IOU (a VERY HUGE...)

Update. Let’s start from the beginning as in August 23rd around noon. We picked up my brother from his condo so he could see us off and take the car while my parents were gone. We said our goodbyes, shared hugs and my mom gave my brother ten dollars with explicit instructions to buy the winning Mega Million Lotto ticket. Wish us luck. Then, we were off to venture into an unusually crowded Sea-Tac airport. I was taking two big suitcases and two little ones. Sounds like a bit much, right? I know, I know. But I had to be prepared (read: I still forgot some things, which I would love to share with you and embarrass myself.) and well-equipped to face the most chic city in the world. My parents had three suitcases between them so you can imagine the mass we had to wrangle in to the weigh station and such. Luckily, we were flying business class and we each got three free check-in bags and a special line to use in security. Ahh, being the daughter of a business savvy, high credit scoring, gold member of every travel service known to man, no holds barred woman. What a mouthful.

Business class was amazing! You could fit a whole economy class chair in between me and the chair in front of me. Lumbar massages, full recline, personal TVs, multiple course meals. It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Why can’t they make the whole plane like that? Money talks, I guess. And being wealthy will always have benefits. Only this time, we’re not wealthy elites trotting the globe. We (read: my mom and dad) are hard-working, pull you up by your boot straps, tough love kind of people who deserve every bit of luxury they earn. Okay, so my mom and dad are those people. I’m just lucky to be their offspring. Cha-ching! I kid.

So I watched three and a half movies (Sunshine Cleaning, 17 Again… I can’t remember the third full one, and a part of The Reader) and an episode of Bones before we made it to Amsterdam. I think I slept for about 45 minutes when we took off minus the magical reclining power of my seat. Still absurdly comfortable though. Can you tell I can’t get over flying like that? It was just…wow. I wish it upon every person I know and love. We land in Amsterdam. The airport is clean, spacious and chock full of duty free stores. Seriously, separate stores dedicated to whiskey and cigars, chocolate, wine…you name it. Wow. We walked around for a while searching for our designated lounge. And after a couple blisters on my slightly swollen feet in brand new shoes, we make it. I fell asleep intermittently in a comfy albeit tight chair in front of an Italian business man. Not so flattering, but I couldn’t help it. I hope he didn’t judge me too much.

After a couple hours, we bustled over to our gate and boarded. It was a short flight but we still got a snack-y sort of meal. I’m not quite sure what it was, but there was chocolate in the dessert. No questions when there’s chocolate, my friend. We decided to take a 17 euro bus instead of a 70 euro taxi ride. Totally worth it. I got a nap in. But when we got to our hotel room…wait, let me digress. Hotel rooms in Europe are slightly ridiculous. You either get a king sized bed or two twin beds. Not so great when you have three people. We worked the twins though, no problem. It’s just that they’re so small! I think it’s a reflection of the way Europeans live their life. The bedroom is just for that: the bed = sleeping. In the States, wow, you could fit half of your house in a deluxe hotel room. We like our space, Americans. We like to lounge about and walk around in our rooms. We equate luxury with vastness and greatness of size. So it seems. Europeans are usually smaller in frame anyway, but they seem to be less demanding when it comes to a hotel room. I’m basing this on a small frame of experience, but I’ve come to agree with the European way of seeing it. All I need is a clean and soft bed with an equally clean and accommodating bathroom. Not so much to ask. I don’t need a view, but I do need…I don’t know, toilet paper.

Enough of my digression, on to the details of my first day! We slept from three in the afternoon to eight in the evening. We were tired and jetlagged. We strolled the streets of the area called Montparnasse. It’s pretty urban and lacks the same aesthetic beauty of the other areas in Paris. Anyway, we walked around for an hour or so and ended up eating at a place that served burgers. Sigh. I voted for crepes but my dad wanted something more substantial. To tell you the truth, I don’t think my parents like Paris much. It makes them uncomfortable. Parisians are quite exclusive. They judge you on the way you look and have engrained in their minds poor impressions of Americans. They don’t all speak English and they enjoy a very different way of life. Their coffee is strong, their lunches are huge, gallant affairs, their dinners are small and they’re stuck in their ways. People who are stuck in their ways don’t really like others who are stuck in ways different from theirs. (Did that make sense?) I’m thinking that’s why Americans and the French don’t like each other much. I could get on my soapbox and be all preachy but I’m letting it be for now.

