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.
Day 3 Part 1
Day 3. Naples and Pompeii Day Trip
Part 1
We set our alarm for an early morning start. Despite my efforts to pack the diaper bag and lay out everyone's clothes last night we still ran short on time. Breakfast is served at 7. Tour meets at 7:30. We shovel food down our throats, jump on the Metro, and make our way around the station in search of Green Line Tours. Way more complicated when street names engraved on sides of buildings are eroded by Mother Nature.
We are running up and down a street yelling into every bus asking if they are headed to Naples/Pompeii. Epic fail and I am worried we are going to lose the money shelled out on this tour. Just then Naomi spots a GLT sign down a side street. We race into the building and tell the lady where we are headed. She starts yelling at a young girl who starts yelling into a phone. We see a bus leave from the next block and one still sitting. I send Marc and the kids to chase after it. I ask the lady if we missed the bus and she yells something in Italian and I take off running. We make the bus (the one still waiting, not the one that took off. That one sat at the next block waiting to see if we were its passengers.)
I get a tongue lashing from an old Italian man. I don't take that shit from American men I most certainly am not going to take it from a chauvinistic Italian one. I jump on the bus and shout, "Grazie." over my shoulder.
The weather has again taken us by surprise. It turns dark and cloudy the first 15 minutes into our drive. It begins raining minutes later. About an hour into the bus guide's lecture we start to think we got on the wrong bus.
At our first stop we ask if we're on the right bus. 2 different tours are leaving from the same bus so this all very confusing. No matter how many times I ask I am ignored. Marc tries but isn't as forceful as I would like him to be about gaining information. I could never live here. I'm too outspoken, too strong willed, too much like my mother for the Italians.
Turns out we are on the right bus. Bus tour of Naples continues while others leave and head to Capri. Our new guide enunciates every single syllable. I may shoot my face off. Marc thinks she's great. I wish she was cute so I can at least justify her hire. I don't even think Italian is her first language. Huh.
We stopped at a jewelry making store where the hand carvings left my children in amazement. It was all very beautiful but a little pricey. Alora had just thrown up on Marc so I was a little distracted and nothing really jumped out at me. It's a shame because there were some beautiful pieces there.
We gave our food order to the guide so lunch would be ready on arrival. Choices were fish, beef, or vegetarian. Aidan and I both ordered fish while the others ordered vegetarian. When I asked what the fish was Aidan said, "I don't care! I'll eat any kind of fish!!" Bouts of laughter ensued.
Part 1
We set our alarm for an early morning start. Despite my efforts to pack the diaper bag and lay out everyone's clothes last night we still ran short on time. Breakfast is served at 7. Tour meets at 7:30. We shovel food down our throats, jump on the Metro, and make our way around the station in search of Green Line Tours. Way more complicated when street names engraved on sides of buildings are eroded by Mother Nature.
We are running up and down a street yelling into every bus asking if they are headed to Naples/Pompeii. Epic fail and I am worried we are going to lose the money shelled out on this tour. Just then Naomi spots a GLT sign down a side street. We race into the building and tell the lady where we are headed. She starts yelling at a young girl who starts yelling into a phone. We see a bus leave from the next block and one still sitting. I send Marc and the kids to chase after it. I ask the lady if we missed the bus and she yells something in Italian and I take off running. We make the bus (the one still waiting, not the one that took off. That one sat at the next block waiting to see if we were its passengers.)
I get a tongue lashing from an old Italian man. I don't take that shit from American men I most certainly am not going to take it from a chauvinistic Italian one. I jump on the bus and shout, "Grazie." over my shoulder.
The weather has again taken us by surprise. It turns dark and cloudy the first 15 minutes into our drive. It begins raining minutes later. About an hour into the bus guide's lecture we start to think we got on the wrong bus.
At our first stop we ask if we're on the right bus. 2 different tours are leaving from the same bus so this all very confusing. No matter how many times I ask I am ignored. Marc tries but isn't as forceful as I would like him to be about gaining information. I could never live here. I'm too outspoken, too strong willed, too much like my mother for the Italians.
