Pushing Pause: Our Day in Oxford, England

The Day Before it all happened: Dave & I at theNational Trust - Middle Littleton Tithe Barn, England
The Day Before it all happened: Dave & I at theNational Trust – Middle Littleton Tithe Barn, England
The boys, The Day Before it all happened: Dave & I at theNational Trust - Middle Littleton Tithe Barn, England (What a difference a day makes)
The boys, The Day Before it all happened: Dave & I at theNational Trust – Middle Littleton Tithe Barn, England (What a difference a day makes)

Salt Lake City, Utah, Monday afternoon, July 10: I sat in my doctor’s office. After waiting for more than an hour, he walked into the room. I could tell he was upset and I knew why. Do not worry. There was no devastating news. He merely wanted to chew me out. I let him. Then I paused.

Here is what happened: Thursday, July 6, I was ready to leave for the hospital — so was Dave.  It was 9AM. The hospital wanted me to arrive at 9:15AM.  Sinus Surgery would start at 11:30AM.  As he sat on the couch waiting, I reviewed the places and times with Dave, like I had done over the last few days.

“You will be done by noon, right? I need to be at work at noon.” He urged.

“Dave, the surgery starts at 11:30AM. I do not know how that is possible.”

As the words left my mouth, Dave started to freak out, so did I. Then memories of the week before flooded my mind.

[Flashback. Several days earlier:]

Us in Oxford, England
Us in Oxford, England
The boys in Oxford, England
The boys in Oxford, England

We were in Oxford, England. Dave, Kyle, Eli and I were sitting in our car ready to leave. Dave was in the driver’s seat. In a panic he started the engine and began to drive. As the car began moving, Kyle abruptly shouted,

“Dad, DAD! Stop the car!”Dave kept driving.

Kyle insisted, “No. really. Dad please stop the car.”Dave slowed down and did not stop.

“What? What do you want, Kyle?” Dave demanded.

As I held my bloodied and swollen hand I said,

“Dave. Please stop the car NOW!”

Oxford, England seconds before I fell.
Oxford, England seconds before I fell.

In the middle of the parking lot, Dave slammed on the breaks. Then I asked Kyle what he wanted to say. Kyle wisely uttered the following:

“Guys. Stop. Look around. Just pause. We need to pause. We need to catch our breath. We need to make sure we are not missing anything.  Think. Are we missing anything? Take a second and pause.” We did. After a moment, Kyle continued, “Not pausing is how we got here.”

He was right. I took a deep breath. We collected ourselves and then Dave drove us to the hospital.

It was Monday, June 26, and we were near the end of our three week UK adventure. The boys were completely over the trip, their parents and each other. Kyle and Eli wanted to be home. I knew they were on their last legs as I gently urged them out of the car. Eli put his shoes on slower than a snail’s pace. Honestly, it was painful. I was fried and didn’t know how much glass-half-full I could muster. As we locked the car, Kyle complained about how boring the day would be. I assured him it might be. Then we worked our way out of the tiny car park, through a long alley and unto the Oxford city streets. We stopped, looked at our online itinerary (I found a last minute walking tour online), and Dave led the way. Now the boys were both complaining and swatting at one another. I raised my eyebrows then offered up a bribe: Anyone who makes it through 60% of the day with a good attitude will get a prize:

“Dudes and I will pay you cash!” I paused then said, “Dave, you can play too!”

Kyle outside the Tower of St. Michael at the Northgate, Oxford, England -- and he is thrilled ;)
Kyle outside the Tower of St. Michael at the Northgate, Oxford, England — and he is thrilled 😉
Dave and the boys in front of Oxford, England's "CLOSED MONDAYs" Ashmolean Museum
Dave and the boys in front of Oxford, England’s “CLOSED MONDAYs” Ashmolean Museum

They boys did not care.  They continued telling me how much the other was annoying them, and when they were not complaining, they were fighting. When they were not fighting,  they were pouting.Dave did not notice. My bribe was lost on the three of them.  Guilt had no effect. No amount of telling them how grateful they should be for their super special and blessed lives  mattered. Each new landmark became a nuisance, and the museum Dave was excited to see was closed. [insert that hands pulling on the face emjoi here]. Do not worry. I became an active participant in our collective doom. But then I had a flash. Money is not working,  how about I bribe the boys with new books?  (Please know I have not bribed the boys since they were like three and in the throes of potty training). Nevertheless, I was desperate. So, with my book bribe uttered, Dave and I took the boys to Oxford’s famous Blackwell’s bookstore. Dave encouraged me to buy a book too. (He is also good at bribing.) I fell for it. I knew what I wanted, yet was not sure where to find it.

“Ask the lady for help.” Dave urged (several times).

I finally did.  

As the words left my mouth, immediately I recognized  the up and down look this young Oxford student was so clearly giving me: contempt. When I asked for books on memoir writing,  she directed me to the “self help” and “bestsellers.” Then she succinctly stated:

 “the academic books are down here. What you want is upstairs.”

That is when our day turned around (sort of).  Kyle witnessed the entire exchange as I said something like,

“You have judged me to be an incompetent, suburban mom, American tourist, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“You are only partially correct.” I responded.

We purchased a copy of "Nudge" at Blackwell's Bookstore in Oxford, England. We left our library copy in our AirBnB in Devon, England (that is another story for another day).
We purchased a copy of Richard Thaler & Cass Sunstein’s, “Nudge” at Blackwell’s Bookstore in Oxford, England. (We left our library copy in our AirBnB in Devon, England — that is another story for another day.)

By his own admission Kyle was totally impressed  with me. From my observation, his elevated mood lasted for like thirty-five seconds. Then he asked if he could go outside to participate in a Pokemon RAID battle. “Whatever it takes to make them happy today” is what I thought.

Moments later we found ourselves standing next to Kyle and like several Oxford college students. One asked me if I would be fighting too.

“No.” I smiled and laughed.

Kyle & Eli standing with a group of dudes (Oxford college students) finishing their Pokemon RAID battle outside of Blackwell's Bookstore, Oxford, England
Kyle & Eli standing with a group of dudes (Oxford college students) finishing their Pokemon RAID battle outside of Blackwell’s Bookstore, Oxford, England
Kyle finishing his Pokemon RAID Battle with Eli and Dave walking ahead to the next "nuisance" landmark, Oxford, England
Kyle finishing his Pokemon RAID Battle with Eli and Dave walking ahead to the next “nuisance” landmark, Oxford, England

The Pokemon RAID battle was complete. Eli had his new Douglas Adams anthology in hand,  and Kyle was carrying a new copy of a book we lost earlier in the trip.  To answer your question: Those books elevated the mood for maybe another two minutes. And yes, it was totally worth it.

Me in Oxford, England
Me in Oxford, England
My team players, Oxford, England
My team players, Oxford, England

We walked. I snapped photos.  I wanted to remember this place I have never seen before.  Eli was also hungry and so was I. And the bitching only escalated. Thank goodness for bright spots in snotty college towns. The folks at Noodle Nation, where we ate some great pan-asian cuisine, were a dream. I highly recommend this restaurant. The food is great and the customer service is warm and friendly.

