Adventures In The Classroom Part 4: More Lesson Planning, A Cracked Windshield, And Lots Of Coffee

I love writing; however, every time posting day comes around for my beloved blog, I spend way too much time trying to be half as creative as all the aesthetically pleasing bloggers and photographers I follow on Instagram. I know that I fail when it comes to positioning and color coordinating, but I tried, and that’s all that matters. Plus, I haven’t left my house in two days, and I’m eyebrow-less so a selfie was off the table. No one wants to see me in the flesh without my brows, but I digress.

While I did spend a good 45-minutes trying to capture my life for the past four weeks in a cute photo, I was also very productive over my long weekend. I planned and I ran errands and I cooked – I’m like the perfect little housewife … except that I’m a working woman as well because why settle when you can attempt to do it all with only a semblance of insanity.

All sarcasm and jokes aside, I accomplished a lot and I still have so much more to do. I decided to take a little break to reflect on my week of actual insanity because it sounds like I’m making it up, and I’m aware of that fact. Just know that this is entirely true and speaks to the kind of luck I have. Let me set the scene for you …

I finally figured out Spotify. For years now, I’ve suffered with Sirius XM and just straight radio, and it’s pretty terrible. So, I took matters into my own hands and downloaded what is now my favorite car accessory. I have such a strange car playlist because just the other morning I jammed out to High School Musical, Queen, and Panic! at the Disco on the way to school; I was one happy camper.

On my way to work after I made a bajillion copies after school because that is now what my life consists of – 400 copies and an hour wait time – I plugged in the aux cord and started rocking out with the bass thumping. And then I got a call from my mom; so, I was facetiming her – because she flew to England to help my brother pack up his house, which is a story for another time – and I noticed that rock salt was hitting my car.

Now, this is a typical occurrence because Ohio weather is crazy and while this was a warmer day, the polar vortex decided to make a pit stop in my college town the day prior. Therefore, I’m used to rock salt and loose pieces of gravel hitting my car. As the pebble-sized pieces of solid salt pelted my car, I told my mom verbatim, “I swear, I’m going to soil my pants if this cracks my windshield.” (I’m sure you know what I actually said, and I’ll leave it at that.

We continue chatting, or rather I continue ranting about my day. I really need to invest in a punching bag to exert all my anger and frustration, but that is also a story for a later date. Not even two minutes later, I glance in my side-view mirror on the passenger side of the car, and that’s when I see it. This is when my week went from a six to a negative two really quick.

There was a crack that went halfway across my windshield. Immediately I start unleashing every expletive I have in my verbal repertoire because if you avid readers don’t know already, I curse like a sailor in my daily life. My mom was laughing hysterically because I literally spoke that tragic inconvenience into existence and then had to pay three-hundred dollars to get it fixed.

In case you were wondering, my life is still in shambles. At least I wasn’t having a meltdown on the highway because of a spider in my car. However, I did have a meltdown when I thought I spotted a cockroach in my apartment. I was paranoid for days because I was convinced that I would wake up with one on my cheek or a thousand swarming me. It turns out that it was a beetle and I’m insane, which is nothing new. I overreact for everything in my life.

Take teaching. I spent so much time fretting over trying to fit in all the materials before my time in the classroom is over, and I’ve just now realized that I can take my time because I’m only one human. (And yes, I will continue to refer to myself as a human for effect because I can.) I’m also feeling a little sassy these days, which is normal for me, as well.

But, before I wrap up this insight into my life, I have one work story to unleash unto the world, and of course it involves a man … actually two men, but they’re unrelated. I was just reminded of something that keeps happening, and I’m still not sure whether I should take it as a compliment or an insult because I’ve had people react both ways when I recount these small tales.

This week, another guy told me that I look like Adele, and this is like the tenth time I’ve been told that by men ranging from my age to eighty and in settings ranging from snapchat to work. Like I said, compliment or insult? I may never know. But, back to the regularly scheduled creepy guy tale.

