Some Bad Stuff, for Those Who Love a Good Trainwreck
I’ve promised our friends who are following this blog that I wouldn’t leave out the bad stuff. First, I don’t like to attempt being fake perfect online. Or real perfect in real life. Or any combo of real/fake/online/IRL. I have never understood how that benefits anyone. For the most part, I can find the good in most situations and don’t want to be negative all the time, but that’s different from hiding things that go wrong.
Especially for those friends who I know are reading my updates because they hope to attempt something similar someday with their own kids, I want to set realistic expectations. Traveling like this is hard. We’ve been planning it forprettymuchever and worked a lot to set things up so we could do it, and still we hit bumps in the road all the time. Being able to roll with whatever comes our way is a skill, and we’re pretty good at it overall, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck sometimes.
Yesterday we had to have our zillionth come to Jesus talk with Story about her innate desire to argue with everything we say, regardless of topic or tone.
“That guy over there is good at handstands.”
“Well, so am I!”
“Umm, we weren’t talking about you.”
“The Louvre was cool, but we’re ready to go home now.”
“Not me! I want to stay forever.”
“You love horses.”“I love dogs more!”
“You love dogs.”“But horses are even cooler.”
“There is a building.”
“I wouldn’t really call it a building.”
And I swear to god, this one really happened. (The others aren’t word for word, but are fairly accurate.)
“See here on the map, that country that’s shaped like a boot? That’s Italy.”
“I don’t think it looks like a boot.”
“For fuck’s sake. Everyone in the entire world thinks Italy looks like a boot.”
So yeah, our contrarian can ruin the overall mood of the family with just a few words. It’s a remarkable skill. Even more frustrating (maybe?) is that, while she will always state out loud that she won’t like whatever place or activity we’re about to experience, she is almost always the one who enjoys it the most. This is partly because the experiences are usually good ones (of course) but also because by the time we arrive to our destination, she’s broken our spirits, so we’re grumpy and just trying to make it through. Meanwhile, almost EVERY SINGLE TIME, she’s pleasantly surprised by whatever it is, so she’s having a blast while the rest of us are trying to get over our bad moods she left in her wake. And then fast forward a couple more days, and we overhear her telling her friends on a video call that “Paris was boring” and we die a little inside. Whichever side of an argument suits her best in the moment is the side she takes. How’s that for bad?
Today was much better after yesterday’s talk with her. But then I got hit with Sagan having a rare moment of acting his (teen)age. I was enjoying a chill day at the beach. Story was being awesome, Mike was happy. And then - bam! - Sagan got incredibly snippy with me because when he said he wanted ice cream, I laughed and said that sounded terrible. Sticky, melty, creamy stuff with sand in it just sounded too heavy in the oppressive heat. Maybe a popsicle, though, I said. And I have no idea why this was so offensive to him, but he started telling me how I made desserts less fun for him if I said I don’t like them, and this went on for way too long, and felt suspiciously like it wasn’t really about desserts at all. I’ve been grumpy since it happened. Hence this post, because I can’t go vent in person at a friend’s house. And even calling is no good because the four of us are always within earshot of each other. I can write it all here because even though I’m keeping this blog mostly for my kids to read in the future, I’m sure they’ll never read it.
See? I can be negative. Look at me go! Now that you’ve got me on a roll, I’m not sure when I’ll stop. Enjoy some more random complaints below.
Catching our train from Paris to Toulouse was super stressful. I had it all mapped out, how to get from our home exchange apartment to the train station via Metro. We left the house a little later than we’d wanted to, and then the Metro itself took a little longer than expected. We had to change lines, which wasn’t a big deal, but when you’re trying to figure out which direction to go on an unfamiliar line in a language you don’t speak and the clock is ticking, it’s stressful. Also, the Paris Metro is packed. Not every line, every time of day. But most lines, most of the time. And we were loaded down with all our stuff, so we all learned very quickly to let go of politeness and just cram ourselves into the car with the other sardines. Oh, but that was the less stressful part of that hour. Things got really stressful for a few minutes when the signage pointing to the train station (from the Metro exit) just sort of petered out. We were looking for Montparnasse, and all we could see was something that looked like a mall. When I asked someone for help, they attempted to tell me that I was supposed to be in an entirely different part of Paris. I was on the verge of total panic and finally had to take a breath and trust my instincts that they were wrong. (But years ago, we took a train to the entirely wrong airport in Brussels, so here I was thinking, “Fuck! Did this happen again? Are there two Montparnasses?!) Ultimately, it turned out I did have it right, and the nice people were as confused as we were. We hurried to the train station and found our train platform fairly easily from there.
