a great first day in the UK.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Day 4 Part 3
Day 4. Part 3.
Tuesday June 17, 2014
You would think that I wouldn't need to break up such a low key day into 3 parts. But I do. Why?! Because Italian taxi drivers (ok, all drivers in Italy) are freaking crazy.
We catch two cabs from the Vatican and naturally the rain stops when we make our way across the river.
I am more tired than I thought I'd be. My bones are achy and there's a small part of the back of my head that is pulsating. I'm dehydrated and physically exhausted. So when my eyes begin to close it should come as no surprise.
Something startles me less than 10 minutes later. I look over and see Naomi has dozed off while Alora is slowly getting weary and is watching videos on the iPad. Her little body begins to slump against mine. I pat her hair down and kiss her forehead. She falls into a deep sleep. Italy has worn her down.
For the first time I am aware of my body sliding across the seat and my left hand reaches automatically for something to grasp. There's nothing available. So I sit there, rigid in anticipation, waiting for the next sharp turn.
I can't find Marc's taxi. We are following his driver because ours doesn't know where our hotel is located. I go into momentary panic mode. Naturally, because I am me, and if you truly know me, you know I jump to worse case scenario.
Visions of being abducted and my daughters ripped from my clutches cloud my mind and I start thinking of what I have on me I can use as a weapon. I think of all the self defense techniques and in which cases would I need them. I flex every muscle preparing myself for anything. Fight or flight.
Then we emerge from the alley, yes, we were zipping down some back alley, and I see the Prius containing the men I love most. I put my fears of being sold to the gypsies (or worse) aside and face a new fear. Car crash leading to paralysis or death.
What in the hell is going on here?!? We are zipping through alleys, racing through the people filled streets, dodging other vehicles, and narrowly escaping collisions by centimeters.
My stomach muscles are clenched and I hang on to Alora's little bobbling head to prevent whiplash.
Traffic was horrible in the beginning. Mostly from the rain but also because people were getting off work. Now we're moving at warp speed and crashing to abrupt halts every 90 seconds.
I'm not sure what route the lead driver took but I'm seeing parts of Rome I hadn't before.
Our 25 minute drive has become 45 minutes and I know two things are certain.
1) Marc is panicked that we will get too late of a start to the airport and miss our flight.
2) Marc is nerve wracked on this drive.
We arrive at Hotel Des Artistes (I still find it ironic our travel agent booked this hotel without knowing my background) and I wake Naomi. How this kid could sleep through that nonsense is a mystery to me.
I am correct in the knowledge I have of my husband. He looks like he's aged 5 years and there's a yellowish green tint to his pallor. I almost feel bad except I was the one traveling with the girls in the most sexist place on earth. Our driver barely spoke and ignored any question I asked. I was the one in the dark. I know Marc was grilling his cab driver like he was an Enterprise employee about to take his Skills test.
We get out of the cab and our driver releases a sigh of relief at the same time I do. It feels like I have done a thousand sit-ups. We look at each other and almost start to laugh. He was just as much in the dark as I was. I notice tiny beads of sweat on every pore of his face. If he just talked to me we could have made the experience more comfortable for each other. Driving while lost in Rome is not fun. Apparently not all Italians can handle it.
We grab our bags and a cab that was called arrives within 3 minutes. The driver asked what time out flight left and looks at the clock. He says it's about a 45-60 minute drive to the airport. We arrive in 35. It was a less harrowing experience than the last taxi ride but I was seated in the front and it somehow lessened the fear.
We pick up our boarding passes and head toward the passport checkpoint. We are signaled by a stern looking officer who calls every family member one by one by name. Each child is then supposed to say who they are.
He makes their names sound so sexy. Aydenn Aleksanderrrr. Alorrra Margueriteé. Nahommee Taylorrr. Brendin Dahviiid. Marrrc Dahviiid. And then...
The Boss.
Yeah, that's right. Even in a chauvinistic country they can't deny when a woman wears the pants. I thought Marc was going to pee himself laughing. He just looked up at the agent and said, "You have no idea!!"
