Day Thirteen & Fourteen: Our Journey Ends

Mission:

• "Home, James!"

We left with hand-written directions to the Heidelberg military PX where we would stock up on some missed and needed American goods. Grandma is a military mom who could grant us entrance and buy us food. We were more than willing to go along in the game and finding the PX was just that, a game. The directions were clear, but like so many other adventures in our Tour Bus, the way was all an illusion. First we found the base where they helped us turn around and head towards the PX which was several blocks away. Once we found this PX they made us get out of the van, took each of our passports, and searched the van as we stood in a line along the wall. I was impressed at how thorough they were and thankful at the same time. I felt a bit of pride as I watched our countrymen at work.

As soon as we pulled into the PX it was like stepping over heavens threshold. I had to restrain myself from kneeling and kissing the paved "American" parking lot. A car lot sold the latest American cars, even a couple used ones. Fast food was congregated in one corner of the mini-America, dry cleaners and shoe store on the other. There was a bookstore which was tempting to rummage through, but we chose the store next to it as it was the largest and we assumed we'd find our foods there. It was like stepping into a Wal-Mart back in the states. It amazed me to see people pulling American dollars out of their wallets to pay for things. You've no idea how long it's been since I've held a twenty dollar bill in my hand. I actually felt the urge to grab one out of their hand and give it a good rub. We loaded up on all sorts of amazing things we'd forgotten about or never knew about and went in search of the food items.

Fearless Leader had surveyed the layout of the place and determined there was no food to be had behind this military fence so we'd have to search for the other location, but while we were here Taco Bell was calling our names . . . quite loudly. You never know how good Taco Bell really is until you've missed it. We waited in that line and ordered twice the amount of food we'd be able to eat and savored every little bite we got. The left overs joined us for the rest of the ride home and even if we never got to eat them we'd at least live off of the lovely aroma they'd fill the van with.

Upon finding the other PX location half way around Heidelberg, we parked outside the gates as we'd not signed ourselves in properly at the last stop. Only Army mom and pop could enter the gates and gather the goods. I made a quick list of the items we'd been missing most and those things which were heavy or impossible to ship from the states and sat in the van disappointed that I wouldn't be able to wander the aisles myself and live the experience of an American supermarket again, but when they returned with overflowing grocery carts I couldn't help but be pleased with the experience as it ended. By the time we'd found a spot for every packed paper bag (you can tell you're hopeless when just the sight of a paper bag makes you leap for joy) the van was filled to every last crook and cranny it could yield and we cruised on down the road.

We almost missed our dinner due to some communication errors. You see, some of us still had some sight-seeing in mind, while others only had road on the brain. We did eat and we ate at a city known for its beautiful cathedral, Koln, Germany. The city is lovely. I can tell you this because we had to drive down practically every one of it's main streets and across each of its bridges to find a spot to eat next to the cathedral towers. By the time we did the sun was setting on them, but the atmosphere made up for the lack of sun. A group of street musicians stopped in front of our sidewalk table to play us a few tunes while we ate our South American meal. I cannot say it was even South American, but it was supposed to have been inspired from somewhere on that continent. It was tasty, nonetheless. Even though we only got to see the towers from a distance, the experience was still one to remember and closed our tour of Europe properly.

The road led us home and we pulled into our familiar street sometime after midnight. The children were laid asleep into their own beds for the first time in two weeks and I wondered if their dreams would be sweeter. We adults unpacked the van as speedily as we could and clambered into our own beds to prepare for the day of departure.

Day Fourteen was just that; a day of departure. It was a haze of packing and running from room to room preparing for the inevitable goodbyes. Even as we all piled back into the Tour Bus without ceremony for the last time there was a buzz of emotion which clouded what was really being felt. The van was parked, the lines were wound, the bags were checked, and the plane beckoned it's last few passengers. As they pushed their way through security the grandchildren waved goodbye with tears and Screech Monkey called after them by name accompanied with loud cries of abandonment and the pain of loss. I had not seen this emotion in her ever before and I felt sorry that she could not experience the parting of ways with her grandparents more frequently. Eventually we turned our backs and parted our separate ways with a let down so severe it seemed as if we'd been dropped into a dream . . . or could it have been out of a dream?

