Lucca and Pisa

On our way to Pisa, we stopped in the adorable little town of Lucca. One of the few cities in Italy that still has its Renaissance-era walls.


We spent about an hour just wandering through the Old City, with its narrow streets and gorgeous 14th century buildings.

The city also has one of the few remaining intact Roman forums (think Gladiator flights) which is now an open air market on the weekends.

(It is difficult to see in this picture but the kids are in the center of the Forum, with curved buildings behind them. Hard to believe that they are on the sight of countless slaughters.)

But the main destination of the day was Pisa, of course to see the Leaning Tower.


Pisa was not what I expected at all. From all the pictures I had seen of the Tower I imagined the Tower in a little farm town where the Tower was the only thing of significance near by. I did not expect Pisa to include two other gorgeous buildings.


Nor did I expect the THRONGS of people. It was a madhouse, with tourists everywhere and souvenir booths selling everything from plastic Leaning Towers to Duff Beer shirts (who goes to Pisa to buy Simpson's paraphernalia?) I really feel sorry for anyone who actually lives in that town, though I am sure that the residents stay far away from the Main Square at all times.

I am glad I saw it, a bucket list sort of day but I really have no desire to go back to Pisa.

Barcelona - One Last Note

The jet lag mind forgot one thing....

Of all the wonderful things we saw in Barcelona, what did my son like best about the city?? Using the bidet in the bathroom. That's a 6 year old boy for you.

Barcelona

Ahhh, Barcelona.

I fell in love with Barcelona 15 years ago, the last time I was there. It is an amazing city, with such a vibrant culture and feel. We took our first day to work out jet lag kinks, spend some time relaxing in the Mediterranean and just walking through the city.


Here we met a fish monger hawking some AMAZING looking seafood. Unfortunately we found him right after finishing up dinner. Raif was not happy about that. Note the octopus on the left side of the cart.


The next day we spent touring the works of one of Barcelona's most famous residents, Antonio Gaudi.

For those who don't know, Gaudi is considered one of the most unique architects of the early 20th century. If Tim Burton was an architect, he would be Gaudi. Gaudi's work, to me, has a whimsical fantasy style - something that kids would dream up, not a grown up. He never used a straight line and took his inspiration from all things natural. What I love is that you can walk down a city street in Barcelona surrounded by what you would consider normal buildings and out of nowhere pops out one of Gaudi's work, like a fish out of water.


We visited two of his most famous sites - Park Guell and La Sagrada Familia.

Park Guell was Gaudi's vision for city life combined with nature. A housing development surrounding a common park. Most of the park was completed before his death (he was run over by a bus - ouch) but the housing was never finished and today it is just an amazing park on the outskirts of the city.(Entrance to the Park)


La Sagrada Familia is Gaudi's most recognizable work. Like Park Guell it was unfinished at the time of Gaudi's death but unlike Park Guell it is still unfinished (Gaudi died in 1926). Since his death there have been 4 architects working continuously on the church, keeping in part with Gaudi's vision but adding there own flavor. They told us that the church should be done in 2026 - one hundred years after Gaudi's death.

(The original spires constructed by Gaudi)

(The obvious change in style from one architect to another)

(Top of one set of spires. Nothing says Jesus like fruit)

(The outside of one of the facades. Each facade is suppose to represent a different aspect of Jesus's life from birth, death, to resurrection. This side is the resurrection - note Jesus just hanging out in the middle of the columns. I don't know why I find this so amusing, I guess I never really pictured Jesus as a kicking back and hanging out kind of guy)

(Pic from inside the church. Not the best to show the architecture but I like it because it looks like Greyson has a halo)

Day (or two) from Hell

The itineray was suppose to go like this.....

Leave Nashville and fly to Philadelphia, nice but not too long of a layover in Philly and then straight on to Barcelona. This is how it actually went...