The guy looks at Marc with a dead expression. He says, "Of course I do. Look at her! I know a boss when I see one. She. Is. De. Boss.
Arrivederci Roma. Until we meet again. Ciao!
Tuesday June 17, 2014
You would think that I wouldn't need to break up such a low key day into 3 parts. But I do. Why?! Because Italian taxi drivers (ok, all drivers in Italy) are freaking crazy.
We catch two cabs from the Vatican and naturally the rain stops when we make our way across the river.
I am more tired than I thought I'd be. My bones are achy and there's a small part of the back of my head that is pulsating. I'm dehydrated and physically exhausted. So when my eyes begin to close it should come as no surprise.
Something startles me less than 10 minutes later. I look over and see Naomi has dozed off while Alora is slowly getting weary and is watching videos on the iPad. Her little body begins to slump against mine. I pat her hair down and kiss her forehead. She falls into a deep sleep. Italy has worn her down.
For the first time I am aware of my body sliding across the seat and my left hand reaches automatically for something to grasp. There's nothing available. So I sit there, rigid in anticipation, waiting for the next sharp turn.
I can't find Marc's taxi. We are following his driver because ours doesn't know where our hotel is located. I go into momentary panic mode. Naturally, because I am me, and if you truly know me, you know I jump to worse case scenario.
Visions of being abducted and my daughters ripped from my clutches cloud my mind and I start thinking of what I have on me I can use as a weapon. I think of all the self defense techniques and in which cases would I need them. I flex every muscle preparing myself for anything. Fight or flight.
Then we emerge from the alley, yes, we were zipping down some back alley, and I see the Prius containing the men I love most. I put my fears of being sold to the gypsies (or worse) aside and face a new fear. Car crash leading to paralysis or death.
What in the hell is going on here?!? We are zipping through alleys, racing through the people filled streets, dodging other vehicles, and narrowly escaping collisions by centimeters.
My stomach muscles are clenched and I hang on to Alora's little bobbling head to prevent whiplash.
Traffic was horrible in the beginning. Mostly from the rain but also because people were getting off work. Now we're moving at warp speed and crashing to abrupt halts every 90 seconds.
I'm not sure what route the lead driver took but I'm seeing parts of Rome I hadn't before.
Our 25 minute drive has become 45 minutes and I know two things are certain.
1) Marc is panicked that we will get too late of a start to the airport and miss our flight.
2) Marc is nerve wracked on this drive.
We arrive at Hotel Des Artistes (I still find it ironic our travel agent booked this hotel without knowing my background) and I wake Naomi. How this kid could sleep through that nonsense is a mystery to me.
I am correct in the knowledge I have of my husband. He looks like he's aged 5 years and there's a yellowish green tint to his pallor. I almost feel bad except I was the one traveling with the girls in the most sexist place on earth. Our driver barely spoke and ignored any question I asked. I was the one in the dark. I know Marc was grilling his cab driver like he was an Enterprise employee about to take his Skills test.
We get out of the cab and our driver releases a sigh of relief at the same time I do. It feels like I have done a thousand sit-ups. We look at each other and almost start to laugh. He was just as much in the dark as I was. I notice tiny beads of sweat on every pore of his face. If he just talked to me we could have made the experience more comfortable for each other. Driving while lost in Rome is not fun. Apparently not all Italians can handle it.
We grab our bags and a cab that was called arrives within 3 minutes. The driver asked what time out flight left and looks at the clock. He says it's about a 45-60 minute drive to the airport. We arrive in 35. It was a less harrowing experience than the last taxi ride but I was seated in the front and it somehow lessened the fear.
We pick up our boarding passes and head toward the passport checkpoint. We are signaled by a stern looking officer who calls every family member one by one by name. Each child is then supposed to say who they are.
He makes their names sound so sexy. Aydenn Aleksanderrrr. Alorrra Margueriteé. Nahommee Taylorrr. Brendin Dahviiid. Marrrc Dahviiid. And then...
The Boss.