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Day Twelve: Heidelberg, Germany

Mission:

• Tour the old walled city, even if the shops are closed on a Sunday
• Find the path up to the castle on the hill
• Make our way across the famous old bridge
• Once across find one of the paths leading to the road with a view, Philosopher's Way
• This is the night I've been waiting for. I will walk with my husband in the castle gardens at night and enjoy a touch of romance.

Somehow we were now in the stride of vacationing life and got out of the hotel in the morning and began walking the streets before most of the other tourists arrived. It was a Sunday and the shops were all closed except for a few that opened later to cater towards the tourists. The cathedral in the center of town was also closed, but you could hear the pipe organ playing from blocks around it's center. Like every other city street we've walked during this trip there was enough to distract us, making each block take a half hour to walk. A small fruit stand on the side of the road, a view of the mountains through a side street lined with multi-colored three story brick buildings, each bedecked with verandas or windows dangling with colorful vines and flowers.

Over time we found ourselves at the base of the castle. A long and steep cobblestone road led up to the gates and from there we wound our way through the various stages of walls and barricades. The castle never saw a single victory and with each capture the new inhabitants rebuilt or added on so the walls and ways were as confusing as numerous. But the view from the hill was lovely. The town consisted of orange roofs and river running along its side. The historical arched bridge crossed the river to where a hill covered in various fields overlooked the town. I knew this would be our next adventure, but for now we enjoyed the castle and its gardens.

High above the city the gardens terraced themselves along the hill behind the castle. Artists came to entertain the tourists with their enchanting music here and many people either stood along the wall to stare out at the view, lazed on the green grass, or walked the enchanted lanes. We chose the later. I drew my daughter into my own fantasies, encouraging her to imagine the time when princes and princesses walked the gardens alone. Together we walked and everyone else vanished. The only sound was our own footfall and the splashing of water from the fountain in the middle of the pool at the end of our shady lane. Where another lane merged a prince bumped into us unannounced and asked to join us in our midday walk. Shyly she took his offered arm and he escorted us to the pool. He left us there to dream away our fantasies while looking into the waters and mingling with the modern crowds. The spell was broken, but I trust it was a time and place that will forever remain in her dreams.

We found what remained of the rooms of the castle, even what was hidden below: a huge beer barrel. Huge just does not describe it's size. There were stairs to get to the platform on the top of it. It was here we tasted our first ice wine. A bottle cost 50 euros, so we took the tasting first. It was the most glorious wine! I would easily be able to live off of the wine itself, but would likely have to sell my children and spouse to afford it (a thought which sometimes passes my mind). Our parents left with a bottle and upon remembering how hard my father looked for a bottle of this when we were last in Germany we picked them up a bottle as well. My mouth waters at the thought of this delicacy.

By now our tummies were rumbling and we took it upon ourselves to find the coziest place (for some reason "cozy" just doesn't describe the atmosphere as well as the Dutch word "gezellig"). Fearless Leader had spotted a pub with character along the main road in the old city earlier that morning so we headed towards it. Sure enough, the inside was full of charm and it only got better as you walked further into its various chambers. Before long we found ourselves on the back patio which was covered to form an extra room minus a wall or two. Subtle trickling sounds from the fountains set the mood and we relaxed for a delicious linner. The food was great and the beer was better.

We left the pub wishing we could have lingered a little longer, but our tummies could hold no more. It was tempting to make up an excuse to come back later. Instead we turned towards the river and crossed the arched bridge. She was beautifully made and as we found out later, she also used to be completely covered. Amazing it must have been.