It was a Friday night, and I had to close at work … my favorite. I was in the men’s department … also my favorite, and I was almost done folding down the floor. I was minding my own business, cleaning up the natural disaster that slobbish men left behind after rampaging through the clearance racks when a random dude approached me. He asked me what the measurements mean when associates measure men for a dress shirt.

Now, I thought that the question had an obvious answer, but I told the gentleman anyway. He nodded and stared at me, saying nothing. I waited an awkward three seconds and then proceeded to ask him if he wanted to be measured, hoping that he would say no. Of course, he said yes, distracting me from my night of as little human interaction as possible. I then had to go on the hunt for a tape measure, and when I returned, the doe-eyed male hadn’t moved from his spot. It is important for context that you remember that he was holding a three-pack of socks with beavers on them.

I measured the guy, relaying the numbers. I’m short; so, picture little old me trying to reach up to measure this guy as he does nothing to help me. After relaying the measurements, I started to walk away, and he said, “I think I figured out why people steal one pair of socks out of the pack.”

I was like, “excuse me?” And he began telling me in detail how and why he would steal a pair of socks. He then held up the pack in his hand and said, “Take this pack for example. I would steal the pair with the beavers on them because my last name is Beaver (insert awkward chuckle).”

I just kind of looked at him, and he said that he was debating buying the pack in his hand. And here I was thinking that he was one of those thieves that tells you the crime before they commit the crime. In an attempt to shoo this guy away from me, I told him that I’d buy them because they’re cool, which was true. He then told me that he’d consider it, and then he proceeded to linger around me as I worked for a good twenty-five minutes. He eventually bought the socks and told the exact same story to the cashier. Poor girl. I love when things like this happen at work because then I at least have something to write about.

My week was crazy as usual, but I got through it in one piece and three-hundred dollars poorer. I love my life, and coffee managed to get me through the ups and the downs once again. I cannot wait to see how this week unfolds because it’s almost a guarantee at this point that insanity will ensue and a story will unfold. Stay tuned for more adventures in the classroom!

Adventures As A Classroom Teacher Part 3: Tears, Laughs, and Copious Amounts Of Coffee

I never expected to cry after a day in the classroom. It came out of left field, and I was frustrated in myself for letting the day’s events eat away at my resolve and make me feel inadequate. I learned more about teaching this week than I have in four years of undergrad. I learned that I was correct in choosing my vocation because I was hand-crafted to be an educator. I learned that I am fortunate enough to have the life that I have. And I learned that there will be many more good days than bad days because I have great kids with great hearts in all of my classes who will at times test my patience.

The week began at a low point. I was trying to play catch-up with the students after three snow days. Fun fact: I hate playing catch up. I had to cut instructional materials just to make sure that students were able to complete the most necessary aspects of a week of proofreading and revising papers. It was a crazy two days to say the least.

Midway through the week, I began teaching the preliminary materials for an extended unit on King Lear, which is one of my favorite Shakespearian plays. While I was stoked to finally teach what I have been preparing for, I had low expectations for excitement from my students. Boy, was I wrong.

At first, it was like pulling teeth to get my students to focus on the extensive notes about Shakespeare and drama before we could even read the complex text. They looked at me like I was crazy for insinuating that they would be responsible for reading a 411 year-old play, and to top it all off, they have this uncanny ability to frustrate me to no end with their continual use of their mobile devices. I kid you not, I have some students who will blatantly bring out their phones and hold conversations as I am trying to teach.

I learned really quick that incentives go a long way with tweens. As soon as I mentioned the possibility of donuts in two weeks, it was all “Yes Ma’am, we’re all ears.” Once they actually started paying attention, the mood in the room shifted. I managed to get sophomores excited about a play that typically wouldn’t be taught to sophomores. I am so excited that they are pumped to play feuding brothers and vindictive sisters; it was the high of my week.