Turns out we are on the right bus. Bus tour of Naples continues while others leave and head to Capri. Our new guide enunciates every single syllable. I may shoot my face off. Marc thinks she's great. I wish she was cute so I can at least justify her hire. I don't even think Italian is her first language. Huh.
We stopped at a jewelry making store where the hand carvings left my children in amazement. It was all very beautiful but a little pricey. Alora had just thrown up on Marc so I was a little distracted and nothing really jumped out at me. It's a shame because there were some beautiful pieces there.
We gave our food order to the guide so lunch would be ready on arrival. Choices were fish, beef, or vegetarian. Aidan and I both ordered fish while the others ordered vegetarian. When I asked what the fish was Aidan said, "I don't care! I'll eat any kind of fish!!" Bouts of laughter ensued.
Happy Birthday to Me Part 2
Day 2. My 40th Birthday
Part 2.
After our visit to Vatican City we headed back to the rooms to change clothes, get a snack, and a little rest. Italy played against England last night (actually midnight) and the streets were filled with rowdiness and cheers. I knew every moment Italy scored without the aid of a television. It made for a very long night. I wished I had remembered those earplugs Beth Fite encouraged me to get.
And so this brings us to our tour of Ancient Rome. Gone was the beautiful sky we had a glimpse of the day before. Gone was the shining sun with beaming rays of gloriousness. Dark ominous clouds lingered above. This did not bode well for us. However, I packed the umbrellas thinking they would be needed in London. Ten bucks says I won't need them at all there. Go figure.
We begin our tour at the colosseum. The rain that was barely a trickle has now turned into a torrential downpour. We take shelter in the metro station for a few moments before running across the street. Brand new shoes are ruined. They are mesh and I can feel the yuck seeping between my toes. Who knew Italy had this much dirt on the streets?! Oh wait. I did. Because my sister warned me.
Our tour guide, Luca, was not lacking in looks, sense of humor, or information. Qualities one looks for in a tour guide. You know you're getting old when you want give a 20 something man's cheeks a pinch and pat on the head.
We arrive like drowned rats at the Colosseum, huddled and freezing. We get the true accounts of this piece of history. Interesting. I've never seen Brendan so engaged. He knew every answer to every question Luca posed. It was meant to be trivia but this is the kid that got an A in history first semester. Apparently, he studied a lot about Italy.
We made our way through the Colosseum and headed toward the Forum. The amount of information I was processing was enough to make my head ache. The commonly known facts were easy enough to remember. Caesar was born here. He was stabbed 23 times here. He was burned here. The Vestal Virgins lived here. The church was built with parts from Colosseum. That was all fine and dandy. Learning how and why certain people were killed, why certain people did certain things, and how they did it was fascinating. The ancient Romans were so ahead of their time. These people who lived over 2000 years ago used technology that was so advanced it's beyond impressive.
We concluded our tour just in time for another downpour to hit. This is really starting to feel like St. Louis. Fickle freaking weather. My legs are now covered in dirt from mid thigh down. No more tours in dresses for me. My backside was soaked. And despite being turned around and the rain slapping me in the face I somehow knew how to get back to the station. No children were harmed or lost during this time. I consider this a Roman victory for our family. As we head toward the subway we run into the family we met at the hotel. We tell them an easier way back and exchange highlights from our day. It has been less than 12 hours yet it seems like we've been with this family for a week. We run into them again after showers just before we head out to dinner. Felipe, Monica, and Teresa. They live in Northern California and her family is from Zacatecas. There is a slight possibility we could be related. I probably should have exchanged emails. Damn.
Dinner was even better than the previous evening's meal. The prosecco was crisp yet smooth. I am closing out this birthday on such a high note I kind of feel badly Marc's Father's Day was overshadowed by the focus on me. Kind of. But not too much. I mean, as my kids explained to him I was born way before he became a father. Man, I raised smart kids. He was fine with it. It is a milestone and now he can officially say he's been with me for half of my life. Oh wait. I had a gag reflex moment on that one. Uh, wow. Half of my life. Makes me wonder what the next half will be like.