But then there’s the food thing, which is a constant source of low-to-medium-level stress in the family. Mike wants to eat healthy food all the time, and he’s trying to at least maintain the muscle gains he’s built up the last few months. Sagan is constantly hungry, not picky about food, but would really prefer to mostly eat junk all the time. Story is not extremely picky for a kid her age, but picky enough that she wants to stop at every pasta place we see, because she knows she always loves pasta. I don’t eat meat or fish, which in America really doesn’t affect where we eat at all. But in Europe, meat and fish are the main ingredients of all the local favorites. So, while I’m not picky about much, there are lots of restaurants where there is not a single item on the menu that I will eat. Oh, and I’m trying to lose weight while Mike and Sagan are trying to gain, so this constant hunt for food sources being a group activity most times means that someone is not getting what they want/need. Poor Sagan is the easiest-going, but his food allergies mean that any place with questionable ingredients or communication are out. Nobody in the group is being unreasonable, but we’re a perfect mismatch.
And can we talk about walking down the street? And how for some reason we seem to be incapable of not walking four abreast at all times? I don’t understand why they all want to be next to me at all times! I try to be in front to lead, and suddenly Story’s next to me. So I slow down to let her lead, and she slows down too. Then Sagan comes up to tell me something, and he gets annoyed because Story gets in between him and me. And then Mike is like, what the hell, why am I alone back here? So then he comes up, and we’re taking up the whole damn sidewalk again! I’ve tried being the leader, the follower, physically pushing the kids in various directions…it just keeps happening! It’s doing my head in! Mike has caught on to this, and I think it makes me feel better that it’s bugging him now too. Misery loves company…as long as it’s not walking right next me.
Everybody walk next to Mom!
Ooh, and what about Story’s retainer that got lost at camp, and my sweet friend retrieved it from that camp after we had left the country and went through all the hassle and cost of shipping it to us in Copenhagen? Except for some reason the post office sent it west to California, and then it just disappeared into the ether. But tonight I got a message from our host in Copenhagen that it did finally arrive, weeks late. And there’s no hope of getting it because where could she even ship it to us? And by now I’m sure the thing wouldn’t fit anyway, so I know we need to expect an understandably annoyed orthodontist chastizing us in January.
Also, back home we had our septic system’s alarm going off for weeks, which is always a great thing to be worrying about. And our renter let us know that our internet had become unusable it was so slow, so I had to call fucking COMCAST from Europe and get that fixed. (For the record, I’m not at all annoyed at the renter. He’s awesome and was sweet about all of it.) And I got busted for a heinous crime by the city we live in, because I was “advertising” my house on AirBnB without an active license. I could not get them to explain to me how having a listing with no availability on the calendar, and that is 100% unsearchable and unviewable to the public is considered “advertising.” I spent a week arguing with this horrid woman back home, but ultimately I had to pay the fine because I can’t appeal it in court if I’m on a different continent.
We haven’t had cash in weeks because we don’t have an account with a bank here in Spain, and the currency exchange people want to charge you 22% or more to give you Euros. And tipping is pretty optional here, but when we want to, there’s not really a way to do it with your credit card easily. So we’re pretty sure we’ve looked like assholes at least a few times for not tipping.
I could keep going, but I think you’ve got the gist. The little crap that’s annoying in life doesn’t stop being annoying just because you leave. It still happens, and sometimes it’s far more annoying because you have to deal with it in different ways in multiple languages across time zones without your normal routines. Obviously the pros outweigh the cons, or we wouldn’t be doing this crazy thing. But it’s not all unicorns and rainbows!