These groups of students taught me so much about myself. I love falling into the self-doubt black hole where all I can accomplish is an ample dose of overthinking my abilities. When I was at my lowest, they showed me that I sparked an interest in them, which is all I can ask for. Plus, they’re retaining information, which is an essential tool when reading this dense of a text. I’m so proud of the growth that I already see in them because even though at times the effort doesn’t reach the intelligence, at least now they see that I’m in their corner. I want them to succeed, and I will do anything in my power to guide them to a self-reflective success that they all deserve.

While my students are receptive now, I still have to garner their attention for the next five weeks. Can I do it? Absolutely. Will it be difficult? Absolutely, but I am ready for the next challenge that teaching has queued up to make my life a tad more difficult.

Speaking of difficult, I just finished planning my EdTPA mini unit, which is a requirement for some universities and some employment opportunities. I begin teaching this mini unit this week, and I am oddly excited to enter the realm of character development and analysis with my students. It will be a challenge, but not one that they cannot show improvement and growth with by the end of the week. We also get to begin acting out the play in class, and my students are so excited to see the plots unfold before their eyes.

I never expected to love my job as much as I do now, especially after shedding some tears. I never expected to love planning for an average of 20 hours a week, especially after so many failed attempts. The lesson: never stop pursuing your dreams no matter how hard it gets or how low you feel. I still love teaching, and my students make it so much more worthwhile.

As I stood in front of the room a few days ago, I stumbled over my words, and a girl giggled, which made everyone else buckle over in side-stitching laughter. Instead of reprimanding her or getting mad, I chuckled along with them. I decided to use my mistakes as an example – to show them that it’s okay to laugh at yourself every once in a while. She apologized, and I told her that I would have laughed if I were in her position. That little moment of laughter gave me the insight I needed to build an even stronger rapport.

I was made for this, and I’m sure the next few weeks will prove even more eventful and exciting. There is a guarantee that I’ll cry some more; so, stay tuned. Coffee has propelled me through each and every bad day, and my steaming mugs will remain a staple as I continue my adventures as a classroom teacher.

Adventures In The Classroom Part 2: The Life Of A Student Teacher

Teaching is hard. It is probably one of the most taxing experiences on the mind, the body, and the soul ... but it's worth every ounce of stress and anxiety. I can't tell you avid readers how many times I've been told that I'm crazy for picking high school for my certification, that I should switch to early childhood or middle childhood, that I should have picked a different profession.

I'm proud of myself for never listening and succombing to the peer pressure. It has been a crazy two weeks. I've laughed, and I've cried, but most importantly, I've learned from my mistakes. One thing I wish I would have known before beginning my adventures in the classroom is that you will fail a hundred times before you find something that works for your students. Don't get me wrong, I had some idea of failure ... but not a failure like I've seen: revisions upon revisions, student misunderstandings, and frustrating assignments.

Just to put my job as a student teacher into perspective, let me set the scene for you ...

As temperatures dropped to below-freezing, little old me sat wrapped like a burrito at my desk, taking advantage of three much needed snow days. I sat at my desk, uninterrupted save for meals, for 10 straight hours that first day planning a curriculum for King Lear, my favorite Shakespearean play. Actually, I planned some preliminary materials and Act I; I still have a long way to go.

The point is that I made progress, and I have so much respect for those who have ever planned curriculum for a unit, a play, or a novel study. Teaching takes so much time out of my life that finding a healthy balance is difficult. I'm only three weeks in; so, I'm still trying to figure out my schedule.

However, I'm having so much fun tapping into my creative genius, finding interactive ways for students to connect with a 411-year-old play. You would be surprised at how relevant the themes are to our modern society. I cannot wait to start teaching one of my favorite pieces of literature this upcoming week to a sea of eclectic learners.

While planning and finishing other assignments for my night class, which is a story in itself, but I'll allow a quick digression, I've of course had things go terribly wrong. In addition to student teaching, I have to complete an added portfolio, called EdTPA. If you've never heard of this headache and a half, it is a portfolio that consists of a pre-test, a three-day mini unit, a post-test, video evidence, and three lengthy commentaries. Mind you, this is all on top of my regular weekly planning and teaching. Talk about a stress overload.