Noodle Nation, Oxford, England (they offer student discounts, by the way)
Noodle Nation, Oxford, England (they offer student discounts, by the way)

Now fed, the boys could not implore us to leave Oxford fast enough. After buying them some last minute fruit pies (yes, more mood bribes), we found ourselves racing to the car. The parking meter was past due. Dave is 6’2”. Eli is over 6’ and Kyle is just about 6’. I am barely 5’4”. Like I often do, as we left the Oxford indoor Market, I snapped a few more photos. Snapping those photos only put me farther behind. Like Kyle often does, he waited and ran along side me.  I watched as Dave and Eli ran across a street. In full sprint, Kyle and I ran to catch up. With my phone in one hand, I heard the beep, beep of a car horn coming from my left. I turned to looked as my feet kept their pace.

Fruit Pies from Oxford, England's Covered Market
Fruit Pies from Oxford, England’s Covered Market
Oxford, England's Covered Market
Oxford, England’s Covered Market

Before I realized what was happening, my sandal caught the edge of median I had not seen.  I extended my right arm. And as Kyle observed (with full arm motions),

“You dropped hard and then you slid — also hard.”

Even though I could see my pants were not ripped (Props to the durability of the Athleta Trekkie Jogger), I could feel my knees swell and see the blood begin to seep through the fabric.  My right hand was scraped, purple and swollen.  I was mortified as I lay splayed out in the street.

Me wearing the sturdy Athleta Trekkie Jogger the day before in Stratford-upon-Avon, England the day before (the clothes were at the end of the trip too)
Me wearing the sturdy Athleta Trekkie Jogger the day before in Stratford-upon-Avon, England the day before (the clothes were at the end of the trip too)

Kyle ran to my side, helped me up and screamed for Dave.  Within seconds, Dave and Eli were at my side helping me walk. Dave asked me if I wanted to stop.

“Why don’t you sit here for a minute. Let’s make sure you are ok. Really. Beth. Let’s just stop.”

Tears streamed down my face. I was embarrassed. “No. No. Let’s get to the car. I will collect myself there.”

Dave held me up as we quickly walked. The boys were behind us. The crowd was large and moving slow. With each impatient  breath, the crowd only seemed to move slower. Within seconds, I grabbed Dave’s left arm, nudging him a little and said,

“Let’s pass these people. They are moving  way too slow.”

As I pushed on his left side, Dave stepped into the street.

As he stepped, we heard  loud, panicked screams. It was a woman.

“NO! NO! NO!” she cried.

I watched as her bicycle hit the ground as a car swerved to miss her. She kept screaming. I held my hand. The car missed her within inches, continued honking and drove away. The crowd stopped. Now all those slow walking people were screaming too.

“Ma’am, are you ok. Ma’am!” I heard them shout.

Her left pant leg was ripped at the knee. I did not see blood. She was wearing a helmet. Thank God!

“Yes. Yes. I am ok. I am ok. I just need a moment.” She shouted as her tears fell.

People walked her over to the side of the road. Dave gathered her bike from the street. We stood there. We asked. We wanted to know she was ok.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. I am ok. I am just late.” She trailed off.

An older woman in the crowd took over. Within seconds the older woman had the injured biker’s phone and was making calls. And from behind I hear a quiet, calm voice. I turned to look. It was a priest on a bike. He was probably 70 and about my size. He tried to help the injured biker. When he saw the older lady take over, he began to talk with us. We watched. We stayed. We asked. We made sure she was ok. Several moments later and when we knew she was more frightened than anything, Dave quietly asked the priest,

“My wife just fell. We need a hospital.”

I showed him my hand and he said,

“Oh my! Yes you do.”

He pointed us the way. Dave and I said nothing as we rushed to the car. Then we said everything. Mostly we were shocked and completely grateful  that the woman was ok. Seriously, I can still see the rapid chain reaction.

This kid has my heart. Eli stood by my side quietly & calmly made sure I was ok. Here were are at Snowdownia National Park, Wales
This kid has my heart. Eli stood by my side quietly & calmly made sure I was ok. Here were are at Snowdownia National Park, Wales

In the past few days, via an MRI and x-rays, I had it double-confirmed that my hand is broken (a minimally displaced 5th metacarpal fracture and a minimally displaced hamate fracture).  My hand still hurts, is still swollen, and my arm is still numb. In a month we will see if there is anything else to address. Honestly, I feel lucky and my guess is everything will heal.

The people I love most, Oxford, England
The people I love most, Oxford, England

[Flashing back again to that Oxford, England, parking lot:]

After falling and after the woman crashed, it made complete sense that Kyle was insisting we pause. So  last Thursday I wanted to correlate Kyle’s wisdom. When things were falling apart, and it was time to leave for my sinus surgery, I took a deep breath and asked Dave to pause. Then we both sat down.

We caught our breath, readjusted, and re-grouped.  Sure, I could have gone to my surgery alone, but it is my surgery, my body and I did not want to be alone.  Instead, we canceled my surgery. Then Dave went to his meeting.

Ultimately, Dave and I took responsibility. The doctor goofed up too, changing times and mysteriously canceling the original surgery the week before.

Us, Cecret Lake, Albion Basin near Alta, Utah, Sunday, July 9
Us, Cecret Lake, Albion Basin near Alta, Utah, Sunday, July 9

[Fast Forward again to Salt Lake City, Utah, Monday, July 10:]

As I mentioned, the doctor asked me to come in.  He is a good doctor so I obliged. Nevertheless, even good doctors overstep, and I think that is what he did when he chewed me out. I felt shamed, humiliated and scolded. As a result, I really wanted to have my say. I thought about posting a Google review. I considered saying something like,

“This doctor had to prove he was right. He wanted to punish me. He is immature and self-centered. Be careful.”

Sure. I think he was immature and self-centered. I definitely felt punished. I also have compassion. He is frustrated and my guess is he is not getting the full story. Miracles do happen. As he rebuked, I took a note from Kyle.  Instead of screaming, I paused. I apologized for any misunderstanding and offered that I could see another doctor. He said, “No.” 

 I am no saint. I am human.  And because I make a lot of really awful mistakes (especially via my words), I get it. I also appreciate that he was willing to move forward.  In reality, it was the chain reactions of the past weeks that remind me to consider all sides. See, in all of this, it was my impatience and self-focus that almost got a woman killed. You know what else? Instead of screaming at me or telling me it was my fault, she had perspective. She was rushing and admitted she was.  So were we. She did not scold me. She was kind and she was forgiving.

I am grateful she was not run over by the car. I watched it all.  And yes, it was completely in slow motion horror. I do not know how the car did not hit her. Wow! I am grateful for the people who were there to help her. I am grateful for sweet priest on the bike.  I am grateful Dave, Kyle and Eli were there to help me up. And when I needed it most, Eli quietly put his arm around me. Then as Dave ran ahead to pay the meter, both boys slowly and sweetly walked me to the car.  (By the way, we did not get a parking ticket.)