That was Paris, really. Oh, but I should talk about the meal. It took two and a half hours to get a salad, burgers and a dessert. No joke. They waited twenty minutes to take our order. They waited twently minutes before serving each course; drinks included. And they forgot my dessert and got all snotty about it. See, if it was their mistake, there was no need to be rude to us. Bother. Anyway, after that, I don’t think my parents like the French much. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that their three days in Paris while I am taking placement exams and moving in with my host family goes well for them.

Quick funny story from dinner, we were eating at a place called Hippopotamus restaurant and we all ordered Hippo burgers, My dad thought they were serving us actual hippo meat. I have such a cute and funny daddy. It took about ten minutes to convince him otherwise. A part of me still thinks that he thinks we ate hippo meat. See, sometimes he just gives up and doesn’t argue. With two women in the family, he’s outnumbered without my brother. And I do feel bad. Man, do they get into fights like cats. It’s something about traveling and holidays. The biggest fights always happen during those times. I’ve now learned to be a bystander not a referee. Talk about giving myself way too much psychological scarring. They’re both Scorpios so it’s a little difficult. Actually, (almost) everyone in my family is a Scorpio – my mom, my dad, my brother, my grandma, my grandpa, my great-aunt, my dog…I’m the only Gemini.

So Stuttgart, we woke up at five in the morning to get ready and left at six to catch a 7:30 train. We really should have left at 6:30 but my mom always thinks she knows what she’s doing. About 95% of the time, she has great intuition, but let’s just say this was a part of the 5% she doesn’t always get right. It could have saved us a fight between my parents, a grumpy dad and sitting for an hour staring at each other…if she had listened to me and the Concierge. Eh, we made it to Germany all whole and relatively happy human beings. The train ride was very nice. And I was able to finish the Grapes of Wrath. LOVED IT. I’m on to East of Eden, but I should really get on to French books and newspapers. It’s Steinbeck, really. He’s irresistible.

I don’t speak German. I speak and understand French, mostly understand Tagalog, some Spanish, a very teeny tiny bit of Italian, and an even smaller amount of Arabic, but German – no. We were a little disoriented in our quest for the hotel. My mom and I decided we’d make an adventure out of it and walk through the park to the hotel. It was only 10-15 minutes and very lovely, but my dad was a Debbie Downer and complained that normal people don’t drag luggage around in a park. Well, he should be proud we’re pioneering the movement. Luckily, we had a map and there were pictures and some recognizable words that got us through. But my dad got in trouble. He seriously dragged his suitcase and caused a good-sized hole in the back. My mom was not happy.

We took a city tour which was nice, but we fell asleep because we were full of traditional German food by the time the tour started. Let me just say, bratwurst with warm sauerkraut is AMAZING! Then, we went back to our hotel and slept some more. We like our sleep, okay? Still jetlagged. This is our second day! Sorry, I got a little worked up. We woke up around 8:45 and walked around. The Germans do not take their dinner as late as the French, but we figured something out and I had a crepe while my parents had some pizza. The girl who helped us was really nice and gave us a great deal.

We got back to the hotel room and that’s that. My parents are asleep but here I am typing away. I shouldn’t take such long naps anymore, but on the bright side, I can update you all with a ridiculously long entry.

My next plan of action is to create a Flickr account and get the link here so you can read and see my adventures. Cheers!

**I feel like I’m leaving stuff out, but I’ll try to write more updates more often. I hope that when I’m done traveling with my parents my blog can take a different turn. I feel like I’m writing in a journal. I’ll work on it.