Whatever the case I hope it's filled with gelato. Gelato can make anyone happy. I think gelato should be served at the next summit meeting. Alora has become addicted. The dark chocolate is dairy free and she is obsessed with it. She has also caught on to the Italian ways. As we were exiting the store she yells, "Ciao!!" to the server.
Naomi, Brendan, and I can only laugh in earnest. We clearly need to keep a close eye on this one.
Part 2.
After our visit to Vatican City we headed back to the rooms to change clothes, get a snack, and a little rest. Italy played against England last night (actually midnight) and the streets were filled with rowdiness and cheers. I knew every moment Italy scored without the aid of a television. It made for a very long night. I wished I had remembered those earplugs Beth Fite encouraged me to get.
And so this brings us to our tour of Ancient Rome. Gone was the beautiful sky we had a glimpse of the day before. Gone was the shining sun with beaming rays of gloriousness. Dark ominous clouds lingered above. This did not bode well for us. However, I packed the umbrellas thinking they would be needed in London. Ten bucks says I won't need them at all there. Go figure.
We begin our tour at the colosseum. The rain that was barely a trickle has now turned into a torrential downpour. We take shelter in the metro station for a few moments before running across the street. Brand new shoes are ruined. They are mesh and I can feel the yuck seeping between my toes. Who knew Italy had this much dirt on the streets?! Oh wait. I did. Because my sister warned me.
Our tour guide, Luca, was not lacking in looks, sense of humor, or information. Qualities one looks for in a tour guide. You know you're getting old when you want give a 20 something man's cheeks a pinch and pat on the head.
We arrive like drowned rats at the Colosseum, huddled and freezing. We get the true accounts of this piece of history. Interesting. I've never seen Brendan so engaged. He knew every answer to every question Luca posed. It was meant to be trivia but this is the kid that got an A in history first semester. Apparently, he studied a lot about Italy.
We made our way through the Colosseum and headed toward the Forum. The amount of information I was processing was enough to make my head ache. The commonly known facts were easy enough to remember. Caesar was born here. He was stabbed 23 times here. He was burned here. The Vestal Virgins lived here. The church was built with parts from Colosseum. That was all fine and dandy. Learning how and why certain people were killed, why certain people did certain things, and how they did it was fascinating. The ancient Romans were so ahead of their time. These people who lived over 2000 years ago used technology that was so advanced it's beyond impressive.
We concluded our tour just in time for another downpour to hit. This is really starting to feel like St. Louis. Fickle freaking weather. My legs are now covered in dirt from mid thigh down. No more tours in dresses for me. My backside was soaked. And despite being turned around and the rain slapping me in the face I somehow knew how to get back to the station. No children were harmed or lost during this time. I consider this a Roman victory for our family. As we head toward the subway we run into the family we met at the hotel. We tell them an easier way back and exchange highlights from our day. It has been less than 12 hours yet it seems like we've been with this family for a week. We run into them again after showers just before we head out to dinner. Felipe, Monica, and Teresa. They live in Northern California and her family is from Zacatecas. There is a slight possibility we could be related. I probably should have exchanged emails. Damn.
Dinner was even better than the previous evening's meal. The prosecco was crisp yet smooth. I am closing out this birthday on such a high note I kind of feel badly Marc's Father's Day was overshadowed by the focus on me. Kind of. But not too much. I mean, as my kids explained to him I was born way before he became a father. Man, I raised smart kids. He was fine with it. It is a milestone and now he can officially say he's been with me for half of my life. Oh wait. I had a gag reflex moment on that one. Uh, wow. Half of my life. Makes me wonder what the next half will be like.
Whatever the case I hope it's filled with gelato. Gelato can make anyone happy. I think gelato should be served at the next summit meeting. Alora has become addicted. The dark chocolate is dairy free and she is obsessed with it. She has also caught on to the Italian ways. As we were exiting the store she yells, "Ciao!!" to the server.