Even in "lame" estate homes, the boys always seem to make the best of it. I am really lucky to travel with these awesome humans. Wightwick Manor & Gardens, Wolverhampton, England
Even in “lame” estate homes, the boys always seem to make the best of it. I am really lucky to travel with these awesome humans. Wightwick Manor & Gardens, Wolverhampton, England


Bonus: The day was not a complete dark hole of awfulness. After my fall and the bike crash, the boys rose up and regrouped. Then they patiently sat with me in an Oxford hospital as we tried to figure out what to do. They did not complain. They kindly waited and laughed when all we had to pay is 6 dollars US.  On our way back to our hotel, we stopped for 3 GBP meals and enjoyed the rest of our night. We are lucky.

My Broken hand with its most awesome fashion splint, Salt Lake City, Utah
My Broken hand with its most awesome fashion splint, Salt Lake City, Utah

And of course there is an obvious moral to our story: If we remember to stop and pause, maybe we would not miss appointments,  break our bones,  or hurt so many others. I hope it will stick.

 

Keeping it Real As We Make Our Way Home

Our Flight Seattle, Washington to Salt Lake City, Utah
Our Flight Seattle, Washington to Salt Lake City, Utah

[Be warned: Not only did we cover a lot of physical territory on our return flight, my words here are all over the map!]

It is 6:30 AM.  We are on the last leg of our epic adventure, traveling on an Alaska Airlines flight from Seattle to Salt Lake City. The sun is shining through the window bright. I am sitting in seat 17A.  The middle seats are empty, and our family has the entire row. Seconds ago I stole my neck pillow back. I feel a little guilty. Dave really seemed comfortable.

Us on our flight from Seattle, Washing to Salt Lake City, Utah
Us on our flight from Seattle, Washing to Salt Lake City, Utah

Over the intercom I hear a voice. It is the captain:

“We are at a cruising altitude of 39,000 feet …Mad props (yes, he did say ‘mad props’). The captain continues,  “We are going to be on time, or very close to it.  We are lucky to have four of Alaska’s top flight attendants with us today…Enjoy the flight.”

Kyle at the Liechtenstein Main Square, our last day, April, 2017
Kyle at the Liechtenstein Main Square, our last day, April, 2017

The return travel portion of our journey home began approximately thirty-four hours ago when I heard the beep, beep, beep of my alarm. I had no idea what was happening. Confused, I said,

“Stop that noise! Seriously, turn it off.  Whose alarm is that?” (It was mine.)

It was 3:30 AM — Zurich time. Somehow we showered, packed, ate breakfast, and made our way to the airport. I was patted down in Seattle. At the Zurich airport, both Kyle and I had our bags searched. Then the sweet Swiss airport security agent lady held the two tiny jars up high.

“That is my jam for the plane.” I said, and then I looked at Kyle and mumbled, “Not music, but like real jam.”

Examining them she mumbled, or better, spoke German, “[insert German words here].” I listened incomprehensibly. Then smiled when I heard the word, “marmalade.”

“Yes, the marmalade.” I proclaimed.

“Marmelade. Yes. Marmalade.” She laughed and concurred.

She placed the marmalade with my little toothpaste as she crammed all of my small items into one plastic bag. Finally, she instructed me to keep all items in that bag.  As I watched her, all I could think was,

“my jam is with my toothpaste. That’s weird.”

A picture of one of my little jams that made it home from Zurich, Switzerland, April 2017
A picture of one of my little jams that made it home from Zurich, Switzerland, April 2017

We made our way to the gate and as we were boarding, I heard,


“If your name is called, please come and speak to a gate agent.” I heard the name “Adams,” and said, “Dude, they just called our name.”

Uncertain, he listened again, “Adams.”

Sure enough, his name was called, which ultimately meant he was bumped to first class.


Kyle piped in and said, “Mom should get the seat.”

Let me preface this next part and to tell you that in all the years of flying, flights and upgrades, I have never taken the first class seat. Nevertheless, Dave always offers. And yes, on occasion, we have upgraded together. But, because I seem to be allergic to all food, which means I would not fully enjoy the luxury of a first class meal, and because I am also small in stature, which means I fit in a middle seat between the boys more comfortably, I always feel guilty taking the upgrade.  The closest I came to taking him up on his offer is when I suggested we give the upgrade to his mom, who was traveling with us.  (*Hold up! Do not think I am a sweet daughter-in-law because I suggested Dave give his mom the upgrade. Sending his mom to first class was as much as a gift for me as it was for her. We were at the end of a long journey, a journey, where, for two weeks, I listened to her talk at great length as she detailed her previous trips to England including, but not limited to, things such as the intricacies of every meal, a full-blown accounting of where she ate, details such as how the restaurant was decorated, how many people were also eating at said restaurant, then an exhaustive listing of what she and her companions ate, how the food was prepared, and how long it took for her to eat compared to everyone else. **By the way, I bumped her to first class in the van too.  Of course and in truth, I  wanted her to be comfortable as we traveled across the country. As a result, I insisted she sit in the front passenger seat. I sat in the far the back. It was great. Dave drove. She talked. I hid. *Please be hard on me and not her. For more than forty years she was an English professor. And is much more accustomed to an audience. When it came to our return flight, I knew I had no more energy to listen so I insisted she have Dave’s first class upgrade.)

Dave and his mom, DeAnne, Hampton Court, England, July, 2014
Dave and his mom, DeAnne, Hampton Court, England, July, 2014
Me in the back of our rental van somewhere between London and Brighton, England, July, 2014
Me in the back of our rental van somewhere between London and Brighton, England, July, 2014

Of course Dave happily obliged.

Yesterday was different. A voice screamed. Ok, my voice screamed,

“Beth, take the seat!”

I was exhausted. I needed a break and I really needed a moment alone. So I took a deep breath and I took the seat. Of course I immediately offered to split the time with Dave. (You can check my text messages for proof. It was sort of ridiculous actually.)

Dave insisted,

“I think you should stay there the entire time.” Then he demanded, “But you’d better sleep.”

Air Canada 787 Business Class Seats
Air Canada 787 Business Class Seats

I did. I slept. Even after two flight attendants woke me up, I forced myself back to sleep. Sure, I went back and visited Dave and the boys a few times. Of course I had moments of lonely. I hate being alone all those hours. But people it was awesome.

Dave in Toronto Airport's Plaza Premium Lounge -- the only picture I took, April 2017
Dave in Toronto Airport’s Plaza Premium Lounge — the only picture I took, April 2017
Dave & the boys at the Zurich Airport Aspire Lounge, April 2017.
Dave & the boys at the Zurich Airport Aspire Lounge, April 2017.

We landed in Toronto, where we had a six-hour layover, a layover where I sat in the exact same chair in the Plaza Premium Lounge for exactly five hours. For the past few days prior Eli had been bugging me because he wanted to download some Netflix shows. Apparently you can only download Netflix shows on one device at a time and my iPad had the shows.  So to help out a brother, who is really my son, I sat and watched my remaining downloads, which were the last three episodes of the teen-suicide drama “Thirteen Reasons Why.” See, I have been watching the show in tandem with Eli.  He read the book in 7th grade. And after watching the show, I am now retroactively questioning another parenting choice. I can’t change the past, but I can address the now.