As I was brainstorming ideas for my mini unit, I heard a very familiar sound coming from my bedroom. Wouldn't you know, the bird is back, and what I had assumed was a male is actually a female. You're probably asking yourselves how I could know a detail such as that, and it is because the dainty little creature fashioned a nest on the ledge underneath my air conditioner. So, for three days, it sounded as if the bird clan were trying to break into my toasty abode to escape the insane wind chill. If my EdTPA doesn't drive me crazy before May, the bird clan will.

Just this morning as I was bopping in my car on my way to work, a small feathered creature ricocheted off of my windshield and fluttered into the distance. They are literally coming for me no matter where I am.

I've had some wild experiences in the past few weeks, as well, just to be that sweet icing on top of the cake of life. It has been so cold and icy that one morning as I was trying to uncover my car from the igloo it was buried under, my ice scraper snapped in half. I have yet to buy a new one. My hands are so dry ... actually, let me rephrase. My right hand is so dry and cracked that it looks like it belongs to the 95-year-old side to my persona, and my left hand is so soft and smooth that it looks like it belongs to the 22-year-old side to my persona. It's been great trying to remedy the one portion of my body rejecting youth, but I'm working on it.

I also encountered an entitled woman at the copier one morning as I prepped necessary supplemental materials for my students. I will eventually be teaching 109 students; therefore, I had to make as many copies for the mini unit I taught last week. This woman was so mad that someone from the English department had the audacity to make copies of supplemental materials for her students.

She huffed and began to walk out when I called her back in to use the machine before I moved on to the next item. She didn't even thank me, nor did the three other educators who made copies before I could finish what I had started. I cannot wait for another chance encounter Monday morning when I prepare all of my materials for the week, because spoiler alert: I have even more materials this week. They're all going to hate me by the end of the semester, but no matter, I'll make it through in one piece.

Even though teaching and planning is taking every ounce of my energy, I'm trying really hard to keep the updates coming because I love documenting those little insights that shape my life. Coffee as always is my tried and true companion, and together we're taking on the classroom one day at a time. Stay tuned!

Adventures As A Classroom Teacher Week 1: Lesson Planning, Reflecting, And Coffee Of Course

After twenty days road tripping through Europe and the UK, my body attempted to reject any ounce of work I tried to accomplish, which includes both school and my job. I started student teaching about a week ago, and while it has been a little intimidating, I am beyond thrilled and excited to start this next chapter.

I finally finished my portfolio, which wasn't such a daunting task, save for my continual procrastinstination of the finished product. I'm grateful that I have a website of my own, because without the blog, I'm not sure I would've known how to fashion an e-Portfolio. It came along, slowly but surely.

What I am most excited for this final semester of undergrad is lesson planning. I thoroughly enjoy crafting the most insane and probably too in depth lessons and activities because English is fun. When was the last time your classroom turned into an escape room? How about the last time you participated in a court room debate based on a completely fictional murder case? Never, well guess what? I created materials for a week-long activity very similar to this one four years ago, and I'm contemplating teaching it this semester to various groups of sophomores.

The most challenging part of preparation lies in choosing the appropriate texts as the basis for lesson creation. I spent many hours surfing the web for lexile scores and differing genres. I read book reviews and pulled from my own personal library - mind you, I was doing this all while traveling. I'm still piecing things together, but I am beyond excited to start my teaching career.

It has been an experience to say the least. My collegiate journey has been anything but easy. It was, and still kind of is, a rollercoaster, but it is the best dang ride. For those who may be confused, here's why:

I learned how to be an adult at an alarming rate. I've lived on my own for two years, and while it did wonders (I hope all you wonderful readers caught the sarcasm) for my anxiety at first, I've grown to love my own space.

I learned how to manage my time. I've balanced work and school so that I could afford the lifestyle I wanted ... with the love and support of my parents when in times of need.

But most importantly, I learned how to love myself and grow into the beautiful sunflower I am today. I did my own thing and simultaneously proved others wrong, which only ever serves as an added benefit.