Somewhere on the other side of the bridge was a path which supposedly met up with the Philosophers Way, a walking road which gave a phenomenal view of the city. We spotted the narrow entrance into what appeared to be an alleyway lined with tall brick walls covered in green moss and overhanging ivy. It was like a maze without the extra corridors and I soon found myself racing up the path behind my daughter who insisted the others were chasing us and we needed to get away from them as fast as possible. With each turn we were sure to lose them. Who's fantasy were we living now? We ran all the way until we reached a terrace with a view and I forced her to stop for a breather. I've never been a runner (for long, at least) and the steep uphill run was getting the better of my sea-level lungs. The others caught up to us and I realized there was an issue I had not witnessed first hand in my escape. The men were now carrying the double stroller and its charges up the hill as there were too many steps to get it up and at odd intervals. They'd already dismissed turning back as they had no way of letting the two escapees know of a change of plans, so on we went up the hill. Up and up it went with tiny switchbacks and narrow turns. The men had sweat drenching their shirts and all of us were puffing, but the view from The Way was worth it all (or so they claimed). There were many views along the path down and at each we took a few moments to take in the beauty of them. The sun was now beginning to set and gave a spectacular glow to the city.

It was arranged somewhere along the way down that we would get our date night tonight. There was a pool at the hotel which had to be used at least once during our stay and the grandparents thought it an appropriate diversion for our crew of kids. Isn't it funny that if you get a hotel with a pool you never have time to use it, but feel guilty if you don't? I wonder if it is more stress to get a hotel with a pool and constantly worry about how to fit in enough time to use it, or if you should just get a hotel without a pool and take in the sights instead. I suppose the moment you did that you'd find yourself with a huge chunk of time on your hands and nowhere to spend it.

We rushed out of the hotel and into our freedom. The city was not as active as it had been when we entered it on Saturday night, but we were not out for the night life. We were out just to be . . . free. We walked the streets at our own pace, stopped when we wanted to stop, peed when we had to pee, and laughed . . . a lot. We found a restaurant tucked into a candlelit square just off the main footpath. In the center of the garden square was a lit fountain and we seated ourselves at one of the tables placed around its rim. We were late enough that most of the other couples were slowly trickling out of the gates by the time our food hit the table. We didn't need much as we'd had our late dinner in the pub. In fact, we'd originally set out for ice cream, but who could refuse this scene. We ordered a pizza to share and chocolate desserts instead. It was wonderful to sit at a table and not have to talk over the numbing chatter of children or their constant interruptions. We could pick whatever topic we wanted without worry about little wondering ears, well maybe for the ears at the next table, but I think they were more interested in our English than the actual conversation. We sat by the fountain and laughed together until all the other tables had been cleared and ours was the only remaining candle lit. The air began to bring with it a slight chill and we took our cue to exit the garden gates and make the walk up the hillside to the castle gardens. The gardens and castle walls were lit and on every other bench sat lovers, some by candlelight with wine, others in a remote dark corner. What was this couple doing? Well, seeing that we'd forgotten the candles and the wine, had a bed waiting for us in an empty room back at the hotel, and had just had the best time talking since the ocean, we got out the camera and the tripod and set to work trying to capture some night shots of the castle. I suppose this may have been more for my own pleasure as my man would likely have chosen a dark corner if I'd really given him that option, but we were both happy with our chosen entertainment anyway. We captured angle after angle and soon the clock struck midnight and most all lights went out in the gardens. The security team made their rounds and we packed up the tripod and the camera for our journey back to the hotel.

The return journey was longer than I'd anticipated; it always takes at least twice as long to make as the original. My feet were killing me and I found walking along the cobblestones in my bare feet was preferable to the ache from my worn shoes. I refused to put them on even for our ritzy hotel and snuck across the marble floor as quiet as a mouse so as not to be detected without the proper attire. Once we made it back to the room I inspected the shoes and realized I'd worn a huge crack across the middle of the sole like a hungry mouth munching on the bottom of my foot with each step. Gladly, I threw them in the trash. Now I was stuck with my smelly Keens. I bought the Keens when they first arrived on the market and they have been great shoes with the common drawback that most sandals come with: odor. Although, these came with a special sole that if you placed them in the sun they'd descent themselves. Unfortunately, the weather this summer has not been sunny and I cannot say if their magic has worn off or if I have not been able to be as diligent as previous summers to keep them from getting a scent, but they've stunk out a number of victims this summer. Sorry to all of you had to come across their path. Dare I throw those handy, expensive, yet smelly things away? I haven't yet. Smelly though they may be I cannot bare to part with them, even if I cannot bare to wear them.

