A Blur of Seaside Towns

Oct 17 - Cartagena: Adorable, colorful town. The group of us wandered and shopped before stopping for a "tapas" lunch. At the table, Dad was targeted by an African salesman pedaling wooden bowls. "You Sir, a bowl for you."

"I don't want it," Dad replied.
"25 euro."
"But I don't want it."
"20 Euro."
"It's not the money, I just don't want it."
On and on until Dad caved. Now I'm the one having to lug around his "African artifact."

Oct 18 - Palma de Mallorca: What a jewel. I'll need to come back and stay a while.

19 - Barcelona: I am the only one who hasn't been to Barcelona before. We all took the "HoHo" for a tour around town. (Hop on Hop off bus) Dad took his Ambien too late last night and was in a major stupor. He became nauseous and then slept through the rest of the tour. Says he's never getting on a bus again. 

Oct 20 - Marseille: While everyone went to Aix, Dad and I stayed in Marseille (Dad didn't want the bus ride) to explore. We climbed an old medieval tower and wandered the windy streets looking for lunch. We found a hole in the wall with the happiest French fella, Lucas, making sandwiches. He was delighted we chose to eat at his shop. Honored even. I practiced my French, became embarrassed, and then Lucas spoke English for us. He was so excited about his newest sandwich - banh mi inspired pulled pork- that I didn't have the heart to stick to my morals and not order it, so I ate a pork sandwich and it was delicious. 

Cruel but delicious.  

Oct 21 - Ajaccio, Corsica: The tiniest town. Took 5 minutes to walk the whole thing. Dad bailed. Then Ellen. Then Georgia. Then David. Mom, Carolyn and I made it another 20 minutes. Beautiful markets with fruit, honey, cheeses and fish. Everyone took long naps today. I've been befriending the two Italian baristas up in the coffee lounge. Mom came with me today to have a cappuccino. She guzzled it, loved it and then ordered a second one. "Ohh! Now I can go to coffee shops and home and have these! What a treat!"

The First Few Days

Ahh boarding cruise ship. Though I have an ethical issue with the cruising industry, I'll admit that those first few hours are especially thrilling. While Ellen studied the ship's layout months in advance, I enjoyed wandering around to get my bearings. Despite it being a relatively small boat, the decor created a confusing geo-location challenge. The front of the boat looks an awful lot like the back of the boat. Choose your elevator wisely. We all climbed aboard and ate lunch while we waited for our rooms to be ready. Chris Union, however, lives in his own world where there are no rules, so he took himself down to his room even though they asked everyone not to do that. He unpacked and made himself right at home. 

From this day on, the many stops of our Mediterranean adventure would begin to blur together. Is this Spain? No, France... I think. They were all lovely stops; rocky hillside towns with tiny cars and stone buildings. Windy streets, exciting plants, and room temperature water. What more could a culture-seeking American need? 

Notes from the Journal:

Oct 14 - Cadiz Spain; Dad continues to mispronounce words and giggle at his own nonsense. To help him remember we were in Cadiz, I said, "Looka deez!" and then fondled some air boobs. He loved it but Mom got mad at me. Ellen stayed behind today (our first stop) to play on her phone. She says she is tired. We lugged around a jug of distilled water so that Carolyn could flush out her nose with it later. Ellen texted that she wanted to join us, so she did, and ten minutes laters she said, "I'm done. Anyone going back to the ship?"

Most nights we ate dinner as the group of 9 that we were. I liked the big family dinners. Oftentimes Hailey and I were the faintest bit seasick in the evenings which made it difficult to eat like pigs. After supper there was either a show, a comedian, or a band playing somewhere. Alston and Hailey befriended the bartender near the casino and spent most nights there making friends with assorted staff and guests. Dad and Dave would take their chances at the craps table while the Leisure Club and I found ways to entertain ourselves. Ellen would go to bed right after dinner but she did come to a show one night and up to the "dance club" twice. 