I finished the last episode, and with our food-stained yet comfortable airport lounge chairs facing each other, I announced,

“I am done.”

Like the great literary deconstruction specialist he is, Kyle asked, “What did you think?”

“I have mixed feelings.”  I responded.

He shook his head affirmatively and asked, “Like what?”

“For starters, Hannah, the girl whose suicide was graphicaly depicted, announced her despair throughout the show.  She clearly stated that she felt:  flat, hopeless and apathetic.  Consequently, I would argue that it seems a little incongruous that in her hopeless state she had enough energy to make thirteen, very detailed, sixty-minute cassette tapes — not to mention the fortitude it took to procure a cassette recorder … That is a lot of energy.”

“I agree,” Eli piped in.  “And to tell 13 specific people why they played a part in her suicide, well, that is a lot! Mom, there were so many things that did not make sense.”

Colmar, France, April, 2017
Colmar, France, April, 2017

We continued talking about things like teen suicide, rape and why we think narrow literary stereotypes are lame.  Through our analysis we compared the merits of real life versus making a best-selling teen novel turned Netflix-binge watch.   We all agree. Reality and being yourself should win, including the dirty, less glamorous parts. We also concluded (again), that suicide and suicide prevention was not portrayed accurately or well in this Netflix series. 

 

Our conversation wound down and soon we were on our way to our next flight: Toronto to Seattle.  I convinced a tiny, curly haired, and very entertaining teen to trade seats with us. I noticed he was flying alone. I convinced him by telling him he would be sitting behind my sons who would both be happy to talk with him about Pokémon or whatever. He agreed and probably would have moved regardless.  But he did move with a lot of back and forth regarding Gameboy Pokémon compared to travesty that is Pokémon Go. And yes, as a level twenty-four Pokémon Go player, I participated in the trash talk.  (I am not kidding. In fact I leveled up on this trip.) Huzzah!

When I noticed no one was sitting in the seats in front of Dave and me, I urged Kyle to move so both boys could have their own row. As they stretched out, I asked Dave, “should I have offered the Gameboy kid the empty seats?”

To which he said, “No way! If he’d stayed in the seat he was given, he’d still have someone sitting next to him.”

View from a plane at the Toronto, Canada International Airport, April, 2017
View from a plane at the Toronto, Canada International Airport, April, 2017

I let it be, wrapped my clean (because I keep it in a backpack) neck pillow around my neck and turned on a video on the in-flight entertainment system. Ben Affleck was saying words and I could not stay awake.  We landed in Seattle delirious and moments later we met up for a quick bite with one of our favorite humans, Justin. And because it was Seattle and because I stated out loud that I have celiac, the Cheesecake Factory wanted to get my order right. They re-made my dinner three times. I did not ask them to keep remaking my food. It was Jen, our waitress, followed by her manager. They insisted.

“We are closing down our kitchen, but we want to get you something you can eat.”

It was a moment of kindness after a very long flight. I was grateful. They continued,

“We don’t want you to get sick or have some weird allergic reaction.”

Us with Justin, Seattle, Washington, April, 2017
Us with Justin, Seattle, Washington, April, 2017

The food was good. We ate up, found our way back to our hotel. Said goodbye to Justin and found our way to our room.

Here I sit. Around my neck, my pillow snakes. I am wearing noise-canceling headphones, listening to my Spotify Mix and typing away. Now hovering over Salt Lake City, I feel super reflective. I feel reflective as a means to distract me from the mad, turbulence.  Our flight path had us do a bunch of wide circles before we finally came in to land.  As I cross my fingers and hold a hand to the ceiling (not really), I feel grateful. Truthfully, I am grateful we have embraced the what-you-see-is-what-you-get aspect of life, especially as far as travel goes. As such, I own the moments like when I bring marmalade on a plane, or that I would selfishly help my mother-in-law as a means to help myself, or that for my boys I would totally sit in a seat for five straight hours (because I did) and binge watch Netflix. Instead of shame, I think it is cool that the boys and I have played Pokémon all over the world.  And finally, I am so glad that I have learned that profound experiences do not need to be orchestrated by, say, taking the kids to every self-important, humble-brag-to-your-friends museum such as the Louvre or the Prado, unless, that is, you can run them through said museum in less than an hour on “free” museum days.

Easy E outside of the Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain, November, 2016
Easy E outside of the Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain, November, 2016
Kyle in the Prado during our "free last 2 hours of Sunday" visit. We did the museum in under an hour. I surreptitiously took this photo. I am not a fan of "no photo" policies.
Kyle in the Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain, during our “free last 2 hours of Sunday” visit. We did the museum in under an hour. I surreptitiously took this photo. I am not a fan of “no photo” policies.
Dave & I outside of the Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain, November, 2016
Dave & I outside of the Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain, November, 2016

Houston, Texas A Happy Accident

The Armadillo Palace, Houston, Texas
The Armadillo Palace, Houston, Texas

One idea. One moment. One thought. One place to start.

Before my life is over I want to make sure I do my part. I have a lot to say and a lot of observations to make. But then I get stuck in my head — waylaid.

Saturday night, as we literally flew through smog layer (the notorious Salt Lake City temperature inversion), my heart sank, or better, as we entered the inversion, my heart immediately covered itself in a misty, ugly grey. Grey is what I see outside. And as my head and my heart fill with gloom and doom, I try to escape to the rivers and roads I have seen around the world. I want to be in Italy. Last night Dave, Kyle & I went on a wintery walk. As we walked down our slippery street, we talked about magical Italy and the nuances of traveling there.

“We ate such an unregulated amount of gelato on our second Rome visit that by our third visit, even our favorite gelato place in the world, Giolitti, began to lose its luster. I know. I cannot believe I am actually saying this.” [insert long pause here] “I am certain the long absence will renew my half-blueberry-half-dark-chocolate-sorbetto love.” [insert short pause here] “And the whip cream on top does not hurt.”

The Boys inside Giolitti on our second visit to Rome, February, 2015
The Boys inside Giolitti on our second visit to Rome, February, 2015
Us outside of Giolitti on our third visit to Rome, Italy (Dave's second), November, 2015
Us outside of Giolitti on our third visit to Rome, Italy (Dave’s second), November, 2015

Italy is special and we cannot wait to go back. I find excuses and reasons like what is it with those two gentlemen? I am consumed and now convinced we must see Verona. As we walked, we agreed that travel, and preparing to travel, gets me out of my head. Thoughts of Italy are a great distraction on these grey days.

Wait.

Ok. I can just imagine Dave reading what I have just written. Better, I can actually see his face.  It is quizzically blank.

Then I ask him.

“Hey, what do you think?”

“You are all over the place.” He says.

“That is how I feel.” I shoot back and continue, “Dave, transitions are hard. Coming home is hard. I am trying to reset. I see the grey sky. I read the hate online, and I see a life where Princess Leia dies. And of course, the next day her mom dies too. I think Debbie Reynolds must have died of a broken heart.”