Yeah, that's right. Even in a chauvinistic country they can't deny when a woman wears the pants. I thought Marc was going to pee himself laughing. He just looked up at the agent and said, "You have no idea!!"
The guy looks at Marc with a dead expression. He says, "Of course I do. Look at her! I know a boss when I see one. She. Is. De. Boss.
Arrivederci Roma. Until we meet again. Ciao!
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Day 4. Part 2. European Vacation
Day 4. Part 2
Tour to Vatican City begins as usual in a hurried bit of excitement. And naturally, we are greeted upon arrival with a rainstorm. I'm sensing a theme here.
The line to get in (without tickets) is wrapped around the building and down the block. It's a most impressive sight.
We trek to find our tour guide and group. I am dodging and weaving pedestrians who have either stopped to check a map or those seeking shelter under awnings. By sheer luck I navigate our path through the rain soaked street and find our meeting point. Somehow my horrible sense of direction becomes a newfound internal compass. Either that or my gut instincts are to be trusted here.
The rain turns into a downpour. I am regretting the fact I packed the rain ponchos and 2 umbrellas. Naomi actually kept hers in her purse. I buy three umbrellas from the street peddlers. 15 euros. Not bad but it still pisses me off.
Our tour guide leads us through security and the room is filled with people trying to get tickets, other tour groups, and those with problems with something or other.
The tour commences and nothing could have prepared me for thirst of knowledge I possessed.
Perhaps it's the enthusiasm our guide exhibits. Perhaps it's just a love of art or love of my religion. Whatever it is I am in awe of the history lesson presented. It brings a fresh perspective of the work that Michaelangelo did and the years and years of dedication to his calling and craft.
We walk through rooms and rooms and hallways with delicately detailed paintings, marble statues, and frescoes. It is beyond impressive and my heart swells with pride to see Naomi at the head of the group, eagerly listening to our guide.
I fall behind several times. I want to soak it all in, swim in it until my body is pruney. I have, like on all the other tours, a small child strapped to my back but this time she is starting to fuss. She is exhausted, hungry, and more than likely tired of "walking" another tour.
In order to distract her we take selfies and I promise her that we are going to church. This seems to quiet her down. She loves going to church. She would go every day if I drove her. Even as we play pass the baby my family has caught on to this and they also try to appease her sensitivities with the idea of going to church at the end of this personal ordeal. It would be simply adorable if I wasn't so irritated.
This was my moment. This is what I wanted for most of my life and this small child is trying my patience by being, well, a child.
I look over at Marc during several points of the tour and I see how engaged he is, how utterly impressed he is by all that is in front of him. I think, and this comes as a shock, he had no idea what he was going to feel, had no preconceived notion of the majestic sights that he would see. And in one moment I stop getting irritated because I know this is his trip too. And though I grew up with the Vatican having a special place in my heart, he did not. I suppose it's as though he tasted the finest wine or eaten the best prepared food that he thought he wouldn't like. Whatever the case I know he is in this moment with me.
Walking in the Sistine chapel felt being hit in the gut with an overwhelming amount of love behind the punch. I could feel my throat tighten and my chest wall opened as though I could expand it to the fullest, hoping to fill every void in my life. I fight the tears and Brendan immediately takes my hand. He guides me to the center of the room and I hear the guard say, "Please do not stop on the steps. Follow your way down and make room for the people behind you."
I think he is talking to me until I look around and realize I'm not the only one who had the same reaction.
There we stand. Alora on my back, Brendan beside me, Naomi on his right. We are frozen and time stands still. I feel rather than see Marc and turn to meet his eyes. He is taken aback and I literally want to cry. He asks if I'm ok. I mumble my reply and shake my head. No, of course I'm not ok, but at the same time I am.
Being the practical one, he understands the grueling effects these past few days have taken on the little two. He has more patience with them and after the first ten minutes in the chapel he takes them both to give me some time.
It's just me with the older two. We stand there just staring, mouths agape and filled with wonderment. Naomi breaks the silence by pointing out little details and scenes that call to her. I feel the muscles in my neck tighten and ache. Four years of this position every day by candlelight, I would have stabbed somebody. Michaelangelo becomes my hero.