Naomi, Brendan, and I can only laugh in earnest. We clearly need to keep a close eye on this one.
Happy Birthday to Me Part 1
Day 2. My 40th Birthday.
Part 1.
I wake in Rome to celebrate my birthday. A milestone birthday. I hear the chatter on the street below and because we are on the same floor breakfast is served I inhale the scent of coffee, prosciutto, and eggs. And here I thought breakfast would consist of bread, cheese, and salami. It was quite delicious, our food. The pastries were tempting and inviting. Naomi tried a little of everything. I was drooling.
At last night's dinner I tried a piece of bread and immediately broke out in hives. It could have been worse. The gut reaction would have killed my Italian high.
We met a family at breakfast who were also heading to the Vatican. They were kind enough to guide us through the Metro which is actually very easy and located not too far from our hotel, Des Artistes.
Upon entering Vatican City no one could have prepared us for the awe inspiring moment we faced. It was breathtaking. It was magnificent. It was glorious and humbling. And that was only the outside.
Once we made our way through security and the front doors of St. Peter basilica it was as though time stood still and every wrong doing in the past was made right. I could have stayed still for hours and it would have seemed like minutes. The architecture, the statues, the artwork. No amount of picture taking could describe the feelings one gets when in front of these masterpieces. Marc, who isn't even Catholic, needed a moment to absorb it all. We wound our way through the halls and came upon a prayer and reflection room. There we sat for some time in prayer and when I saw the tears in my children's eyes I knew I made the right choice in bringing them here. I prayed and have never felt closer to inner peace than I did in that room.
We attended the Indian service and though there was a language barrier it was easy to follow along. It was beautiful and moving. There were only a handful of people of Indian descent but all of us present were united by one common factor. My heart was bursting with feelings I had never experienced. I wanted to take a moment to drink it in and be drunk with love. Love for my family. Love for my life. Love for the people beside me.
There are some things better left unspoken. There are some moments that should remain private. There are also moments no matter how artfully described one could never truly embrace. I have never been more cognizant of these facts than I am right now.
As each child hugged and kissed me after our time in the basilica I knew this would be a moment for them that will always be cherished. To quote Wicked, I know our lives have been changed for the better. They have been changed for good.
Part 1.
I wake in Rome to celebrate my birthday. A milestone birthday. I hear the chatter on the street below and because we are on the same floor breakfast is served I inhale the scent of coffee, prosciutto, and eggs. And here I thought breakfast would consist of bread, cheese, and salami. It was quite delicious, our food. The pastries were tempting and inviting. Naomi tried a little of everything. I was drooling.
At last night's dinner I tried a piece of bread and immediately broke out in hives. It could have been worse. The gut reaction would have killed my Italian high.
We met a family at breakfast who were also heading to the Vatican. They were kind enough to guide us through the Metro which is actually very easy and located not too far from our hotel, Des Artistes.
Upon entering Vatican City no one could have prepared us for the awe inspiring moment we faced. It was breathtaking. It was magnificent. It was glorious and humbling. And that was only the outside.
Once we made our way through security and the front doors of St. Peter basilica it was as though time stood still and every wrong doing in the past was made right. I could have stayed still for hours and it would have seemed like minutes. The architecture, the statues, the artwork. No amount of picture taking could describe the feelings one gets when in front of these masterpieces. Marc, who isn't even Catholic, needed a moment to absorb it all. We wound our way through the halls and came upon a prayer and reflection room. There we sat for some time in prayer and when I saw the tears in my children's eyes I knew I made the right choice in bringing them here. I prayed and have never felt closer to inner peace than I did in that room.
We attended the Indian service and though there was a language barrier it was easy to follow along. It was beautiful and moving. There were only a handful of people of Indian descent but all of us present were united by one common factor. My heart was bursting with feelings I had never experienced. I wanted to take a moment to drink it in and be drunk with love. Love for my family. Love for my life. Love for the people beside me.