I would pause and make sure he was listening. I am certain he would be Googling something like, “Singing in the Rain,” or “what year was Carrie Fisher’s novel ‘Postcards From the Edge’ published?’” Once our eyes locked, I would continue,

“My heart would break too if I had to watch my child go.”

Us at arepa class at Chao Pescao at the Andaz Papagayo Resort, Costa Rica
Us at arepa class at Chao Pescao at the Andaz Papagayo Resort, Costa Rica

This past weekend, on our way back from Costa Rica, we had an unexpected layover in Houston.  We arranged to meet with our friend, Doug.  Doug arranged a spectacular off-the wall-and-outsider tour of Houston. We saw a beer can house and some awesome art cars. And a super bonus: we started our tour at the Rothko Chapel.

Mark Rothko is one one of my very favorite artists. When I saw the room of Rothkos in London’s Tate Modern Museum I wept. No. Seriously. Tears actually filled my eyes and rolled down my freckled face. Then I sat on a bench in the middle of the Rothko room and took a flurry of pictures. How magic is it that Houston’s Rothko Chapel was our meeting place? We arrived on a freakishly cold Houston morning. We saw Doug’s Prius parked up the street. He was standing at the back of his car, grabbing a camera out of the trunk. As we stood there shivering, Doug warned us that the security guards were a bit persnickety and do not allow photography.

“As if.” I thought. “Didn’t he just grab his camera out of the trunk?”

Before I could as those very words out loud, Doug assured us he had a plan:

“Let’s make a game out of seeing how many pictures we can take. There are five of us and only one security guard.” (There were actually two, and they were planted on opposite ends of the round room.)

In the front of the Rothko Chapel, on the floor, were four evenly spaced black cushions. Dave sat on one. I sat on another. I whispered and encouraged him to take some photos.  We were both nervous. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Doug holding his phone. He snapped three excellent shots.

The Rothko Chapel, Houston, Texas
The Rothko Chapel, Houston, Texas
Dave and I inside the Rothko Chapel, Houston, Texas
Dave and I inside the Rothko Chapel, Houston, Texas
The boys outside of the Rothko Chapel, Houston, Texas
The boys outside of the Rothko Chapel, Houston, Texas

Soon the boys and I were back in our rental car, following Doug and Dave to The Beer Can House. Yes. Long ago a man made a house out of beer cans. The house is stunning. Really. At one point Eli quipped,

“What if he had made the house out of one beer can?”

To which our Texas friend responded, “That would be very Texan of him.”

Kyle & I, The Beer Can House, Houston, Texas
Kyle & I, The Beer Can House, Houston, Texas
The Beer Can House, Houston, Texas
The Beer Can House, Houston, Texas
The Beer Can House, Houston, Texas
The Beer Can House, Houston, Texas

The house is closed for remodeling, I believe, and wonder what that means. We took pictures, noticed beer cans entombed in cement, were off to Buffalo Bayou Park Cistern.  In the warm, damp cistern we saw a flickery light, and heard the snappy-fingered thunder that accompanied the “art” rain. I wanted to take a picture in the bathroom afterward, but I didn’t. Then we walked the Buffalo Bayou Park trail to the red button. Finding the button was not easy, but was interesting. Once found, I pushed it as all four boys watched the river. I could not see, but heard them as they exclaimed:

“Wow! Did you see that? Look at the water!”

I quickly pushed the button again. Then I stepped away. I saw it too. In one specific spot, just past the bridge, the water was rumbling. Freezing, we walked on. Up a hill from us we noticed a large statue. It was President Bush. Before I could process that indeed there are two President Bushes, I had already run up to give President George W. Bush a kiss (for my friend Rachael).

That is when someone shouted,

“That’s the older Bush.”  

I haltingly stopped myself and simultaneously asked if there was a statue of the younger.

Me inside the Buffalo Bayou Park Cistern, Houston, Texas
Me inside the Buffalo Bayou Park Cistern, Houston, Texas
Buffalo Bayou Park, Houston, Texas
Buffalo Bayou Walk, Houston, Texas
The Red Button at Buffalo Bayou Park, Houston, Texas
The Red Button at Buffalo Bayou Walk, Houston, Texas
The guys looking at the water below as i push the Red Button at Buffalo Bayou Park, Houston, Texas
The guys looking at the water below as i push the Red Button at Buffalo Bayou Walk, Houston, Texas

We never found the younger Bush and found our way back to our cars. Eli was hungry. Of course Dave chose barbecue. We ate barbecue at Goode Co. Armadillo Palace, and of course saw a large, metal armadillo (with horns). I have a thing for jumping pictures. The large metal armadillo seemed the perfect launching point.  And because we had a fifth wheel, Dave, the boys and I were able to jump together. As he looked at all four of us perched on the Armadillo’s ledge, our friend, Doug, pointed at my phone and said,

“Hold the button down, right?”

“Yes. Take as many as you can.” I responded and we jumped.

Then we jumped again.

Doug and Dave, Goode & Co. Armadillo Palace, Houston, Texas
Doug and Dave, Goode & Co. Armadillo Palace, Houston, Texas
Jumping off of a giant metal armadillo at the Armadillo Palace, Houston, Texas
Jumping off of a giant metal armadillo at the Armadillo Palace, Houston, Texas
A goodby selfie with our most awesome tour guide, Doug, Houston, Texas
A goodby selfie with our most awesome tour guide, Doug, Houston, Texas

Now at Houston’s Art Car Museum our friend Doug had to go. We requested a group selfie. In every direction, the sun was wrong and fiercely bright. The moment was right so we snapped away. In seconds Doug was gone. That is when decided we would go inside the museum if it was free. It was free.

Inside, the woman at the front told us that they were also having an art exhibit that day.

“There was no jury and we accepted art from the first 100 people who entered. You can see by the work here that Houston has a lot of talent.”

(Ok. Of course there were some pieces of questionable quality. I would argue that those pieces made it even better and the show was a delight.) We walked through the museum. I took pictures of cool art pieces, confusing exhibits, and crazy art cars — all entertaining. Then we met Gary, a man with a ZZ Top beard, wearing a cowboy hat and wearing a grey shirt with the name “Gary” embroidered on it.

“Is your name really Gary?” I asked.

“Yes it is.” He responded.

Then Gary told us it would only cost us $30.00 to enter a car in the Art Car Parade. He continued.  “And that includes your entry fee, tickets to the dance, and a t-shirt.”

“Of course it includes a t-shirt.” I said as we laughed.

I asked Gary if I could take a picture with him and Dave. He obliged and stood proud. I took three.

Easy E, Viewing the "Open Call" Exhibit at The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas
Easy E, Viewing the “Open Call” Exhibit at The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas
The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas
The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas
The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas
The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas
Dave and Gary, The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas
Dave and Gary, The Art Car Museum, Houston, Texas

It was time to go. We had a flight to catch. We said goodbye to Gary and were on our way back to the airport, returning our rental car and checking our bags.  We were on the plane. I didn’t mind that Dave was bumped to First Class. The boys and I laughed as we listened to another family of boys argue about whose turn it was to sit by the window. They were persistent. We laughed even harder when we heard their dad insist,

“You now have lost the internet for the rest of the weekend.”