W.C. Report:

What is it with the places in Europe and toilet paper? Even in that classy pub we ate at they were all out of toilet paper. When I entered the ladies room I spotted a group of women dividing the last of their kleenex to share and took it upon myself to do something about it. I went to the bar and informed them there were several ladies in the WC without toilet paper and I was concerned for them. At least they got right on the issue and ran with a stack towards the room. Knowing the disaster which awaited in that room I took my chances with the toilet in the front room. Know what? No toilet paper. But I was getting used to the routine and checked before I even thought of establishing my position upon the thrown.

Tragedy Report:

We did not leave the town with souvenirs, we did not get ourselves a bottle of ice wine, and we did not get a coo-coo clock. And I left with worry over whether or not I stored or gave away the candle nativity carousel that our German-Dutch friends gave to us when they moved, as the same ones being sold here were several hundred of euros each. I loved it then, but did I find it worth the space it would take up in my in-laws basement at the time? I fear I may have let it go as my friends did, but like so many of my belongings left behind in the states, I cannot remember where it may have ended up. I hope it found a better home than Goodwill if it is not waiting for us in the basement.

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Day Eleven: Welcome to Reims . . . France!

Welcome to Reims

We awoke and packed hurriedly to get out of the hotel and find ourselves a nice little French cafe where we knew a tasty French breakfast awaited us. Fearless Leader had taken the chance to jog around the city before any of us awoke, found the cathedral, and spotted those few little places were we might find parking and place to eat. We picked the cafe with display windows in the front and a long stretch of tables spilling out over the cobblestone square and settled in for our first and last French breakfast. Most of our company ordered the usual croissants, bread, and coffee, but I took the chance to bring my daughters up the display window and let them pick out one item of choice. I, naturally, picked out one of the largest and most delicious looking things to share with everyone. When my mother-in-law went to pick it up at the window they asked if we would like it boxed to eat it as dessert that evening. Ha! By evening we'd be in Germany and the air or atmosphere across the border would not do a French pastry the justice it deserved. We'd live lavishly this morning and eat according to our hearts content. The meal was the best I've ever had and I will not forget it in this lifetime. I imagined myself sitting in under the umbrella in the middle of the square all day long eating one after another of the various pastries at the slightest rumble of my tummy. But the tour must move on and we walked the streets towards Reims Notre Dame.

At this Notre Dame the kings of France celebrated their coronation ceremonies and lining the walls were the various kings which had entered commonly royal and left with a crown upon their head. This cathedral has witnessed many a great day. The building which stands today was built in the late 13th century to replace a destroyed basilica which had been the baptismal place of Clovis, who was the first to start the tradition. It was full of stained glass windows and statues and pews and the like and I could have found myself bored with yet another cathedral if it weren't for the history which its walls had witnessed. I never liked history in school, but now that I get a chance to live it I am fascinated to the point of loosing myself to wander with the halls with ghosts of the past. I envisioned Joan of Arc escorting her king, Charles VII, through the doors and into victory by means of a coronation in the only church able to perform such an honorary feat. I had to force myself to rightly envision her at a young seventeen? She died burned at the stake only two years later. This church also saw the coronation of the youngest king, Louis XIV, at the age of 4. What would possess a nation to crown a four-year-old king? I can only imagine the uncertainty and forced national pride that filled the aisles on that day. Leave my daydreams I must, for there was a date we could not miss a second time.

