The Events of Tuesday, March 8, 2011

                After a great debate about which time zone’s midnight to observe in deciding when Mom’s blogging day was over and mine began, we decided that it was just be easier if I covered everything after take-off from Phoenix. Mom doesn’t love flying as much as I do, anyway, so it worked out well. So far, all we’ve done on “my day” was the take-off from Phoenix. As we are flying via British Airways to London, and then on to Geneva, to begin our exploration of Europe, all the crew members on board the plane and even some in the airport have darling British accents and proper manners.

                Settling our bags and ourselves, we enjoyed all the safety procedures and then prepared for lift-off. As we flew away from Phoenix, the lights of the city glowed below, wishing us safe travels and bidding us farewell. This is a different sort of farewell, of course, because it is my and my siblings’ first time overseas, our first time in a foreign country that speaks a foreign language, our first time off the continent of North American, our first time outside of the Western Hemisphere. It will be a day of momentous milestones for all of us kids. Of course, Mom and Dad have already been to Europe and have therefore already accomplished all of the above. But this does not dampen our spirits one bit!

                During our flight, the flight attendants came by many times with new and delicious refreshments. First, we enjoyed beverages – water, juice, ginger ale, and adult beverages. Next came dinner, a full three-course meal of a salad, a choice of vegetarian or meat entrée, and a frozen custard treat for dessert. This was surprising and a bit strenuous for our tummies, as we had just had a small, but satisfying pizza dinner at the Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport. After dinner, it was lights out. I’d forgotten how hard it was to sleep in an airplane. Even though the lights were out, even though we had neck rests, eyeshades and slipper socks from our grandma, even though we had our choice of cool air conditioning or warm blankets, sleeping was difficult. It was difficult to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but also one that wouldn’t make your bum go numb. We all eventually fell into exhausted sleep for a short while. Mom caringly rehydrated all of us when she woke up, whether we were awake or not. She brought moist paper towels and little itty bitty cups full of water. When I told her I was too exhausted to sleep, she permitted me to listen to music from the airplane entertainment system.

                This entertainment system I speak of is high-class. It has TV, movies, and music, as well as a touch screen and a navigable system. The screen most often displays a moving map of the plane’s progress, along with information about our altitude, speed, tail wind, the temperature outside the plane, how much travel time we have left, what time it is in the time zone of our arrival, and what time we are projected to arrive. In addition, it takes customer satisfaction surveys, gives advice about well-being, presents facts about the food offered on the plane, and even offers tips on how to exercise and stretch while on the plane. After listening to jazz, and then classical music for awhile, I finally found a kiddie lullaby station, and I was out like a light at the end of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”. OK, so I’m sixteen, but I don’t act it, especially when I’m tired.

                As we flew from Phoenix to London over the Atlantic Ocean, our pilots took us northward, over North Dakota, through the Hudson Bay, over Iceland, and then southward over the British Isles. When the cabin crew turned on the overhead lights, we were just approaching North Ireland, and it was time for breakfast. This meal consisted of a strawberry-flavored yogurt drink, a banana nut muffin, a breakfast nugget (which looked appetizing to no one), and our choice of coffee, tea, juice or water. Oh, and a mint? How many of you get to eat mints with your breakfast?!? Quite an extraordinary breakfast, indeed!

                Soon after breakfast, we landed in London Heathrow International Airport, about half an hour later than we expected to arrive. However, we did not realize this fact until after we had dawdled in the restroom for awhile. The restrooms in the airport were bluntly labeled Toilets, and naïve little me thought that would be the only difference between American restrooms and English toilets. Other than the name, the doors are large and wooden, the locks swing in a circle, instead of just sliding across in a straight line, the toilet paper comes one piece at a time, like Kleenex, the toilets are incredibly low to the ground and small and square. The flusher is a black button on the wall that one does not push, but simply touches to flush. Furthermore, the automatic sinks deliver boiling hot water, with no method of adjusting the temperature, and the hand dryers are a hole in the wall with air blowing at your hands from above and the water blown off your hands to the metal shelf below.