Lights whiz by and the guards start yelling. People are taking photos and videos. Brendan and I are disgusted and angered by this. I admit I was also a little jealous by their brazen activities. I know if I got caught I would get my phone confiscated, fined, and probably thrown in prison. Why?! Because that's my luck. Brendan is appalled and considers it stealing. Stealing a piece of history? Stealing photos of precious artwork? Stealing what, I don't know. All I know is my 15 year old son has better morals and values than these people. Then again, it's Brendan. I'm sure if Naomi thought she'd get away with it, she would. And I raised them the same. Go figure.
I wind my way through the crowd and find Marc with the children. I take Alora and make my way out to find a gift shop. I saved for months for this trip and I want to bring a little piece of it back. I remember my mother would always buy us little trinkets at the end of a vacation. Though we didn't have much money she always knew how to make the memory last by buying the right gift.
I select my purchases and head back. Alora is squawking in my ear about going back to church. I tell her we're going to church and she calms down. Funny little baby.
We hand over our headsets to the guide and explain that we have to leave. He is worried we won't get to see inside the basilica. I tell him we went to mass on Sunday and a look of relief washes over his face. Cute little Brit.
Carved on the side of the building is a little souvenir shop. It is filled with nuns behind the register and I hear them all speaking in Spanish. It is oddly refreshing. Brendan starts picking out crosses and a crucifix and who knows what else. I look to see what I can find and I'm glad I saved money for this for months. I am being drawn to items that I know will have special meaning to some friends and family. I know Marc is worried about making the flight to London so I hurry through my selections and we bustle out onto St. Peter's Square for the last time.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle. Naomi and Aidan start singing Singing In the Rain. I take one last look around and feel at peace.
I may return again. I may not. What I do know is that I will never again be able to replicate this time spent with my children. It is truly a glorifying feeling.
Tour to Vatican City begins as usual in a hurried bit of excitement. And naturally, we are greeted upon arrival with a rainstorm. I'm sensing a theme here.
The line to get in (without tickets) is wrapped around the building and down the block. It's a most impressive sight.
We trek to find our tour guide and group. I am dodging and weaving pedestrians who have either stopped to check a map or those seeking shelter under awnings. By sheer luck I navigate our path through the rain soaked street and find our meeting point. Somehow my horrible sense of direction becomes a newfound internal compass. Either that or my gut instincts are to be trusted here.
The rain turns into a downpour. I am regretting the fact I packed the rain ponchos and 2 umbrellas. Naomi actually kept hers in her purse. I buy three umbrellas from the street peddlers. 15 euros. Not bad but it still pisses me off.
Our tour guide leads us through security and the room is filled with people trying to get tickets, other tour groups, and those with problems with something or other.
The tour commences and nothing could have prepared me for thirst of knowledge I possessed.
Perhaps it's the enthusiasm our guide exhibits. Perhaps it's just a love of art or love of my religion. Whatever it is I am in awe of the history lesson presented. It brings a fresh perspective of the work that Michaelangelo did and the years and years of dedication to his calling and craft.
We walk through rooms and rooms and hallways with delicately detailed paintings, marble statues, and frescoes. It is beyond impressive and my heart swells with pride to see Naomi at the head of the group, eagerly listening to our guide.
I fall behind several times. I want to soak it all in, swim in it until my body is pruney. I have, like on all the other tours, a small child strapped to my back but this time she is starting to fuss. She is exhausted, hungry, and more than likely tired of "walking" another tour.
In order to distract her we take selfies and I promise her that we are going to church. This seems to quiet her down. She loves going to church. She would go every day if I drove her. Even as we play pass the baby my family has caught on to this and they also try to appease her sensitivities with the idea of going to church at the end of this personal ordeal. It would be simply adorable if I wasn't so irritated.
This was my moment. This is what I wanted for most of my life and this small child is trying my patience by being, well, a child.