Kyle and I laughed again (empathetically, of course). I felt happy. I was sitting with my boys on each side. We were on our way home. Sure, I knew that I would be hitting the grey Utah winter. My friend, Rita, even texted me, warning me about the bad air. Of course I knew the boys would struggle returning to their routine. (They have.)  I knew Monday would come and I would feel that achy loneliness I feel each day as Dave leaves for work and the boys leave for school. (I did.) Guess what?  I also knew we had this moment.

The boys and I flying from Houston, Texas to Salt Lake City, Utah
The boys and me flying from Houston, Texas to Salt Lake City, Utah

Making Our Way to the Austin City Limits Music Festival

Austin City Limits 2016: Dave and I at the Mumford and Sons Concert.
Austin City Limits 2016: Dave and I at the Mumford and Sons Concert

I went to bed at 2:00 a.m. I tossed and turned. Between tossing and turning, I checked my email, Facebook and Instagram.  My alarm went off. It was 3:00 a.m. Full of middle-of-the-night-melancholy, I contemplated leaving the boys for the weekend. It never gets easier. I hit snooze and before my alarm went off again. It was 3:15 a.m. I showered, shaved my legs, dressed, put my make-up on and blow-dried my hair (with a round brush no less). At almost 4:00 a.m, I looked at Dave sleeping peacefully. I felt slightly jealous as I contemplated waking him. It only takes him approximately 1/10 of the time it takes me to get ready. Time, not jealously reminded me what I needed to do. I urged Dave awake and asked him to change the sheets. Weird. I know. See. My mom was going to spend a night while we were away. I needed her to have clean sheets. When I noticed that the quilt was hanging to the floor on one side, I tried to help him. Clumsily, I grabbed the quilt.  Then I thought, “we don’t have time for this.”

With clean sheets now on, I let the bed be. That is when I realized how congested and clogged my left ear was.  In hopes of easing my ear pain for our flight,I vaguely recall taking a large handful of vitamins and some Sudafed. Then I looked around and double checked. As Dave walked the luggage to the car, I woke both boys up and kissed them good-bye.

Sunrise and reflections at the Denver Airport
Sunrise and reflections at the Denver Airport

Dave and I were on our 5:30 a.m. flight. So I could sit next to Dave, I gave a girl my seat and took her middle seat. Then I looked around at all the filled airplane seats and thought,

“All these people woke up in the middle of the night and made it here too. Crazy.”

Dave and I on our SLC - DENVER flight seconds before I threw up.
Dave and I on our SLC – DENVER flight seconds before I threw up.

The airplane doors shut. The airplane engine started and the plane made its way to the runway. I put my hoodie on, zipped it up, and cinched the the hood as I put it on over my head. I plopped my head on Dave’s knee. The plane began to take off. Within seconds, sweat dripped down my neck, around my upper lip and across my forehead. I felt dizzy. In hopes of cooling off, I pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I popped up, looked at Dave and pointed toward the seat pocket in front of me. Dave used his husbandly super powers and knew I needed a barf bag.  As I took my hoodie off and pushed up my sleeves, I convinced myself I would not puke.  It literally took less than 10 seconds for Dave to locate the bag, open it and hand it to me. Once the bag was in my hand, I glanced at the seat-belts-must-be-on sign and knew. I lowered my head and began to heave. I could not stop. Soon, the bag was full. I was oddly impressed that I was actually able to puke in a completely full plane — during take-off no less. I looked up. The seatbelt sign was still on. That is when I noticed the girl next to me was curled around the aisle side armrest. I smiled. She literally moved as far away as she could.  I do not blame her.

Finally a flight attendant walked by offering drinks.

“I need to use the bathroom.” I said.

“You will have to wait.” She insisted.

Then I realized she had no idea that I had just (epically) vomited during take-off. In that moment it also occurred to me that maybe the entire plane had not heard my (most impressive) wrenching. For clarity,  I held my full barf bag up in the air and said,

“What would you like me to do with this?”

I think she jumped a little and told me to use the bathroom at the front of the plane. With the seatbelt sign finally off, I made my way past first class section, when I was immediately scolded for using the wrong bathroom.  

“She told me to come up here.” I urged.

Then I prominently held up the full bag of barf.  I watched the flight attendant’s eyes as he  horror-gasped and motioned me to the bathroom.

I believe he made an audible “ew”  while he dramatically grabbed a tissue. In an instant, the tissue became a hazmat suit or a talisman. With his protective gear in hand, the flight attendant promptly covered each knob and handle.

He must have noticed me watching him, because that is when he firmly stated,

“I don’t want to get sick.”

“Dude, we are on a plane.” I thought.

Then I said (out loud), “I am not sick, sick. I have motion sickness. See, I took vitamins and Sudafed on an empty stomach. My ear is plugged…”

He feigned reassurance, and grabbed another tissue.

That is how our Austin City Limits weekend began…

Dave and I moments after entering the Austin City Limits Music Festival, Day 1, Austin, Texas
Dave and I moments after entering the Austin City Limits Music Festival, Day 1, Austin, Texas

On the next flight I cried when I realized I would not be able to lay my body across the fixed-arm bulkhead seats. Then I feel asleep.

Alive, we arrived in Dallas. Yes. That is what I just said. We arrived in Dallas (not Austin) to meet our friends. They live there.  We hopped in their car and drove I-35 to Austin, stopping at a Race Trac gas station, another random gas station, and a Target Starbucks, which was located next to another Texas megachurch. On route, Dave activated our 3-Day Austin City Limits Festival armbands and Rachael, one of our Dallas hosts, sat with me in the back so we could catch up on years of missed conversation.

I think between all the barfing, crying and road tripping, I convinced myself that once we arrived in Austin I would be able to take a nap, shower and brush my teeth. It was not to be. We arrived at the Hyatt Regency Austin. Thank you, Hyatt points and Diamond Status (from living in a Hyatt hotel way back when). You enabled us to get a great room with an awesome view.  We checked in, made our way to our room. I did brush my teeth, change my clothes and discuss the virtues of wearing my running clothes, including my tall compression socks for a festival venue — (best wardrobe plan ever)!

Austin City Limits Music Festival, Feet at the Corinne Bailey Rae Concert, austin, Texas
Austin City Limits Music Festival, Feet at the Corinne Bailey Rae Concert, Austin, Texas
Corinne Bailey Rae is performing way up at the front. ACL Music Festival, Austin, Texas
Corinne Bailey Rae is performing way up at the front. ACL Music Festival, Austin, Texas
LL Cool J Day 2  Austin City Music Festival was AWESOME!
LL Cool J Day 2 Austin City Music Festival was AWESOME!

I put my wristband on just loose enough so I could remove it each night —  #protip. We walked back to the car and drove to the secret parking spot, attended by John, the very kind, white-bearded, hat-wearing dude. We paid him ($30) and walked another mile or so to Zilker Park, the site of the Austin City Limits Music Festival.