Due to the clientele of the ship, there was lots of depressing people-watching to be done. Except for a well behaved four year old that stayed down the hall, I think we were the youngest youngsters. I'd suggest that the median age of the guests was "the sixties" and most of them were hefty. Overtime Dad became disgusted by their "big swaying butts."

Our second stop was Casablanca which I'll go ahead and tell you was a big, uninviting dirty city. There was smog, litter, and people pooping on the sidewalk. But don't give up on it yet. Ellen told us we needed to take a bus ride an hour northeast to Rabat and everything would be different. Ellen doesn't mess around with travel plans. All nine of us climbed aboard a big bus and drove out of the smog along the coast of Morocco and pulled into a lush, green, clean city filled with mosques and parks and smiling people wrapped in beautiful fabrics. 

Notes from the Journal:

Oct 15 - Morrocco; Ellen has elected herself Trip Leader and organizes our activities as needed. She insisted we go to Rabat and she was right, though she's a bit bossy about it. Today we visited two mosques and a casbah. Lots of stray kitties and jokes about knockers. Hailey and I were accosted by women giving henna tattoos. Dad was infuriated by the staining. Says he failed as a father. The casbah was like an eerie Greek village - quiet and dirty but also colorful and picturesque. 

Around suppertime the captain announced that something was wrong with the engine and we would not be leaving the port. The family immediately began plotting what they would do if the rest of the trip was cancelled. I think Switzerland was the solution. Ellen went to bed after supper but the rest of us stayed in "the trough" chatting. Carolyn admitted to having showered for the first time that day and Dad couldn't let it go. Up in the late night dance club was a Ryan Stiles-esque dancing man whose wild moves captivated everyone in the room. We heard many people throughout the trip discussing his unique dancing. 

Notes, continued; Midnight; the ship still hasn't cranked up. Once Ryan stopped dancing, Carolyn and Dave left to go flush out Carolyn's nose while Dad began stoking an existential crisis about growing old. "Look at all these old farts. There's a young person in each of them just dying to get out." 
We did finally leave the port at 2am but to keep us on track, we had to forgo the stop in Gibraltar in favor of a full day at sea, hustling to our next locale. 

Ellen, Dad, and I sat on the back of the boat and had a slow breakfast. We convinced Dad to try Museli for the first time - he really liked it but kept calling it Muslix. With his aging meltdown fresh on his mind, he scooped up a spoonful of wet oats and mashed them into his mouth like a disabled old fart, letting moist clumps ooze down his chin and drop back down onto his plate. It was so convincing that it made me cry. 

Ellen went back to bed after breakfast so Mom, Dad and I sat in the coffee shop and watched the powerwalkers circle the deck. It was windy, and gusts would blow the walkers off course. Dad would voice each of their inner monologues as they walked past and we'd have to stifle our laughter. With an unexpected day at sea, we played shanghai, ate a big lunch and took naps. I watched a movie in our room with Ellen while she enjoyed room service, and otherwise, we didn't really encounter Georgia or any other family members until suppertime. 

Here's Ellie at peak happiness.

2 Days in Lisbon

I'm in one of those phases where the sound of my writing voice is getting on my nerves. Isn't a shame we can only have our own thoughts and not hear things from another perspective? I use the same words over and over again. I know exactly how I'll describe my next thought. How dull.

So sitting down to tell about our family adventure resulted in my own instant boredom - not for the riveting tales of life abroad, but bored of the presentation. How do I make this interesting?

Day one... just kidding. 

Meeting the family in Lisbon was a giddy sort of thing, what with everyone taking different flights and coming from different directions. As is usually the case, we arrived in town long before our hotel was ready for us, so we found a cafe on a hill and spent the early Portuguese morning with hot tea and that just-got-to-town sleepy, thrilled feeling. 