                After a relaxing exploration of the London “toilets”, Dad informed us of the outcome of our late arrival, and we rushed from Terminal 5A to Terminal 5B via escalators and an underground transportation system. Because we switched terminals, we had to go through security again, but, as we were supposed to be boarding our plane, Mom fast-talked us through to the shortest line. Her incredible organizational skills also got us through in a jiffy, and we were on our way to the gate. We practically ran all the way there, through this amazingly annoyingly long building, past duty-free shops galore, and we made it! This plane was much shorter and smaller than the previous plane, and most of the overhead compartments were already full above our assigned seats, so we stuffed our carry-on suitcases in the overhead compartments closer to the front. This plane ride was much shorter too, so the refreshments consisted only of a beverage and a choice of “sweet or savory”. The “sweet” was two Viennese fingers with real chocolate filling, and the “savory” was a bag of miniature crackers that tasted somewhat like Ritz crackers.

                No sooner had we finished that snack than the pilot asked the flight attendants to take their seats and prepare for landing. Shortly after, we arrived in Geneva, Switzerland, only to find that there were no escalators, just stairs. Following wordless, colorful, misleading picture signs, we received our first country stamp in our passports, from Switzerland. However, we needed to exit the airport on the French side of Geneva, known as “Genève” by the French. So we found the French exit, without much difficulty, and decided that we should use the restrooms before leaving. These restrooms were also different, but I will save you the agony of knowing each and every detail. The key feature in these restrooms, however, was a funky cloth towel roll for hand-drying. Pushing a red bar shoots out more of the roll, but it is not to be ripped off and thrown away, but instead to be rolled back away inside the machine. While Ben observed someone else using this contraption and was therefore able to mimic his technique, we girls had no guidance. I just dried my hands on my pants instead.

                After that odd adventure, we managed to get lost in the airport yet again. So Dad found his way back and called the car company, who told him that they would meet us with a shuttle big enough for all six of us and our luggage by the taxi pick-up place. After a short wait by the taxi sign, we rode in the car rental company’s shuttle to a hotel with two French men who spoke relatively good English, enough to get by, but still sometimes a challenge to understand. Once in the hotel parking lot, we met our new car, a black Renault Espace, very pretty, with lots of new-fangled features. While one French gentleman introduced Daddy to the prominent features of the car, the other helped us by removing what we would not need: the seventh seat and a protection screen from the trunk. Next, saying, “Leetle deesle go loooooong way,” he showed Mom the gas inlet, which only needs the push of a finger to open.

                A Tom-Tom GPS was included with the rental car, and it kindly and efficiently led us to a gas station, then to our hotel in Annecy, France. After a while, we figured out the European round-about, but it was still pretty scary driving in the dark in a strange car in an unfamiliar place with signs in foreign languages. Eventually, we arrived at our hotel, but we got lost looking for a parking spot nearby. By the time we’d found our way back, providentially, we found a parking spot right out in front of the hotel.

                Daddy went in, got our keys and learned that our room was on the top floor, and there were no elevators. As a result, we carried nine suitcases of varying sizes and six backpacks up five flights of stairs to our hotel room for the night.  It was a nice room with simple, no-nonsense features, nothing fancy. The color scheme was white, tan, and brown, with abstract accent paintings on the walls.

                Upon entering the room, there was one door to the left and one door to the right. The door to the left led to what became the kids’ bedroom and bathroom for the night, with a wooden table, two white plastic chairs and a cushioned stool, a twin bed, with a twin trundle bed beneath it, and two twin mattresses pushed together to make a king bed. The bedding consisted of a white fitted sheet, a brown coverlet over a comforter, and white shams on the pillows. The closet has two sides, one side full of shelves, the other a few shelves and then a hanging area. In the bathroom are a very clean, white shower, a low, square toilet, a towel warmer (a white towel rack with temperature adjusters), a small amount of counter space, a small sink, and a big mirror to give the impression of being a larger space. Back in the front hallway, through the door on the right is what became the parents’ bathroom and bedroom for the night. The bathroom and closet and furniture were virtually the same, only with fewer beds. The parents’ bedroom had only the two twin mattresses pushed together to make a king bed.

                Shortly after our arrival with our entire family’s luggage, we sat down to a dinner of squished, slimy, smelly PB&J sandwiches, carrots, and tap water. For dessert, Mom shared her highly coveted Thin Mints. After we’d eaten dinner, Mom directed us in shuffling our belongings around in the various suitcases and bags, while Lindsey and Dad showered in our two separate showers in our two separate bathrooms. Gladly, we prepared for bed and collapsed into our comfortable twin beds of varying configurations.