I look over at Marc during several points of the tour and I see how engaged he is, how utterly impressed he is by all that is in front of him. I think, and this comes as a shock, he had no idea what he was going to feel, had no preconceived notion of the majestic sights that he would see. And in one moment I stop getting irritated because I know this is his trip too. And though I grew up with the Vatican having a special place in my heart, he did not. I suppose it's as though he tasted the finest wine or eaten the best prepared food that he thought he wouldn't like. Whatever the case I know he is in this moment with me.
Walking in the Sistine chapel felt being hit in the gut with an overwhelming amount of love behind the punch. I could feel my throat tighten and my chest wall opened as though I could expand it to the fullest, hoping to fill every void in my life. I fight the tears and Brendan immediately takes my hand. He guides me to the center of the room and I hear the guard say, "Please do not stop on the steps. Follow your way down and make room for the people behind you."
I think he is talking to me until I look around and realize I'm not the only one who had the same reaction.
There we stand. Alora on my back, Brendan beside me, Naomi on his right. We are frozen and time stands still. I feel rather than see Marc and turn to meet his eyes. He is taken aback and I literally want to cry. He asks if I'm ok. I mumble my reply and shake my head. No, of course I'm not ok, but at the same time I am.
Being the practical one, he understands the grueling effects these past few days have taken on the little two. He has more patience with them and after the first ten minutes in the chapel he takes them both to give me some time.
It's just me with the older two. We stand there just staring, mouths agape and filled with wonderment. Naomi breaks the silence by pointing out little details and scenes that call to her. I feel the muscles in my neck tighten and ache. Four years of this position every day by candlelight, I would have stabbed somebody. Michaelangelo becomes my hero.
Lights whiz by and the guards start yelling. People are taking photos and videos. Brendan and I are disgusted and angered by this. I admit I was also a little jealous by their brazen activities. I know if I got caught I would get my phone confiscated, fined, and probably thrown in prison. Why?! Because that's my luck. Brendan is appalled and considers it stealing. Stealing a piece of history? Stealing photos of precious artwork? Stealing what, I don't know. All I know is my 15 year old son has better morals and values than these people. Then again, it's Brendan. I'm sure if Naomi thought she'd get away with it, she would. And I raised them the same. Go figure.
I wind my way through the crowd and find Marc with the children. I take Alora and make my way out to find a gift shop. I saved for months for this trip and I want to bring a little piece of it back. I remember my mother would always buy us little trinkets at the end of a vacation. Though we didn't have much money she always knew how to make the memory last by buying the right gift.
I select my purchases and head back. Alora is squawking in my ear about going back to church. I tell her we're going to church and she calms down. Funny little baby.
We hand over our headsets to the guide and explain that we have to leave. He is worried we won't get to see inside the basilica. I tell him we went to mass on Sunday and a look of relief washes over his face. Cute little Brit.
Carved on the side of the building is a little souvenir shop. It is filled with nuns behind the register and I hear them all speaking in Spanish. It is oddly refreshing. Brendan starts picking out crosses and a crucifix and who knows what else. I look to see what I can find and I'm glad I saved money for this for months. I am being drawn to items that I know will have special meaning to some friends and family. I know Marc is worried about making the flight to London so I hurry through my selections and we bustle out onto St. Peter's Square for the last time.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle. Naomi and Aidan start singing Singing In the Rain. I take one last look around and feel at peace.
I may return again. I may not. What I do know is that I will never again be able to replicate this time spent with my children. It is truly a glorifying feeling.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Day 4 Part 1 of My European Vacation
Day 4. Part 1
Woke up late (8:40) and realized we not only had to check out in less than 2 hours but we needed to eat breakfast, pack, and get laundry done. Getting caught in 2 rainstorms makes for a fun adventure but the smell is not so good. Nothing dried and let's just say it was wise to sleep with the window open and allow the room to air out. It also helps that I always pack a small can of Lysol and sprayed the shoes. OMG. What a stench! Mine were fine. The boys? Not so much.
We shoveled food down our throats for a second time and proceeded to pack at warp speed. We transferred clean clothes into half filled bags and loaded the dirty clothes into plastic bags I brought from home. I had spotted a laundromat a block away on our first day here. I didn't expect them to actually do it for us so that was a nice surprise.