We had a 2 o'clock flight to Philly and around 10:30 or so the dogs were safely at the kennel and the car was packed. We were killing time in the house waiting to leave. The kids kept asking and asking when we were going to leave and I will admit I wanted to get on the road too since that meant we were officially starting our vacation. So Raif and I talked it over and thought we might as well just get going. We could have a nice leisurely lunch at the airport and let the kids run themselves ragged at the little play area. My wise friend Cindy always advised me to get there early and run the kids into the ground before getting on a really long flight and so we took her advice (which as you will see saved us, though not in the way it was intended).

We got to the airport, checked in and found our gate by the time 12:15 rolled around. We were walking to the airport O'Charley's when I heard something in the airport that I have never heard before...

"Will the Erim and Parsons families please go to Gate 63 IMMEDIATELY for some urgent information regarding your trip to Barcelona."

Oh. Fuck.

So we high tail it to Gate 63 where the lady behind the desk kindly informed us that due to mechanical problems the flight from Nashville to Philly was CANCELLED. They were rerouting us from Nashville to Charlotte from Charlotte to Philly to catch our flight to Barcelona. Oh and by the way the flight was leaving at 12:30 - they were in final boarding as she spoke to us. No time for lunch, no time for a snack, no time to get anything except on to the plane. Then she handed us our 6 boarding passes. All middle seats, all randomly scattered through the plane. Not going to work with a 4 year old and a 5 year old so she spent the next 10 minutes trying to remedy that situation. Thankfully there were a couple late check-ins that she was able to boot out of their seats and so at least we got to sit next to the kids and my parents got the random middle seats.

I also might have forgotten to mention we had only 30 minute layovers in Charlotte and Philadelphia.

We got to Charlotte with 20 minutes to spare - enough time for me to run and get some stale and tasteless bagel sandwiches to eat on the plane at the nearest food kiosk while Raif went to haggle with another airline attendant about how we couldn't take 6 middle seats again.

We were once again the last people on the plane and we nervously watched the clock as we pulled out onto the tarmac and stopped.

"Good afternoon everyone, this is the Captain here. We have a little traffic jam ahead of us. We are 10th in line for departure and our usual 20 minute taxi time has probably been stretched into 40 minutes. So sit back we will be in line for awhile."

Hmmm, 30 minute layover, 20 minute (minimum) delay. Another. Fuck.

And so for the next hour and a half, I probably asked Raif a million times what time it was and when our flight was leaving. As we started our descent into Philly I went to talk to the helpful (note the sarcasm here) flight attendants. Surely, I asked, they would hold an international flight for people who are 10 minutes late? That depends, they said. Sometimes they held flights, sometimes they didn't and they saw no rhyme or reason as to when they did or didn't. Surely, you could call ahead for us,tell them we are coming. Yeah, they don't do that. Surely, there was something they could do. Well, they had one seat up near the front of the plane, someone in our party could take that seat which would shave a couple minutes off the time getting off the plane and then they advised us to run like hell. What were our chances, I asked. They said a little under 50/50.

Sweet.

So Raif took the middle seat and the wheels touched the tarmac 10 minutes before our Barcelona flight was suppose to leave. Every time the plane stopped as it approached the airport my stomach lurched. The moment that door opened Raif was out of that plane like a bat out of hell. The kids, grandparents and I soon followed reliving the airport scene in "Home Alone" where this mass of kids, adults and bags were dashing through the airport, but we made it (much to the chagrin of the woman who assumed that our six seats were empty and had already appropriated them as her own personal bed on the plane), but just barely. We weren't even in our seats when they shut the door and were already talking the "crosscheck" jargon before we had stowed our bags.

Oh yes, the bags.

As you can imagine, while we were in an obvious hurry to get on the plane, the baggage handlers felt no such urgency. When we arrived in Barcelona I gave them a 20% shot, if that of making it. My husband was more optimistic and even as the overhead sign clearly indicated that the last bag from Philly had been put on the carousel he continued to watch, I think attempting to use the Jedi mind trick to will them across the pond. But at last even he finally realized that they just weren't there.

It is one thing to lose your luggage but it is quite another to lose them in another country where the woman in charge of finding them doesn't have a firm grasp on your language or you on hers. So we sat for almost an hour as she did paperwork and tried her best to communicate with us. There was only one flight a day from Philly to Barcelona and she assured us that we would have our bags at the same time the next day and so we headed to our hotel a little lighter than we planned.