As I sit here reflecting on the past few weeks, I feel at peace. I spent about 12 hours crafting two lesson plans, and I'm not going to lie, I reached a low point. I felt like anything I did wouldn't be good enough for the classes I will gradually take over for the next 12 weeks. Their learning will be in my hands, and that is actually the scariest thing I've encountered. However, I have a fantastic cooperating teacher, and i just have a feeling that I'll be okay.

During my busy life, I have also started the job hunt because this girl does not want to spend a year not doing what I've worked so hard for these past four years. This process is definitely an added stress, but I know that there is a plan for me. I'm trying to be proactive and think positive, and you know what's going to get me through the next 12 weeks? If you guessed coffee, you'd be right on the money.

Stay tuned for my adventures as a classroom teacher because I'm sure these kids will attempt to give me a run for my money. But, if you know me on a personal level, you're aware that I won't let that happen. Here's to lesson planning my life away and swimming in a vat of coffee to stay sane amidst teen angst and meme references. Cheers!

Adventures in Europe Day 19: The Flights Squared

The soul-shattering, earth-defying screech of my alarm clock infiltrated the early morning air signaling that it was time to leave for the airport. I was not thrilled. I needed more sleep and a vat of coffee to keep me sane because it is no shock that these last flights were nothing but trouble. Let us start at the beginning, shall we ...

We all piled into the turd for the final time - oh how I will miss his uncomfortable seats, temperamental cooling and heating system, and his undeniable ability to jerk us around every turn, as if we were strapped into the most intense roller coaster.

We made it to Gatwick Airport in London in record time, exactly two hours before take off. I will not miss sitting in airports, let me tell you. Fun fact about Gatwick: about a week prior, a couple had been illegally flying a drone on the flight line, and all flights were delayed for two days. I'm ecstatic that nothing that drastic occurred, but I was still expecting the worst.

As we arrived, we checked our bags, and low and behold, mine was assigned an "extra heavy" sticker; like, excuse me kind lady behind the counter, but I will not stand idly by as you body shame my luggage. Sure, she's a chunky girl because I had to buy even more clothing when my luggage was lost, but she's more than just extra weight. She was my heart and soul on this trip; she helped me look extra cute in all my photos. She deserved more than that identification sticker, but no matter, at least she actually made it home with me, but we'll get to that in a moment.

After baggage check-in came security, and this is where the trouble begins. All of our personal items and carry-ons had to be searched. Each and every one of us forgot that we somehow had small liquids in our bags. It was great almost having all of my intimates exposed for the entire airport to see. I loved that.

Once we made it through security unscathed, we attempted to find our gate, but had to wait because we had arrived way too early. To pass the time, we ate breakfast at a restaurant where I had an amazing iced almond milk latte. It might be my new favorite coffee drink. Eventually, we were told the gate and boarded the plane. The first plane was a wonderful 50 minutes, and I managed to squeeze in a nap. Again, wonderful. But, then we had a three-hour layover in Dublin. Now, this is where it gets interesting.

We did not have a gate yet; so, we had to sit in the "lounge," which was just a grouping of hard chairs in the middle of the airport. My dad purchased another coffee, and then checked the leader board type sign again, only to discover that we actually needed to go through customs.

We ventured all the way back to the first floor only to go through security again where my father had to throw out his barely touched cup of caffeinated bliss. We literally exited one plane to board another, and we had to be searched again. I was given the pat-down, and I really didn't appreciate it. Why me? Little old me in her stained white Keds and Yuengling sweatshirt - of course, I would be chosen for the search.

After that fiasco, we waited for another hour before take off. This was the worst plane ride of my life, and I've only been on a plane a handful of times. For starters, the rudest humans sat in front of us. The trio in front of my mom, me, and my brother decided that they were the only people who deserved comfort for the almost eight hour flight. The snobby mother reclined her seat all the way back to the point where she was literally laying in my mom's lap. Both of her children, who were small enough to not have to recline their seats, also leaned back super far. I think as a courtesy, no one should be allowed to recline. It's rude.

