The Events of Friday, April 1, 2011

                I have developed a rather funny habit on the Europe part of this trip. Out of the blue I will say to one of the members of my family, “Guess what I’m looking forward to?” They usually either look really annoyed or try to guess. What it turns out to be is usually Prague, where we are going to rent a nice cottage that comes with bikes, and I love biking. Or sometimes it is Dallas or the flight home. On the way home we are going to the Heathrow airport and then to the Dallas airport, where we have a rather long layover. Mom said that she and Dad would sleep while we watch over the luggage and use the internet. For some reason this really excites me. Maybe this is because we haven’t had internet for a while and I am always eager to get back on email. But this morning was different. This morning what I was looking forward to is something that is happening in exactly 12 days – my birthday! When my eyes had adjusted to the early morning light this morning, I looked at my watch and was thrilled to see that it was April 1st. I figured out that there are exactly 12 days until my 12th birthday, which is on April 13th! Later in the day Dad would ask Lindsey how to say twelve in French and she would reply, “Douze” (donzay). Ben would figure out that it is douze days until I turn douze. He thinks it sound like dunce. Thus, I am turning into a dunce in twelve days.

                I slowly made my bed (it was pretty easy because the French only sleep with a comforter-like thing) and climbed down the ladder from the loft bed. Everyone else was bustling about, getting changed, packing up, and preparing breakfast. Soon I joined the rhythm and by nine o’clock we were on our way to Pont du Gard, the famous Roman aqueduct bridge built with absolutely no mortar. On the way we listened to Rick Steves’ “A Week in Provence” radio podcast. When we finally arrived it was already 11 o’clock.

                We headed into the museum and the restrooms. As we entered the museum it took a while for our eyes to adjust. For some reason it was very dark. We walked past video screens showing rushing water and started our tour of the museum. Basically, it explained to us what the Romans in Nimes used water for and why they needed an aqueduct. Then we were shown about the construction and then the completion and what happened to the aqueduct bridge from Roman times up to present times.

                At twelve o’clock we exited the museum, even though we weren’t finished, to go see the movie about Pont du Guard in English, which, although informative, was rather mushy and silly. Mom said it was like no national park film she had ever seen, then again, we weren’t in an American National Park. After leaving the theater we sent Dad and Ben to get the lunch from the car. Carrying the lunch with us, we walked to the Pont du Gard and searched for a good picnic spot. Finally we found a shady, rocky stretch of land right near the entrance of the bridge. We had a fun lunch with bread, cheese, meat, carrots and crumbs of cookies for dessert. That might seem simple, but no cheese or meat in France is unremarkable.

                After lunch we went back to the museum and finished up, hurrying back to our car so that we could make it to Spain before dinner time. For the next few hours we drove to España, which is more commonly known as Spain. We crossed the border and continued on, all the way to Badalona, a small town outside of Barcelona. On the way we listened to Rick Steves’ radio podcast of Spanish Cuisine and his Introduction to Spain. Around 6 pm we arrived in Badalona.

                My initial impression of Badalona was that it was not the suburb I had imagined, but a city, full of tall apartment buildings and a nice riverfront park. We found our apartment, but we couldn’t find any parking near it so we went around the block and parked on a roundabout. Then we sent Daddy and Caitlin to explore. They found our apartment and even saw the door but there was no one inside. They found a parking spot right in front of the apartment, so that problem was taken care of – until we found out that it was too short for our car. So Mom drove around while Dad called our landlord. While driving up a skinny, steep street, Mom noticed a young lady loading up her groceries. Through sign language we found out that she was leaving. Slowly, stressfully, and ever so carefully we squeezed into the space with just enough room to open the trunk. We ferried our suitcases to the bottom of the hill and then into the lobby and up to outside our room. Soon our landlady arrived and opened up the apartment for us.

                If you think that everyone in Spain speaks Spanish, you’re wrong. Spain has at least four different languages, and the name of the language in this region is Catalán. Daddy is fluent in Spanish, but not in Catalán, so we had a bit of difficulty communicating. The apartment owner knew some Spanish, so that was helpful, but she thought that we all spoke Spanish and would talk for about a minute in non-stop Spanish until she remembered that we didn’t know Spanish. Sometime later, her son arrived and he knew Spanish and a little bit of English, so together they communicated the necessary information to Dad, and he would translate to us. In school, Caitlin has taken Spanish I and II. During that time I shared a room with her. She would practice her Spanish with me and teach me some Spanish and talk in Spanish until I knew a good amount of Spanish. Using this Spanish, I managed to understand our hosts say “caliente”, “aqua”, “mañana”, and a few other words. I found this really fun and tried my best to communicate, but it was rather difficult. At last they left and we moved in.

                By 8pm we were finally getting dinner ready, so it was a late night. After dinner, we attempted to make our beds. All the sheets were in a big pile and it took a bit of sorting to find fitted sheets and flat sheets for all the beds. We have six beds, and that is good, because the double bed that Mom and Dad were to share was so small that it would only fit one person. All the beds were short and the bunk bed was very rickety and creaky. Finally we were able to sort everything and it was all okay… except for the blankets. Do you know that oily, itchy texture of lotion and the disgusting feel of vomit? Combine those together and spread them on a blanket, and you will get what our blankets felt like. Even as I write I’m shuddering just thinking about this. My family thinks I’m extremely tactile defensive. I finally found a blanket that wasn’t so bad and made my bed with that. As I climbed into my extremely creaky bed, I thought of how excited I was about what was going to happen tomorrow and my shudders disappeared. I eventually went to sleep in my extremely creaky bed.