Reims is known in the champagne region for the chalk pits which house the champagne as it ages. As a result we were given the choice of a variety of different wineries to choose from all in the same vicinity. I took it upon myself to make reservations with the one house which was recommended above all others and one of the only which required a reservation. I figured if we had time for any of the others we could travel to them as well, but by this time in our trip we began to grasp what goals were within realities grasp. One tour would be enough for the day before we'd be back on the road heading towards the German border. I also choose the Pommery estate because it was established by a woman, Madame Pommery, after her husband died leaving her the beginnings of a winery. She turned it into her own taste and design and found her own abandoned Roman chalk pit which she turned into underground tunnels to house her champagne. I felt it might do my family of girls some good to see all that a single woman could accomplish. She was a lover of art so, to this day, the tunnels are filled with various forms of art. Originally she had hired a sculptor which she sent into the caves to carve elaborate masterpieces along the walls. He worked non-stop for five years in the tunnels, carving by candle light, until he went blind. We've been having issues with our new reader lately; she can't seem to put books down even to sleep now and we often find her reading well into the dark night. I've told her we love her to read and she can read before she falls asleep, but she must only read a short while before it gets dark otherwise her eyes will suffer. Thankfully the fateful tale of the artist supported my argument and she has stopped reading into the darkness since.

Though the tunnels are not as full as they once were there were still several alleys which were piled rack upon rack as far as the flash could penetrate and further. Bottles of reserve lay collecting dust from each year behind bars. The previous means of transporting bottles by an overhead pulley system still wound its way through and around walls. It was amazing to tour the caves, but the girls were chilly and frightened in the low-lit passages. We were glad to get back above ground and to our wine-tasting, which warmed us up enough to move on to the next country.

Once we crossed the border we stopped in a little German town and found the local pub. The locals all gave us a look as if we'd just beamed down from an alien ship, but let us pass after some minimum inspection. The food was wonderful, it was refreshing being back in a familiar atmosphere and language. The girls were anxious for schnitzel again and scarfed it down like it was going out of style. Likely, it was. We would only have a few days to enjoy Germany once again. After the girls were done eating I took it upon myself to escort them out the door once more as they had energy to burn and noise to make which did not go together comfortably with the older generation of Germans seated nearby. Once out the door I noticed a little back street which called to my inner sense of adventure. I knew the rest of the family would come looking after the bill was paid, but if they didn't find us waiting at the Tour Bus this little road would surely be the next best place to look, right? When we rounded the corner we bumped into the town playground which was full of play equipment the girls had never dreamed of before. This country must not worry about lawsuits as the toys were marvelously fun! My favorite was the tiered mountain of rocks and grass which you had to climb to reach the top of the slide. And a tunnel ran underneath just big enough for a small child to crouch through. The girls tried out each to burn off some of their pent up energy and we had blast. I made sure the ruckus was loud and the laughter plentiful so the rest of our party could find us. Eventually they did, but not after much worry and wonder, and when they did it was all fun and games started anew. Even the adults took the toys for a spin. Some of the locals joined us before long and it ended in exchanging directions towards Heidelberg. All we really wanted to know was if we could get back onto the interstate going the right direction from this little town or not, but he began a long and ominous report about how we'd be up for a long and difficult drive trying to find our way to the elusive Heidelberg, which he wasn't even sure he'd be able to find himself. Very reassuring. I wonder if he'd ever really left his village.

Heidelberg was easy to find. The hotel was not. We did arrive late, as he'd predicted, but once we got to the street the hotel was supposed to be on we drove circle after circle without ever passing it's number. And whoever said men don't ask directions? This time, instead of Burger King, it was Subway which saved the day. No, we wouldn't let her out of her seatbelt because we were sure the hotel was just around the corner, and once the local Burger King gave us the proper direction, it was. From this point on it is all a blur. Something about parking the bus and elevators and hallways leading to nowhere and cards which wouldn't work in the doors and a bed.

WC Report:

All is as normal as it ought to be. Either that or we are getting used to it ;)

Tragedy Report:

While touring the cathedral Squirrel Monkey chose a border rope to take a seat on. If I could have seen the thought pass in the space between her ears I may have had the available split second to prevent the accident, but my mind was not within those borders at the moment of her decision. The second her feet left the floor her butt slipped off, feet flew into air, and her head cracked itself not on the stone floor but upon the edge of one of the centuries worn stone steps to the altar. By the sound that it made I knew we were in for a howler and by the time I could get her up in my arms the screams were echoing off the walls and between the rafters of the ancient church. I knew her daddy could not miss the call where ever in the church he may be, but I sent my eldest off to guide him to the correct source of the reverberating din. You know you've been through this scenario one too many times when you can go through the list of tests, signs, and symptoms with the speed and accuracy of an emergency room nurse. She had an instant hematoma, but it was soft, which is actually a good sign. You'd think soft should be bad, right? I imagine my finger pressing into a hole in the skull, but in reality if there were a leakage from a break in the skull the hematoma would be firm and would steadily grow. She had a headache for the rest of the day, but it got better as the day went on and soon the only reminder of her fall was hidden under her hair and only mentioned when it was time to brush her hair or she received a bump in the wrong location. I do not need to tell you that she was not a happy camper for at least a couple hours regardless.