Luckily I had packed the kids bathing suits in my carry on so we let them play in the Mediterranean while we made sure that we stayed upwind of each other to avoid the stench we seemed to have gathered over the last 15 hours of travel.

Before we went to bed, my husband had the brilliant idea of hand washing all of our clothes in the sink so the next day (we weren't expecting our bags until around 11) we would be slightly less caustic. The clothes were indeed fresher the next morning but also still soaking wet. So for the next hour or so, Raif in our room and I in my parents, used the two weakest hair dryers in existence to dry our clothes by hand. After an eternity and still only having dried the kids clothes I gave up, said fuck it and put on my wet clothes. (And I will leave it to your imagination of what we looked like while drying all these clothes).

But our story does have a happy ending. The clothes did indeed arrive on the next flight and we boarded our ship fully outfitted and ready for our adventure.

Miss Me?

I thought you did.

As most of you know, we just spent the last 2 1/2 weeks toodling around the Mediterranean and at $1/minute for internet access I thought I would wait until we got home to blog about our European adventure. So for the next however many days you will be treated to our travel journal, which honestly is more for me to remember our journey than anything else. But feel free to skim the text, look at the pics or if you are up with insomnia or nursing a baby you can read it in all of it's glory....though I do suggest that you read the next entry, how we got over there as it was quite an adventure. Anyway, here we go....

Science with Daddy

Who doesn't love a volcano?

Certainly not anyone under the age of 10. The kids and Raif made their very own volcano from a handy kit I found at Michael's. They mixed the plaster of paris.


Waited ever so patiently for it to dry. (Seriously, I think I was asked a thousand times "Is it dry yet?")

And then took it outside to watch the massive eruption.


OK, massive is a bit of an understatement. Raif and I were actually pretty disappointed at the paltry little stream of pink water that trickled out of the top but if my children's reactions were a decent gauge we were the only ones. They whooped and hollered and laughed and begged to do it again and again as if they were watching Mt. Vesuvius itself. So I think I will call it a success.

Worn Out

4th of July traditionally marks the halfway point of summer, and let me tell you; I am tired. Between art camp, basketball camp, swimming lessons, picnics, sleepovers and various summer celebrations this summer has flown by and left me with a chronic case of exhaustion. Whoever coined the phrase 'lazy days of summer' clearly did not have children. We are taking it easy this week and gearing up for our grand summer adventure, starting soon, but everyone around here is worn out.....


School can't start soon enough...I need some rest.

Independence

Well yesterday was Independence Day but for me it seems this season has turned into Independence Summer. Over the last six weeks my apron string holding children have not only let go of those strings but have brought out the scissors and cut them off. The rate of their increasing independence astounds me, tickles me and admittedly saddens me. Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying the ability to send them out back while I cook dinner or out front while I pay bills and vacuum the dog hair. I am also quite fond of the ability to sleep in on the weekends as they happily play upstairs by themselves as I get a few extra ZZZZZs. And as they are on the verge of being able to make their own breakfasts now, hell it won't be long until I am sleeping til noon!

But with more freedom for me, which of course I have been wishing for for years, comes a realization of just how fleeting childhood is. As we set up our blankets last night at the fireworks show, I worried about how we were going to entertain them for two pre-show hours. My fears were quickly doused as each one ran a different direction to find a new friend to play catch or tag with. They checked in every now and then for a drink of water or a hug but they were far more interested in playing with their new friend than their old Mom. And I know that before I can blink an eye those hug check-ins will disappear too.

The majority of my closest friends are either newly pregnant, about to burst or dealing with a child under 1. I do not envy those sleepless nights, 2AM feedings or the harrowing experience of potty training. But I do envy that they are at the beginning of a journey where for a brief period of time, they are the center of someone's universe. As for me, I feel like I just got a lesson from Copernicus about where I stand in my kid's universe and it is no longer smack dab in the middle. So here I am, relegated to planet status hoping that I don't go the way of Pluto anytime soon.

Summer Is.....