There are some things better left unspoken. There are some moments that should remain private. There are also moments no matter how artfully described one could never truly embrace. I have never been more cognizant of these facts than I am right now.
As each child hugged and kissed me after our time in the basilica I knew this would be a moment for them that will always be cherished. To quote Wicked, I know our lives have been changed for the better. They have been changed for good.
Day 1 Adventure 2
Day 1 Adventure 2
Toronto Airport. Really?!? Do you have to be so confusing? Up and down and up to go down again. Back up to go down only to go up again.
The flight attendant to Montreal told me to not nurse Alora and to put her in the seatbelt to which she screamed her head off like a banshee. I apologized to the people around us though no one cared. They heard her snide commentary. (I get that she's 2 and in America not many nurse their kids that long but my kid has severe food allergies and is labeled 'failure to thrive because she's in the less than 1% range for weight. So unless you know the deal and have a kid like mine, rude lady, I suggest you keep your dirty looks and snotty attitude in check.)
I plied the child with a lollipop and all was well. I feel better about packing those now.
Montreal Airport. 5 hour layover. Alora slept despite our efforts to keep her awake. We found a nice little restaurant to have dinner and had the most delicious fries drowning in some sort of steak sauce with something called "squeaky cheese" on top. Didn't try the cheese but the sauce was pretty stinky good.
The flight across the ocean was pretty uneventful. Older kids and Marc slept. Alora climbed all over me. We walked up and down the plane. We were served dinner and then a light breakfast. They showed 3 1/2 movies that I didn't really watch.
I finally handed her over to Brendan (she was literally climbing over the seat to get to him) and took a 30 min nap. She was awake for over 3 hours before finally succumbing to sleep. I managed a 90 min nap.
We landed and headed for customs. Notice I didn't say baggage claim. Perks of packing like pro. The line as Naomi called it "looked like a ride at Disneyland" however, we were proven wrong as it moved a whole lot faster.
We caught a cab just outside FCO and the driver made my skills look like I drive Miss Daisy. He was a fount of information and pointed out things I knew no tour guide would ever think was a point of interest. For example, San Paolo basilica is the most important church in Rome. He explained why but I think it's something you would have to be here in order to understand. At one point I was literally covered in good bump and moved to tears. Something about this place that makes your heart swell with love and appreciation.
Our hotel rooms were lovely. Queen sized bed with a twin on opposite wall. Bathrooms featured a bidet which no one has yet to try though Alora thinks she can use it as a sink. Gross. The showers are so small I have wondered how Marc fits in it?
We all took showers and naps before heading to Mama Angela's for dinner and wine. Everything about the place screamed Italy from the movies and then it suddenly hit us all like a ton of bricks that we are actually in Italy. What a great way to begin our vacation. With gratitude and appreciation. It was just as I dreamed and hoped this trip would be. This is a moment I'll cherish forever. My family sitting around a dining table in Italy talking about how crazy wonderful it is to be here. Yeah, this is a good life indeed.
Toronto Airport. Really?!? Do you have to be so confusing? Up and down and up to go down again. Back up to go down only to go up again.
The flight attendant to Montreal told me to not nurse Alora and to put her in the seatbelt to which she screamed her head off like a banshee. I apologized to the people around us though no one cared. They heard her snide commentary. (I get that she's 2 and in America not many nurse their kids that long but my kid has severe food allergies and is labeled 'failure to thrive because she's in the less than 1% range for weight. So unless you know the deal and have a kid like mine, rude lady, I suggest you keep your dirty looks and snotty attitude in check.)
I plied the child with a lollipop and all was well. I feel better about packing those now.
Montreal Airport. 5 hour layover. Alora slept despite our efforts to keep her awake. We found a nice little restaurant to have dinner and had the most delicious fries drowning in some sort of steak sauce with something called "squeaky cheese" on top. Didn't try the cheese but the sauce was pretty stinky good.
The flight across the ocean was pretty uneventful. Older kids and Marc slept. Alora climbed all over me. We walked up and down the plane. We were served dinner and then a light breakfast. They showed 3 1/2 movies that I didn't really watch.