But starting my story there skips the good parts of the trek over. These include noticing stains on Ellen and Dad's shirts while we were still in the Charleston airport. Ellen's stain looked suspiciously like baby vomit while Dad's looked to have come from his lunch. Both of them were distressed by their stains. "I have to the throw this shirt away!" Dad exclaimed. He put his sweater on over it even though he wasn't cold. Ellen's stain was much more noticeable. She ran off to the bathroom to clean it and somehow that effort turned the stain blue. It became a mystery stain and Ellen spent time standing in positions that hid it from the world. 

The other good part is that Dad took an Ambien shortly after we took off. I found him wandering the plane and when he saw me, relief washed over his face. He was so excited to see me, as if months had passed. He gave me an excessively long hug in the aisle and told me, "I love you SO much." Then he sat down and fell asleep and it turns out he doesn't remember a thing of it. He had also convinced the flight attendant to give Ellen and me some ice cream.

"I was walking around?" he asked as we all recounted our in-flight activities, "We talked?"

Georgia, Carolyn, and David eventually met us at the hillside cafe before I took everyone to the clown school for lunch. I was so glad to see that Brett's and my favorite dining establishment from our honeymoon was still going strong. It was a big hit, that clown school lunch, and then we all went back to the hotel for naps. 

For the record, I intended to bring my faincy camera on the trip to maximize the the photo documentation prettiness factor. I had my camera and lens and memory card all packed up and ready. I just needed to get the battery from a box of things I left at Mom's house... I couldn't find it. We had just moved out of Black Pig Farms - stuff was everywhere. So I unloaded my camera gear from my carry-on and then rode off to the airport. 

That's my long winded apology for presenting you with uninspiring phone photos of such inspiring locales.

During our time in Lisbon we had run-ins with Alston and Hailey (mostly at meal times) and we rode little tuk-tuks around town one morning in an effort to see more of the city. Mom, Dad, Georgia and I rode in Juan's tuk-tuk. Juan was well informed on the history and hubbub of Portugal and had lots of interesting topics to discuss. Carolyn, David, and Ellen rode with Greg; a seemingly drunken Frenchman who spoke little English and probably didn't know what city he was in. What he lacked in qualifications he made up for with spunk. He was nuts; giggly and talkative - you just couldn't understand him. Ellen scrambled out of his tuk-tuk at one stop and said, "I think Greg is crazy!" Dad and Greg spoke the same language in facial expressions and became tickled with each other towards the end. Greg's tuk-tuk was bright yellow and he trailed behind us everywhere Juan went. It was very Pink Panther. 

The family really loved Lisbon, with its colors and friendly folks. We moved one step closer to pivoting the future family compound to being one in the Portuguese countryside with "12 bedrooms and views of the sea." (-Dad) Everyone wants to go back to really explore, and I wholeheartedly support this. What else is there to do? Work? Bleh. 

In upcoming posts I will outline our stops with notes on family behavior patterns and highlights. I continued my biological study of Ellen, watched Dad tumble into a light depression, and observed the Leisure Club: the Silver Years. 

More to come. 

Alex & Jessie Get Married

Back in September, after 86 years of being engaged, Alex and Jessie finally got married up in her hometown of Cooperstown NY. There's a whole bunch to the tale of this weekend we got to spend up there, which by the way, is like a fake little movie set town. It was colorful, flowerful, and had perfect weather. Everyone seemed to know everyone (and their business) and also, the place is on a lake. What a dream that Cooperstown is. 

Anyways, Brett and I got to town on Thursday because I was the florist for this celebration and I had prep work to do. Jessie's step-Dad, Frank, picked us up from the airport in Albany and drove us the hour to Cooperstown. We've met Frank once before we he came to Charleston to visit Jessie and we really liked him. We even adopted a phrase of his, "chilly willy penguin bones!" during that visit that we still shout when we're cold. But on this hour together in the car, Frank and I fell madly in love. He's so accidentally endearing and funny while he finds me witty and engaging. Brett is also part of this love triangle, as he has no end of oddball questions that Frank always has interesting answers for. We were a happy trio all weekend and often times we would catch Frank's eyes from across the room and then we'd all twinkle at each other. What a great welcome to the wedding weekend. 