This was also a completely packed flight, and there were repeated announcements that only larger items like carry-on suitcases were permitted in the overhead compartments. This woman decided to put all of her smaller items up there, including a delicate painting. And then when she was asked to move it over or take it out of the compartment by the flight attendant so that another passenger's luggage could go there, she had an attitude. I was about ready to lose my mind.

Throughout the flight, she kept turning around to give us dirty looks; for example, every time we had to use the restroom. I'm sorry, my bladder is small, but I also said nothing about her son rocking his chair back and forth and disturbing my eight-hour binge session of House. But, the worst part of the flight occurred as we were deboarding the plane.

Hundreds of buckles unlocked and people began to gather their items. My family stood across our row, and my sister was in the aisle between our seats because my dad had to get down all of our luggage as well as some elderly women's luggage because they were seated around us. The woman in front of us kept shoving my sister because her children needed to get out of their seats and off the plane right at that moment. I'm surprised none of us socked her.

We finally got off the plane and touched the sweet, sweet ground. We waited about an hour for our luggage - at least all of it appeared on the belt. It would have been the unfortunate icing on the cake if even one suitcase was lost. It was now time to catch the van to the parking garage. After aimlessly walking around and arguing, we spotted the bus, hopped on, and made it to our car in record time.

The ride home was a long two hours, and at that point, we were all sick of each other. Overall, this was an amazing trip, and I am so grateful that we even had the opportunity to travel overseas. We ate, we laughed, and we hit many speed bumps, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

One of the best parts of this trip is the feedback on my writing. I decided to document every day mainly for family, so that they could keep up with our whereabouts. I can't tell you how fulfilling it is to hear people tell me how much they enjoyed the trip, like they embarked on the journey with us. Affirmations on my writing keep me focused on the craft. Today, someone asked me if I purchased a souvenir in every country, and the truth is that I didn't. I documented the entire trip - that is my souvenir. The Truth About Coffee has grown so much in the past year, and I cannot wait to see what 2019 has in store. The year has been pretty great thus far, but we're only on day four. Stay tuned, because I start student teaching in a little over a week; so, I'm sure I'll have many more stories to tell. Coffee kept me going for the past twenty days, and it will surely keep me alert and ready for anything that comes my way as I embark on the final chapter of my undergraduate career.

Adventures In Europe Day 18: Two coffees, Phantom of the Opera, and a Pickpocketer later ...

I love when we attempt to travel without any direction or sense of how to pay for public transit. But before I get to this first mishap, let's recap last night ...

We stayed out way past my bedtime, considering I'm normally tucked in with a cup of tea by 9:30 p.m. at the latest. Taking the tube is an atrocity when people are stumbling about, barely lucid amidst the masses. I was squished against the terrifying doors behind both of my parents. It was a blast.

It took us a few tries to make it home, and we breached the threshold at the ripe hour of 3:00 a.m. I couldn't fall asleep for the life of me - I was wired - which is exactly why I don't go out. I'd never sleep in a semi-normal fashion.

Eventually, I dozed off, until I was rudely awoken by my father at 10:00 a.m. Oh, how I wish I could have slept on that slab of concrete for a bed for just a few hours more.

We gathered our bearings, slapped on some eyebrows and sparkly eye shadow, because why not, and walked to the bus station, sans pounds (the only currency acceptable in the UK). Two ventures into a convenience store to gather some coins, which we didn't even need because the buses only take a prepaid card, and we still didn't have transportation into the city.

Therefore, we had to walk fifty-minutes to the nearest tube station. Now, I need coffee in my system to function at a normal level. Update: As I sit writing this little slice of my life, I still have not sipped on that sweet, sweet steaming nectar, and it is 12:31 p.m. I'm a little irritated because the tube ride is about an hour, and we also haven't curbed our hunger, yet. Hopefully we make it without killing each other, namely me.