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Day Ten: Our Own "Terminal"

Mission:

• Catch the plane to Paris
• Drive to Reims in time for our 3:30pm winery tour

The morning was spent packing what remained of our laundered and folded clothing and cleaning the apartment for inspection. Our bags must be packed and ready to be stacked into the taxis when they arrived which would closely correspond with the inspection. As it would happen both the taxi's and the inspector would arrive at the same time, early, just before we had every suitcase zipped and the counters wiped down. And just as we're about to walk out the door what would happen but one of us would not be able to find a passport. What is it with the passports wandering away without us on this vacation anyway? What could have been an easy and relaxing departure when true to tradition, the whole family running around like chickens with their heads cut off chasing after the children, the trail of run away belongings, and riffling through the recently packed bags.

Eventually we made it to the airport and this time, without the worry of parking spaces, we got to the checkout counter and terminal on time only to find out . . . the flight departure was delayed. Or was it delayed? How did we all misread the depart time on our schedule? We not only got their early, but now we found ourselves stuck in an airport for several hours and running late for our appointment in France. Hungry, we all found a cafe and seated ourselves in front of a tv showing cartoons. Once we'd eaten each set off in one direction or another to stretch their legs while a few took shifts with the children who were glued to the tube. We found the souvenir items we'd wanted to buy along the way, or actually we got the cheap, but pricey, airport items instead. I found a new pair of cloths for Screech Monkey as she had completely soiled what she was wearing already and was quite proud of myself for finding a dress for only 2 euros.

Upon discovering our fate at the airport we had to call ahead to the Pommery House to reschedule our tour. The only available opening left was for the next day at 2pm. This was about the time we'd wanted to get to Heidelberg, Germany, but we settled for the change in plans like we've done with all the past rearrangements. Now we were forced to do nothing but wait for a plane to escort us back to Paris where our Tour Bus waited for us at the end of the mile-long parking ramp. The flight was uneventful and once we got on the road out of Paris towards Reims everybody was feeling relaxed and settled in for a non-adventurous day.

There really is nothing to say for the day. I am not sure why I am even writing about this day except to say we made it to Reims where terrible service awaited us at the hotel. When I'd reserved two of their largest rooms, each with one cot for the girls, we were given keys to very small and dirty carpeted rooms with fold-up baby cribs in each. After arguing with the front desk for better accommodations and different room keys we determined for ourselves that they had actually set us up with the best they had to offer. The girls pretended to be baby's for the night and we were grateful they could still fit in the overlong European baby cribs. We were also thankful we could fit all three of the cribs side by side in the larger of the rooms with enough space for our bags and a couple places to step in between to reach the bed ourselves.

True to French courtesy, their service in the hotel restaurant was atrocious. We had to ask for plates for our bread, utensils to eat with, and it seemed the waitresses avoided our table at all costs and if they couldn't fake missing our waves would come to the table barely managing to mask their sneer. The food was great, but the service ruined the entire experience for me. As soon as the children were done I left with them like a nanny to tuck them in bed while the rest of the adults enjoyed the quiet room we left behind. I completely enjoyed those free moments alone with my children while they got ready for bed. We told stories and sang songs and I found myself drifting off to sleep on the bed while their own eyelids fluttered shut in the baby cribs in the corner. The rest of our party aroused me from my dreams to plan another night with wine and cheese and talk in the other hotel room, but I had to be the party-pooper and decline. I could tell it was a disappointment to the adults who had just had a good adult time together down in the emptying restaurant, but I just couldn't do it. Sleep was calling to me.