We walked down to the Farmacia for some GF bread and snacks. It was a little slice of heaven for those with a wheat allergy or celiacs. And the prices?!? Whoa. Made me wish I brought an extra suitcase just for food!
We decided to spend the next two hours lounging on the rooftop terrace of our hotel room. Yes, we checked out but our flight doesn't leave until 9:45. Our bags were more or less safely stored in a room and we will be back for them after our Vatican City tour at 2:30.
Which brings me to our new dilemma. It's 1:20. Our clothes just got finished, we still have to pack them, and head across the river by 2:15. Metro is so easy but there is a lengthy walk from the station to the Vatican. Eh. We decided to take a cab. We traveled down streets filled with cars, pedestrians, and Vespas. We saw parts of the city we missed on our way in. I am now feeling thankful that this was not an immersion trip but one to whet our appetites. Because as we are traveling down these roads I notice all of the quaint little boutiques and book stores I did not get to shop. And the little cafés I did not get to enjoy. Perhaps next time. We have had a fun filled trip thus far and I have not a single regret.
Woke up late (8:40) and realized we not only had to check out in less than 2 hours but we needed to eat breakfast, pack, and get laundry done. Getting caught in 2 rainstorms makes for a fun adventure but the smell is not so good. Nothing dried and let's just say it was wise to sleep with the window open and allow the room to air out. It also helps that I always pack a small can of Lysol and sprayed the shoes. OMG. What a stench! Mine were fine. The boys? Not so much.
We shoveled food down our throats for a second time and proceeded to pack at warp speed. We transferred clean clothes into half filled bags and loaded the dirty clothes into plastic bags I brought from home. I had spotted a laundromat a block away on our first day here. I didn't expect them to actually do it for us so that was a nice surprise.
We walked down to the Farmacia for some GF bread and snacks. It was a little slice of heaven for those with a wheat allergy or celiacs. And the prices?!? Whoa. Made me wish I brought an extra suitcase just for food!
We decided to spend the next two hours lounging on the rooftop terrace of our hotel room. Yes, we checked out but our flight doesn't leave until 9:45. Our bags were more or less safely stored in a room and we will be back for them after our Vatican City tour at 2:30.
Which brings me to our new dilemma. It's 1:20. Our clothes just got finished, we still have to pack them, and head across the river by 2:15. Metro is so easy but there is a lengthy walk from the station to the Vatican. Eh. We decided to take a cab. We traveled down streets filled with cars, pedestrians, and Vespas. We saw parts of the city we missed on our way in. I am now feeling thankful that this was not an immersion trip but one to whet our appetites. Because as we are traveling down these roads I notice all of the quaint little boutiques and book stores I did not get to shop. And the little cafés I did not get to enjoy. Perhaps next time. We have had a fun filled trip thus far and I have not a single regret.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Day 3 Part 2
Day 3. Naples and Pompeii Day Trip
Part 2.
We arrive at Pizzaria Santuario Ristorante in Pompeii. To distinguish our group from other patrons we are given colored napkins. We are then shown a cart full of beverages from which to choose. I ordered a glass of white wine and I am presented with a .375L of Lacrima Santi Del Vesuvio. It's divine. I want to keep my bottle as a souvenir. I want to savor every ounce of this. This day trip has been a wonderful experience for our family. I suppose being trapped in a moving vehicle for 3+ hours will do that. Whatever the case, I'll take it.
Two different pastas are brought out as a first course. Alora and I are given rice, mine has tomato sauce while Alora's has some sort of wine sauce. We give her watered down soda in a wine glass and she is happy. She steals a sip of my wine and laughs hysterically.
We hop back on the bus and make our way to Pompeii. Mount Vesuvius is not scheduled to erupt so we can begin our tour. Naturally, it starts raining like there's some sort of national drought. We begin our tour and just when it gets interesting I have to leave. As Marc so eloquently put it... Naomi had an eruption of her own. Really?! I took the girls and tried to find a store. We walked just a few blocks when the rain started again. Taking shelter in a grocery store in a foreign country has always been a dream of mine. So thankful it has come true. Yay!!