Second update: we found food, and I had my coffee. Now, I can level up to optimal functionality for the rest of the day. The only downside to lunch was that my macaroni and cheese was made using some sort of truffle butter; therefore, a distinct stench attached itself to the delectable pasta. I have to consistently chew gum for the remainder of the day for fear of causing mass destruction with the toxic fumes.

After lunch, we hopped back on the tube in the direction of Westminster, which is where I will get the chance to see the London Bridge. It overlooks the city and feeds into my English addiction because British literature is where my favorite works reside. I am a literature junkie, and this was my one and only demand for this trip - that I got the chance to chill with my home boy Thomas Hardy ... in spirit. Actually, my other demand was coffee every morning, and we can all see how well that endeavor has gone over the course of these twenty-ish days.

I am now on my second coffee of the day in preparation for Phantom of the Opera on West End later tonight. I've wanted to see this show for some time, and I finally get to experience the magic that is a musical performance once again.

After sipping coffees and nibbling pastries, we decided to walk to Her Majesty's Theatre. But first, we thought it best to take a detour that would give us a prime view of Buckingham Palace. Of course, my minuscule bladder was crying for release due to the two coffees I consumed today. It was quite the walk to the theatre, but because it was still a bit too early to enter, we stopped for burgers and shakes conveniently across the street. Well, some of us ordered shakes and others opted for alcohol.

Once we finished our meals, we headed back across the street and entered the theatre. This was one of my favorite broadway-esque performances. The singing was beautiful, the acting was on point, and we sat in a loopy row trying not to let the drowsiness take over.

When the curtains closed, we left the theatre and took two tubes and a bus back to our lodging. While on the second tube, a scraggly blonde man tried to pickpocket my phone right out of my back pocket as he was leaving the train. Before he could swipe it completely, I turned around and grabbed it out of his hand. I don't know what I would have done if he'd actually taken it right under my nose.

Today was a success, and good riddens it was because we fly home tomorrow morning. I've loved my time in both Europe and the UK, but I miss my cats and my dog and my memory foam pillow. I'm sure our flights tomorrow will be eventful, so stay tuned.

Adventures In Europe Day 17: New Years Eve In London

We are probably the only group of now seven humans - there's that artistic license back at it again - who would attempt New Years Eve in London. Now, we still stick out like sore thumbs; so, it's been a great ride thus far. That's right ladies and gents, we drove from Dublin, Ireland to London, England - which took about seven hours including a three-hour ferry ride - on one of the busiest days of the year. But, before we even begin with that part of this epic tale, let us first rewind the tapes a little and focus on this morning. Let me paint the scene for you ...

We awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to smash this journey in record time. Of course, it did not go as planned, because why would anything proceed in a smooth fashion.

When we approached the car, my younger brother and I thought it would be quite fitting to put on a show by claiming that the car got clamped in the dead of night once again. Once the heart palpitations dissipated from our attempt at comedy, we clambered into the turd and drove to the ferry.

My mother decided to assume the role of big spender and reserved fancy chairs on the highest floor of the boat. These chairs were crafted of fine leather and overlooked the Irish Sea as we plunged along the choppy waters.

After a decent breakfast on board with some not-so-decent coffee, I crawled into my chair and took a three-hour cat nap. I needed the rest, but the dream I had felt so real. For some reason, I dreamt that a killer bee invaded the turd, and after I tried to squish it, the bee decided to release yet another bee. This one had a human face and kept stinging me in the eardrum. When I approached my mother, she told me to just deal with it. While it was only a dream, it sounded quite like something my mother would indeed say in that situation if it happened to occur.

Once we exited the ferry, we hopped back in the turd and drove to our lodging in London. This drive took way longer than it was supposed to, but hey, we made it in one piece.

We unloaded the turd, changed into our "party" clothes, and went to dinner first. While here, we ate and drank, just to get the party started. We then drove back to our lodging, called a cab, and headed to the nearest subway (or tube) station, which would take us into London.

To preface: I have intense anxiety when it comes to crowded social situations. It's not necessarily claustrophobia, but it comes close to it. The tube ride into the city wasn't as bad as the tube ride out, but we'll get to that little tidbit in a moment.