W.C. Report:

The bathroom in the hotel was so small you could barely sit on the toilet and close or open the door at the same time. At least there was a bathtub, but I dared not use it for the kids. I had heard that the French hotels are notoriously bad, but when I had reserved this one the English had said it was much better than others they had stayed in so I thought we'd find comfort and cleanliness at least. I will be better prepared the next time we hunt for a French hotel.

Tragedy Report:

We made sure we got all of the littlest members of our troop off the plane this time, so there is no tragedy to report today.

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Day Nine: The Final Full Day in Barcelona, Spain

Mission:

• Hit the Beach
• Make it to Parc Guell
• We have to see Sagrada Familia
• Do we get a night out?

We had luck today; the God's decided they had given Barcelona its yearly allotment of rain and so we were allowed to venture onto the beach for a soak in it's lovely blue waters and warm sun. We were early enough to pick out a pretty spot and pull up a few chairs under one of the umbrellas (20 euros, so you'd better enjoy them). The beach was not a shallow and gradual beach like some, but a little steep with a drop-off just a few steps from the waters edge so keeping a close eye on the younger ones became even more vigilent. They had great fun in the sand and water though and kept themselves busy in the waves. Eventually we blew up the floats and pulled them away from the sand for a while. The older two could stay afloat in the salty water reasonably well and enjoyed "swimming" between mom and dad. Even mom and dad had an easy time staying afloat and after we swam far enough out not to be able to touch enjoyed a good half hour treading water without the kids. It was the first time we were awake enough and alone enough to actually catch up on each other during the trip. Oh, rubbish, the first time in months.

We overstayed our visit on the beach and left mid-afternoon with red marks across our bodies and an appetite. We were planning a visit to Parc Guell and Sagrada Familia and both of them being a distance from the city center we had to plan our route. The park has given its fair share of tourists a sporting chase so we double checked the bus numbers and street names. Lo and behold we hopped on the right bus, just heading the wrong direction. No biggy, we just got to see the other side of Barcelona before backtracking again. Once we had arrived at the park the sun was on it's last rays so we walked the winding paths and with a brisk step in order to see all that it had to offer. Dinner was on high demand and there were signs leading us to a restaurant, but following them as best we could, we never ran across a single one. Instead we enjoyed what we could of the unique Gaudi design, took lots of photos (including one which I had , and once the sun was down wandered down the long hill towards the nearest metro stop. We past so many shops with great looking gifts, but each one yelled at us that they were closing the minute we tried to step over the threshold. Okay, so we weren't meant to bring home souvenirs for anybody.

Still we were starving! We were at one of those awkward moments again when everybody wants to make a decision, but nobody actually wants to follow through. Ah, the joys of traveling in a foreign country on an empty stomach in a state of serious lack of sleep. We convinced ourselves to follow the metro line back down towards the center of town where there was an abundance of restaurants on La Rambla, skipping the famous Gaudi church. Sure, we'd end up eating at some touristy place most likely, but at least it wouldn't be a pizza shop. Fearless Leader led us over to what looked like at decent looking place serving a variety of tapas and sidewalk seating. After the trip through the steamy and hot metro tunnels we were ready for some fresh air. There was no seating left for 7 of us on the sidewalk, but when I looked up and saw a dreamy looking view from the second level Fearless Leader convinced them to let us up. It was a glorious restaurant with top notch service. The kids were doing well on very little food and actually let us eat our meal without too much interruption and the food was amazing. I don't care if they cater more towards the tourists, it was amazing. They served me a fish with it's head still on. Coming from a state that pulls a fish straight out of the river, puts it on the stick still wiggling, and cooks it over the fire for dinner, I wasn't too shocked, but the waiter politely cut the head off for me after he placed the plate in front of me. He really was the nicest guy. I don't know if all the tales he told were true, but he sure was fun to listen to nonetheless.