We leave the store only to be hit with another downpour. We find shelter under a tent located in front of the market. We spot two cabs and make a break for one groaning as the larger one departs. It's empty!!! How can a cab be without a driver?!? Isn't there a law saying cabs must have driver in them!!? Argh.
We speed walk through the rain. And here I am with a baby strapped to my back like some sort of primate.
We get back to rendezvous point, load into bus after a few quick purchases, and make our way back to Rome.
We decide to have dinner at same restaurant since it is after 10pm and we're not feeling too adventurous with four kids. The servers recognize us and begin setting the tables for out rather large family. Alora asks for wine and blows kisses to one of the servers, Mohammed. He is from Egypt but has been in Italy for over 8 years. She is quite taken with him and the feeling is mutual. Massimo is our server again and has taken it upon himself to ply us with delicious foods and wine. Apparently, it is customary to have an end of the meal shot and a tiny glass was thrust into my hands before I object. I don't even remember the last shot that passed these lips. I smile politely and leave a cash tip. I wave my goodbyes as Alora's blowing besos and saying ciao.
We return to our little gelato place around the block and head back to our rooms. I have eaten more gelato in 3 days than I have my entire lifetime. Seriously, it could very well be the cause of world peace if the world's diplomats can just get it together.
Tomorrow is another day. Another adventure. Hard to believe we are only 1/3 in to our European Vacation.
Part 2.
We arrive at Pizzaria Santuario Ristorante in Pompeii. To distinguish our group from other patrons we are given colored napkins. We are then shown a cart full of beverages from which to choose. I ordered a glass of white wine and I am presented with a .375L of Lacrima Santi Del Vesuvio. It's divine. I want to keep my bottle as a souvenir. I want to savor every ounce of this. This day trip has been a wonderful experience for our family. I suppose being trapped in a moving vehicle for 3+ hours will do that. Whatever the case, I'll take it.
Two different pastas are brought out as a first course. Alora and I are given rice, mine has tomato sauce while Alora's has some sort of wine sauce. We give her watered down soda in a wine glass and she is happy. She steals a sip of my wine and laughs hysterically.
We hop back on the bus and make our way to Pompeii. Mount Vesuvius is not scheduled to erupt so we can begin our tour. Naturally, it starts raining like there's some sort of national drought. We begin our tour and just when it gets interesting I have to leave. As Marc so eloquently put it... Naomi had an eruption of her own. Really?! I took the girls and tried to find a store. We walked just a few blocks when the rain started again. Taking shelter in a grocery store in a foreign country has always been a dream of mine. So thankful it has come true. Yay!!
We leave the store only to be hit with another downpour. We find shelter under a tent located in front of the market. We spot two cabs and make a break for one groaning as the larger one departs. It's empty!!! How can a cab be without a driver?!? Isn't there a law saying cabs must have driver in them!!? Argh.
We speed walk through the rain. And here I am with a baby strapped to my back like some sort of primate.
We get back to rendezvous point, load into bus after a few quick purchases, and make our way back to Rome.
We decide to have dinner at same restaurant since it is after 10pm and we're not feeling too adventurous with four kids. The servers recognize us and begin setting the tables for out rather large family. Alora asks for wine and blows kisses to one of the servers, Mohammed. He is from Egypt but has been in Italy for over 8 years. She is quite taken with him and the feeling is mutual. Massimo is our server again and has taken it upon himself to ply us with delicious foods and wine. Apparently, it is customary to have an end of the meal shot and a tiny glass was thrust into my hands before I object. I don't even remember the last shot that passed these lips. I smile politely and leave a cash tip. I wave my goodbyes as Alora's blowing besos and saying ciao.
We return to our little gelato place around the block and head back to our rooms. I have eaten more gelato in 3 days than I have my entire lifetime. Seriously, it could very well be the cause of world peace if the world's diplomats can just get it together.
Tomorrow is another day. Another adventure. Hard to believe we are only 1/3 in to our European Vacation.
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