There is no end to the things that went on over the next few days. Brett and I joined a family dinner on the lake, visited the town coffee shop, had the best tomatoes we've ever eaten, and also he picked me up, hung me by my ankles and then spun in circles. It made me so sick that I lost my color and had to sit extremely still for two hours. Jessie was very worried about me. Brett experienced great remorse. That's the worst I've felt in a long time. 

Now back to those tomatoes. Jessie's mom, Maryann, grew them and she had no idea they were anything special at all. We were just making a quick lunch when Brett sliced and tasted a tomato and his face contorted into something I haven't seen. He looked down at the tomato and I realized he was having a religious experience. " Lue, you have to try this," he said in disbelief. He was right. It was unlike any tomato we've ever had. We looked up at Maryann.
"What is this?"
The tomatoes?" she asked, "I don't know. I got the plant at Lowes." We asked Frank and Maryann if they've ever had tomato pie. "No, what is that?"

"It's like a pizza after it does a semester in the South," I explained. So the next day, Brett whipped one up for us... I mean, them.... he and I ate most of it.

We go on to take the seeds from those tomatoes home with us. We have high hopes and low expectations for planting them this Spring.

We stayed with Jessie's folks for the back half of our long weekend, and Maryann setup a makeshift flower shop for me in the garage, so I processed and sorted flowers as soon as they were delivered on Friday so that I could go meet Alex and Jessie's friends for bonfire night at the brewery. There were a handful of events like this one before the wedding on Sunday and they were so much fun that Brett and I wound up feeling a little dejected. We wish we had people like these living close by in Charleston. Everyone was so joyful and open-minded and creative. "Maybe we need to move someplace... more alive?" Also, us bachelorette weekend gals were reunited and it was so much fun. It was very interesting to meet each of the gal's other halves and then transpose the stories we told about them onto the person before our eyes. Lydia and Brett were on the same page right away and took to some witty banter that carried on throughout the weekend. I enjoyed just listening to them play off each other. 

I spent the days working on flowers and the evenings celebrating with the friends. Brett mostly stuck around to help me but he did go off to a few occasions that I didn't have time for. We had a greenery fiasco that threw an extremely stressful wrench into the ceremony decor plans. First the greenery delivery was delayed one day, then two, then I found out it wasn't coming at all. I feigned like it was no big deal in front of Jessie and Maryann, but then I'd grab groomsmen by the elbows and inform them that they were going foraging in the morning. A handful of the agreed but then the daytime proved to be too exciting and no one showed up. Brett went foraging on his own, dressed head to toe in tickproof clothing borrowed from Alex. I've never loved a man with his pants tucked into his socks more that I did that day. I was very stressed and it's awful to be the only stressed person on such a celebratory whirlwind weekend of fun.

Finally the big day rolled around, and so did some big grey clouds. Don't it figure? We watched the radar all morning - it was grey out but it wasn't raining. Even though I had some flower business to install before the ceremony, I spent the morning with all the girls getting ready at Maryann's house. Other than the weather concerns, it was a cheerful, slightly queazy vibe in the house and all the gal's took turns having their hair done. I was very excited to have my hair done. I don't know how to fix my hair but I love a little curl on the bottom and a bit pinned back on the sides - so that's what I asked for and that's what they did. I loved it and felt very pretty.  

When the time came, I slipped out of the house and dashed over to the venue to build two flower columns. I had exactly enough time to do this, jump into my dress, and then meet the bridal party for photos. Well it dumped rain on my fresh $90 hair-do while I was out there in the elements tucking in daisies. I became enraged. The ONE time I paid money to have my hair look nice. I didn't even pay for nice hair on MY wedding day. Also, I was cold and alone. Alex and the groomsmen arrived a pinch ahead of schedule so Brett came down to the lake to find me. He saw my wet rat hair and look of distain and sent me on into the venue to get dressed. He finished flowering the columns for me, and I don't think I've ever loved a man in a bow tie and rental suit more than I did that day.