I finally handed her over to Brendan (she was literally climbing over the seat to get to him) and took a 30 min nap. She was awake for over 3 hours before finally succumbing to sleep. I managed a 90 min nap.
We landed and headed for customs. Notice I didn't say baggage claim. Perks of packing like pro. The line as Naomi called it "looked like a ride at Disneyland" however, we were proven wrong as it moved a whole lot faster.
We caught a cab just outside FCO and the driver made my skills look like I drive Miss Daisy. He was a fount of information and pointed out things I knew no tour guide would ever think was a point of interest. For example, San Paolo basilica is the most important church in Rome. He explained why but I think it's something you would have to be here in order to understand. At one point I was literally covered in good bump and moved to tears. Something about this place that makes your heart swell with love and appreciation.
Our hotel rooms were lovely. Queen sized bed with a twin on opposite wall. Bathrooms featured a bidet which no one has yet to try though Alora thinks she can use it as a sink. Gross. The showers are so small I have wondered how Marc fits in it?
We all took showers and naps before heading to Mama Angela's for dinner and wine. Everything about the place screamed Italy from the movies and then it suddenly hit us all like a ton of bricks that we are actually in Italy. What a great way to begin our vacation. With gratitude and appreciation. It was just as I dreamed and hoped this trip would be. This is a moment I'll cherish forever. My family sitting around a dining table in Italy talking about how crazy wonderful it is to be here. Yeah, this is a good life indeed.
Friday, June 13, 2014
First Trip To Europe
Day 1
Adventure 1
We arrive at Lambert and I have Marc drop me and the kids off to wait in line for our boarding passes. Somehow I have the face of an honest person because they give me Marc's boarding pass without him being present. The agents were impressed that we had no bags to check and that we were headed for a 10 day trip to Europe. Word spread quickly and it was like I was some sort of traveling show. "Come look at the mommy of four with only 7 carryon bags!!" Yay me.
Just as we receive our last set of passes Marc arrives on the scene and we make our way to the elevator. That's when it finally hits me that we are really doing this. We are headed to Europe as an entire family.
Security is always the same. I usually forget to take out an item. Sometimes it's a Swiss Army knife. This time it was Alora's skin medication and about 10 mini tubs of peanut butter. This is why I will NEVER be given a TSA precheck.
We arrive at the gate. Marc gets coffee and donuts. I allow Alora to push Puppy (Snoopy) in her stroller. All is well. For the time being.
Marc and Naomi have seats separate from the rest of us so they are to board first. I open my purse to give them their passports and I look up to find Alora missing. Brendan and Aidan are right beside me. Marc was right in front of me. Naomi was in line. I won't lie. I almost threw up in my mouth. Seriously?! We haven't even left the country and these fools can't help me watch a small baby?!?
I ran through some people searching for the small escape artist. She was about to head toward the donut stand. I think she thinks we try to keep them from her on purpose. I tell her they will make her sick. I don't think she cares.
I grab the kid and grumble my intense displeasure at my family. I'm finally allowed to board and Brendan takes off leaving me with 2 kids, the stroller, and 2 bags. What is it with this family?!? They've turned into selfish, self absorbed monsters all of a sudden?!?
The flight attendant is a dream. Sweetest little Canadian I've ever met. Then again I don't think I know any. Whatever. I tell her my family left me in the dust and she says she will help.
I settle the little 2 and Brendan needs help figuring where the bags go. Really dude?! Where do they always go? How about under the seat???
I see Marc about the same time Alora does.
"Daddy! Daddy! I see you!!"
Cute. Adorable. Would have found it endearing if I didn't want to punch him in the gut right about now.
The lady next to him says she will trade seats. I tell her (over the heads of about 12 people), "No thanks. I don't want to sit next to him at this time."
As luck would have it he's sitting next to the emergency door. The one person who can't handle the stress of a crisis situation and he's sitting next to the damn emergency door!!
Good grief.
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