On our way we walked along policemen protecting the streets and hipster-locals, who were refreshingly nice. As we walked, we crammed the streets with the other concert goers: girls wearing super high cut-offs, people who take festivals way too seriously, and frat boys who don’t. We were inundated with ticket scalpers (men running up and down the street asking to buy our arm bands), vape smokers blowing their flavor-filled vape-y smoke, and hundreds of bike taxis. We walked by a flash tattoo stand selling overpriced gold and silver temporary tattoos. Of course there were people covered in real tattoos too. I looked around and looked some more. I kept looking for what I had imagined Austin would be. I imagined Austin would be a much more tightly packed, urban setting, such as Portland’s Pearl District or Minneapolis’ Uptown. Yes.  Austin is hipster-y cool and urban, yet it felt oddly spread out and suburban (kind of like Salt Lake City).

Dave carrying our REI Flex Lite Chairs through the crowd, ACL Music Festival, Austin, Texas
Dave carrying our REI Flex Lite Chairs through the crowd, ACL Music Festival, Austin, Texas

We arrived at the festival gates around 4:00 pm. It was dusty, hot and packed. In a blurry daze (because I was tired, not high), we set up our chairs, watched bands, filled our water bottles (you can’t bring liquids in and are searched), and ate festival food (gluten free tamales). I jumped and danced to South Africa’s crazy band, Die Antwoord. We moved to another stage, lost Dave along the way, and found him way in the back. My friend spread out her big red blanket and we  sat down. On the ground I took pictures of people’s feet. Then I stood up to watch. I could not see. My view: a couple making-out through Corinne Bailey Rae’s entire set. The blanket served its purpose, except for the part where I felt like I might get trampled at any moment. As a result of the trampling potential, I highly recommend bringing REI’s very comfortable and easily packable Flex Lite Chair. We packed those chairs in our carry on. Dave packed them in his concert backpack. We set them up and easily took them down all weekend. Our friends liked the REI Flex Lite Chair so much they bought two on our second day. (No, REI is not paying me to say this).

I could not believe I was still standing. Austin City Limits Music Festival Day 1 ended with Radiohead. I was still awake because I had dreamy high hopes of singing my heart out to Radiohead’s classics, such as, “Creep,” “Fake Plastic Trees,” or, “High and Dry.” Dream shattered. Even with the distraction of an obnoxious and drunk concert goer (he was accosting people in the row in front of me), Thom Yorke gave the proverbial middle finger to his fans, opting for ambient and unrecognizable songs. Radiohead’s set literally put me to sleep (*see attached photo). Nap taken. We decided to leave. I loved people-watching our way back to the car.

Me literally asleep during the Radiohead Concert. ACL Music Festival, Austin, Texas
Me literally asleep during the Radiohead Concert. ACL Music Festival, Austin, Texas

The following two days brought more excitement, concert smoke and inappropriately dressed people. We also experienced Austin. Austin’s South Congress Street was my favorite. It brought us to Lucy’s Fried Chicken. Yum. I loved the Maple Sweet Potato Mashed Potatoes and all of the hipster souvenir shops. Who doesn’t want to wear a shirt that has the word “baller” written across a Ball Canning Jar  or a print of Mr. Spock playing the harp? Off of Congress, Dave found the best giant-sized, homemade donuts at Gourdough’s (Big Fat Donut Trailer). I must admit I was tempted to throw my celiac to the wind and take a bite.  I held strong. We ended our weekend well, eating at the local favorite, the Magnolia Cafe. Sure, the arctic breeze the air conditioner provided resulted in cold tacos and solid gingerbread pancake butter. Nevertheless, the experience was awesome. We spent our time discussing the impressively bearded man in the corner. Of course the bearded man prompted Dave to Google “beard contests.”  Thank you, Austin.

Hanging Out at Lucy's Fried Chicken in Austin, Texas
Hanging Out at Lucy’s Fried Chicken in Austin, Texas

In the end, my favorite part of our Austin City Limits weekend is seeing the festival’s final act: Mumford and Sons. In truth, Mumford and Sons are the reason I was there. Hey Thom Yorke here is a #protip: play to your audience. Would it kill you to regale us with “Creep?”

Here is how the Mumford and Sons experience played out: It was our last day. I knew our friends wanted to kayak in the river that runs through Austin. They live in Texas and have kayaked before. With time running short, I suggested we see the city. I will say now that kayaking may have been the correct choice. Nevertheless, our friends were game and did their best to show us Austin. We hopped in their car. Within minutes we found ourselves driving up the windy streets of one of Austin’s trendy city neighborhoods. We stopped and got out of the car. In seconds I had white shoe-covering booties covering my feet as we attended a realtor’s open house (true story). We were close to South Congress Street, so we stopped for what I would now call an unproductive souvenir-buying attempt. In the hot Austin sun we walked up and down along shops and trendy cafes. I loved spending a half hour talking to the people at Texas National Outfitters. Their boots are awesome. Moments later, and as we crossed to the other side of the street, we were accompanied by an armless man screaming,

“Hillary Rodham for Clinton.”

Somehow our pace matched ours as he accompanied us screaming for several more blocks. In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit he did stop to sing “Hillary Rodham for Clinton” with a band that was playing along the street.  Now at the car, I was hungry and tired of festival food so we opted for Whole Foods. Thank goodness Dave is a team player and enthusiastically proclaimed,

“Hey, this is the birthplace of Whole Foods, let’s go.”

For the first time that weekend, I was actually able to find something I like to eat. I consider that a win. I am certain our friends were not as enthused. As we pulled into the Whole Food’s parking lot my friend declared:

“I do not like going to grocery stores!”

Our friends were good sports. I think they may also see it as a win because the were able to (1.) use a clean bathroom, and (2.) apply some yummy perfume.

Where Dave and I sat firmly planted in the hot sun (for hours). We prevailed and our Mumford-and-Sons view was excellent.
Where Dave and I sat firmly planted in the hot sun (for hours). We prevailed and our Mumford-and-Sons view was excellent.
Austin City Limits Music Festival, Austin, Texas
Austin City Limits Music Festival, Austin, Texas

Back at the festival we made it past security (twice) because the first person did not like our friend’s (Whole Foods) chocolate bar and was going to confiscate it.  Instead of throwing it out, they went through another line and hid it better. Now inside, we walked and danced our way to the very front left side of the main stage. Mumford and Sons were slated to go on at 8 p.m. It was around 4:30 p.m. Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats were in the middle of their set when our friends (wisely) disappeared. Dave and I committed to our plan, which was to be as close to the front as possible. We danced. We sang and I listened to the women next to me harmonize (or try too) at the top of her lungs. The Night Sweats played their last song, “SOB,”  and the crowd went crazy. By the end of the song, I was not only dancing and singing, I was jumping and screaming. The band finished. Dave and I made our way as close to the front as possible, the barrier on the left side. It was the fence that separated the commoners from VIP section.  We sat down and spread all four backpacks (yes, our friends’ too).  With our backs against the fence and the hot sun on our face, we waited. At 6:00p.m. we dug our heels in (literally) for the Chris Stapleton performance. Women of all ages pushed, shoved and grabbed at me. Their attempts were no match for my determination. Truth be told, Chris Stapleton is another artist I do not know. His hairy-sexy-beast persona won me over. His performance was awesome. I especially enjoyed his “You are my Sunshine” duet with his wife, Morgane.