We eventually made it out the door and walked back to the stuffy metro line to catch our ride home. The girls were now exhausted and so were we. The late nights were finally catching up on us and everybody was talking of bed. Once into the apartment our first mission was to get the girls into their pj's and tucked under the sheets, which Grammy and Daddy seemed to have well under control. Pa slipped into their bedroom and I slipped back out the front door. I needed some alone time. Tensions tend to start running high during "vacations". I know they're meant to relax you, but there are moments when trying to fit that part of the equation in can create more nerve racking then you'd experience on a normal day. I wish I could say I'm the type of person who lets things roll away like water off a ducks back, but for some reason those genes evaded my pool. Instead I let the steam build up like a boulder atop a volcano and if I don't let that steam out when and where it's appropriate it tends to make a big fuss at just the wrong moments in ones life. So, to the beach I wandered in the late summer evening.

This part of town was quiet and the only cars on the road were lines of taxis or an occasional police car. The lights were still switching their signals, but there was rarely a car to respond. When I got to the beach it was cold and dark. There was a group of people using the patio tables and chairs of a closed snack bar, but their din was distant compared to the rhythmic sound of waves upon sand. I sat on the beach and watched the lights of boats out at sea blink and cross the horizon and demanded of myself some time to consider all those scrambling thoughts which bounced around my mind. The last year has been a whirlwind and the emotions and thoughts which were caught in it haven't seem to have settled back to their normal pace yet. There have been decisions I've made and actions I've taken which would have led to other outcomes if I'd made one small step in the other direction. I allowed myself to consider what life I would have been leading if I'd taken those missed steps and compared the two versions. It's easy to see the road not taken lined with roses and dappled with sunlight, but in the end you have to find those patches of sun and sweet fragrances along the path you're walking and realize the correct choice is to keep walking and plant the seeds or clear the weeds along the way. I laid on the sand and looked at the stars long enough to empty my mind of the most confusing thoughts to the point that I could actually take in my surroundings with a clarity I had not experienced for what seemed a decade. The majestic view of the heavens was expansive, the sound of the ocean surrounded my body and yet lay inches from my feet, and the coolness of the sand I lay in soaked into my senses which were no longer too crowded to acknowledge another intrusion of sense. When I'd spent enough time in the forgotten sense of peace and pressed past it's uncomfortableness long enough to enjoy it, I picked myself up, said farewell to the sea, and walked the deserted streets back to the apartment. My husband had known I was leaving and had spent some reflective moments himself out on the balcony; we must have both had the same amount of chaos to sift through as we each entered the apartment from opposite doors at the same time. Did I want to tell him about all the thoughts I had sorted through? No, I would sleep in peace tonight.

W.C. Report:

Don't they believe in toilet paper? It seems every toilet we found didn't have toilet paper and no way of even paying for a square or two. In the park the toilets were stalls built into the side of a cave. The toilets were backed up probably by the various items used in place of toilet paper and the trash bins in the stalls were overflowing with the same. We were thankful for the few kleenex tissues we had on us. If ever traveling in Spain be sure to bring a roll of toilet paper with you.

Tragedy Report:

While on the beach we were running between the towels and sun bathers over the sand and just as we got close to the water Squirrel Monkey yelled out in pain and grabbed her foot. I was tempted to believe it was probably nothing and gave her a little tug to encourage her to pull out of it and jump in the waves with me, but she refused to budge. Dreading the worst I dropped down beside her and lifted her foot for inspection. The poor child was bleeding from two gaping cuts on the sole of her foot and she was letting the whole stretch of beach know about it too. There was sand mixed with blood and I knew it would need to be cleaned before we would know the whole extent of injuries so I handed her off to dad and returned to the scene to inspect what could have caused the injury. It was a well worn path towards the water and nothing visibly poked it's sharp head out of the sand, so I began running my hand over her trail. Just below the surface of the sand was a small block of worn wood with two rusty nails pointed up towards whoever was unfortunate enough to step on their hidden points. I was thankful I went back and found them, but sad it had to be our child who had to suffer their surprise attack. She complained after a long days walk on the foot and by the time we laid them down for bed the soars were red and swollen. Fortunately we had a nurse along who carries a bag full of goodies just for these sort of occasions and her wounds were properly attended to along with the knowledge we keep our children's vaccinations up to date.

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