I dashed up the stairs of the museum and into the "Bridal suite." It was empty in there which was nice for me except that I had no one to zip up my dress. I put my head under the hand drier and had to take out the little hair pins that had previously held up so much potential. Now they were loose and tangled. I put on my dress, changed my shoes, and then stuck my head out into the hallway. It was a medieval art exhibit. 

"Hey," I said to a nearby couple, "excuse me?" They both turned their heads with raised eyebrows. "Would you mind zipping me up?" They looked at each other as if they didn't know who I was talking to. "You please, the girl." I stepped into the threshold and turned around, presenting her with my vulernabitily. "Thank you," I said. "There were supposed to be a bunch of girls in here but I guess I'm running late." Well I'll go ahead and tell you that the strange girl couldn't or wouldn't zip me up. She gave it a gentle tug and when it didn't budge she gave up. 

"It's not going to zip," she told me as if I knew this already and was in denial. Frankly I was shocked. I had put the dress on many times before this day and knew that if anything, I had too much room up top. 

"It will," I told her, "You just have to give it a good tug." She gently tried agin. "Just pull it!" I said. 

"It won't go. I'm sorry." And then she left me there in the hallway with the back of my dress flopped open. She grabbed onto the arm of the embarrassed-for-me man she was with and they hustled down the hall as if I was a potential threat. 

I stepped back into the dressing room and called Brett, but he didn't answer. When it was time to take matters into my own hands, I spun the dress around backwards, zipped it up (effortlessly, I might add) and then began the task of spinning it back around again. This is when desperation kicked in. I crouched down into a low squatting position and reached as far around myself as I could, then I yanked and yanked. I took a few breaks in there to catch my breath and I pulled a strange muscle in my neck, but eventually I got all tucked in and had too much room in the front still, thanks very much gallery girl. I dashed downstairs, looked everywhere for the bridesmaids, found no one, and then sat on the front porch for 20 minutes waiting like a damp damsel who was ditched by her prince. The girls were very late. Guests began arriving and and hiding from the rain in the museum while the groomsmen had their pictures taken. I was so amped up from the frantic flower installation and dress wrangling that sitting quietly on a bench when the wedding was supposed to start in 5 minutes had me all kinds of anxious. 

Eventually, about half and hour late, Jessie trudged down the muddy aisle and our two favorite friends got married overlooking a lake in the rain. 

The rain took the pressure out of the wedding ceremony. With expectations of perfection off the table, everyone relaxed and laughed and joked about the soggy mess of a day. Alex and Jessie both have ties to Scotland and went to Scotland for their honeymoon so we all found it fitting that they would have "a very Scottish day." Speaking of which, a bagpiper played us out as we all trudged back up the hill. 

I just really love this picture. 

The rest of the day carried on like a big celebration should. Eating, dancing, speeches, etc. So I'll just leave a handful of photos as the celebrating carried on. 

As for Jessie's bouquet, I felt it was very important that it "represented" her; all bright and earthy and colorful. I selected the best flowers in the bunch and I hemmed and hawed and reshaped and tweaked and tucked and pruned and added...

Brett was harassing me to finish it so we could go join the rehearsal dinner, which was at a greenhouse full of flowers and twinkle lights. A brilliant idea. 

She loved it. Alex said it looks just like her. 

Please note; those are not all my drinks, and look at the water line on my dress. 

It stayed damp alllll night long.

The weekend ended with a farewell brunch at Maryann's and then Frank drove us back to the airport. It was a doozie of a weekend; a real emotional roller coaster for everyone - but especially Brett who had to contend with my greenery panic. We were exhausted when we got home but also thrilled for our precious friends.