Mumford and Sons, Austin City Limits Music Festival, Austin, Texas
Mumford and Sons, Austin City Limits Music Festival, Austin, Texas

By the time Mumford and Sons began (shortly after 8:00 p.m., Dave and I had befriended a group of Louisiana high school girls, who offered to act as a barrier between me and the crowd, two very nice and self-assured college kids, a brother and sister, and the security guards manning the entrance of the VIP section. During the concert the guards passed water to us and we would pass to the crowd.  When they gave us beer, we gave it to the brother and sister. Our Dallas-based friends had come and gone and were sitting off to the side. I will tell you what: Every sweat inducing, hair pulling, full-bladder suffering moment was worth the wait. The music began to play. The crowd began to scream. Then Marcus Mumford began to sing as the audience sang along. Instead of playing obscure ambient noise (I’m still not over it, Radiohead), Mumford and Sons played to their audience. The energy was electric! They played new stuff for a little while, but before they lost us, they got back to songs we knew. They played “Ghosts that we knew,” a song that carried me through me last late miscarriage. I cried while Dave and I sang. We held hands.  We pinched each other. We pinched ourselves. In a flash, all the bad, boring, vomit-y, and uncomfortable moments of the weekend washed away. We were here. I was jumping. Dave was singing and my compression socks were making it easy. Thank you Mumford and Sons, you do a show right.

View from our room on the 15th floor, Hyatt Regency, Austin, Texas
View from our room on the 15th floor, Hyatt Regency, Austin, Texas

And thank you, Austin, Texas, and your City Limits. We really enjoyed our weekend with you.

 

CrazyUs Itinerary: Walking Tour Athens, Greece

The boys on Acropolis Hill walking toward the Parthenon, Athens, Greece
The boys on Acropolis Hill walking toward the Parthenon, Athens, Greece

This is our itinerary maiden voyage (super pre-beta, beta). Please feel free to let me know what works and what does not work (I would love you forever if you weighed in).

QUESTIONS:

  • Where would you like to see more information?
  • Where would you like to see more user instruction?
  • Other thoughts?

Please feel free to comment on our CrazyUs.com Facebook Page, or send emails to me (beth) at this website. Thank you! Thank you!

Itinerary. Athens, Greece Walking Tour

CrazyUs.Map.Key

CrazyUs Static Athens Walking Tour Map
CrazyUs.com Static Athens Walking Tour Map

 

Expanded Map Key

WALKING TOUR TIPS:

  • We did our Athens, Greece walking itinerary in three days. Because our host suggested we remain in the tourist section of town, we covered this same area a few times.
  • NOTE. We added a grocery store to the itinerary. We often find that it is easier buying food and preparing it at our rental than figuring out a menu. If nothing else, eating in and eat out breaks up the routine. Make sure to buy bottled water at the grocery store. It is much cheaper than buying it from a street vendor.
  • Food: We loved the food in Greece. TripAdvisor offers great reviews of local restaurants. While we tend to use Yelp in the U.S., TripAdviser has better reviews overseas.
  • Hotels. You can find where we stayed here: Expedia, Hotels.com or AirBandB for your lodging.
  • Safe Lodging: As you may have noticed by the links, our apartment was listed on various sites. Because it was the apartment was listed and reviewed at various place, we were confident when booking. When traveling overseas, you can often find rentals online, which saves on the extra person charges.
  • Credit Cards: Advice that places do not take credit cards in Greece is out of date. We found that most places in Greece accept credit cards. Make sure to use a credit card that has no foreign transaction fee.

Walking Athens, Greece: Our First Itinerary

Easy E in the touristy section of Athens, Greece
Easy E in the touristy section of Athens, Greece

Hi there. We are often asked to share our trip itineraries. I think get it and here is why.  In a few weeks we leave for Thailand. Except for the “you must hang out with elephants,” admonition we constantly receive, Dave and I have no idea what to expect or where to go. Should we go to Phuket or Chiang Mai? Where should we go first? Do you know? I don’t. That being said, I did read a very useful web site which lists 39 things I should know if I go to Thailand.   Now I know that I should bow at the appropriate times, that that I should likewise not touch anyone on the head, and that really using a fork to eat is just plain foolish. All great advice, but again, where is my direction? We need a plan!

Consequently, because I need a plan, I remembered your requests for my plans. I do get it. So, between large bites of gluten free carrot cake and giant sips of whatever day time drink I can find, I am finally putting our itineraries together.  I am a bit overwhelmed. We travel more than I realize, which means I have quite a backlog to assemble. Nevertheless, I am excited. I envision these map-based-plans as travel safety nets and ready-made-trips. Hopefully, Dave and I can provide a new level of travel comfort, understanding and access.

 

Because it is fresh on my brain, I am beginning with Athens, Greece. I am posting some photos here to correlate with my Athens, Greece, Itinerary. Please feel free to give me your feedback.

Finally and most importantly,

What would you like to know?
What would help make these itineraries more interesting?
easier to follow?
and just plain useful?

Your feedback will not hurt my feelings. Your input is invaluable! If we are going to do this, we want to get this right.

Athens, Greece
The Parthenon at the Acropolis, Athens, Greece: Find the two Waldo’s, I mean, Kyle and Eli

 

Me at the Parthenon, Athens, Greece
Me at the Parthenon, Athens, Greece

 

Us at the Parthenon, Athens, Greece
Us at the Parthenon, Athens, Greece

 

Acropolis, Athens, Greece
Acropolis, Athens, Greece

 

The Acropolis Museum, Athens, Greece
The Acropolis Museum, Athens, Greece

 

Kyle and Eli inside the Acropolis Museum.
Kyle and Eli inside the Acropolis Museum

 

Starbucks, Mitropoleos, Athens, Greece
Starbucks, Mitropoleos, Athens, Greece

 

Kyle at the Agora, Athens, Greece
Kyle at the Agora, Athens, Greece

 

The Agora, Athens, Greece
The Agora, Athens, Greece

View of Acropolis Hill from Ancient Agora, Athens, Greece
View of Acropolis Hill from Ancient Agora, Athens, Greece

 

Temple of Zeus, Athens, Greece
Temple of Zeus, Athens, Greece

Dave and Easy E, Temple of Zeus, Athens, Greece
Dave and Easy E, Temple of Zeus, Athens, Greece

 

Us at the Temple of Zeus, Athens, Greece
Us at the Temple of Zeus, Athens, Greece

Our Acropolis view from the window of our ABA Athens Boutique Apartments, Athens, Greece. We only wish we had booked this crazy awesome place for 3 nights instead of 2.
Our Acropolis view from the window of our ABA Athens Boutique Apartments, Athens, Greece. We only wish we had booked this crazy awesome place for 3 nights instead of 2.