We hopped off the tube and walked like 30-minutes to the fireworks, which was where my anxiety hit full throttle. I did not want to get close to the mayhem - people stampeding to the front, drunk men yelling and singing, drunk women half naked and slurring their words. It was my literall nightmare, but once the fireworks display ended, we entered a bar and grabbed a drink or two, which was more my speed.

People are crazy on New Years Eve, which is why I never go out. I'm a homebody; I'd rather drink in the privacy of my own home then dodge puddles of urine and vomit while trying not to be harassed by those who have no concept of reality. I had more fun people watching than actually drinking, which is fine by me. That only means that I have more to write about.

Once we had our fill of the nonsense in the city, it took only two tries and 45-minutes to find a tube that would take us back to our starting point. We got there with barely any incidents ... I mean my eldest brother did open a random car door thinking it was our cab, but we're still living.

Will I ever do this again? No. Did I enjoy it? Yes. All in all, it was a great New Years Eve. Surely a first for me. This year itself has been a whirlwind of ups and downs, but I wouldn't change one experience because everything does happen for a reason. This is the year that I start my career, advance my writing, and move forward with my life. I wish all you avid readers the same - just know that hard work truly pays off in the end. Happy New Year!

Adventures In Europe Day 16: A Day In Dublin

Sleeping in after a long day is one of the most satisfying experiences known to man ... or at least to this irritable human. You see, there I go again with that annoying artistic license. We took our time slathering on makeup and picking out the perfect outfit for a day out on the town in Ireland.

The day was already off to a rough start because in both the UK and Europe, one has to purchase a particular charging adapter in order to refill that trusty battery on your mobile devices. Now, here is where the first roadblock occurs, and this is the most ironic term of the entire adventure to date.

None of the lovely adapters left by our host worked, or they took nine years to move our devices up five percentage points. Therefore, we were delayed just a tad. Finally, we grabbed our bearings and headed down the steps to the car. This is where we hit mass destruction.

The turd had been clamped. To park in this particular complex, we had to register the old turd with the parking spot identification number, but you see, our host only left a Irish number, and we can only call American telephone numbers. If we were to call an Irish number, roaming charges would activate, and the phone bill would be astronomically high for this month.

Expletives flew once again, and I merely laughed because it is literally like we're currently on the set of a more tame version of European Vacation, sans Chevy Chase and numerous vehicular incidents.

It took a few moments, but my mother paid the hefty fee to unclamp the car. Not even 30 seconds later, the parking lot services employee sped around the corner to #FreeTheTurd.

Once that situation diffused, we walked to a cute little restaurant for breakfast where I could enjoy an amazing cup of coffee. Somehow we happened upon this place as we were headed to the bus, which is where the story gets even better.

After dining and not dashing - because we definitely don't roll that way - we headed to the bus stop. This gem of a public transit operation was supposed to take us as near to our destination as possible, which was the Guiness Storehouse. Well, it wouldn't be a true European vacation if we didn't have to trek about 40 minutes through the city to reach our destination. Mind you, my sister and I wore heeled shoes today because apparently we'll do anything for fashion, like aggravate our bunyans and neuromas to the point of no return ... but, we'll get to that minor detail a smidgen later.

We did the self-guided tour through a mess of people, and of course, I was a literal hot mess. You see, I don't necessarily like beer, so picture little old me overlooking the beautiful city of Dublin trying to force a pint down and not activate my gag reflex. It was quite the scene, I'm sure.

Eventually, we finished drinking our beers, midday by the way, and walked back toward the shops in the center of the city. We did a little perusing and purchased a few knickknacks before finding a restaurant for dinner where we in fact consumed more alcohol. This is how I discovered that my tolerance lies more along the lines of mixed drinks and wine then the bitter taste of a cold brew.

We ate and we laughed, and now it was time to find another bus that would take us back to our lodging. We hopped on the bus and suddenly, it stopped. Apparently, the last stop was a 30 minute walk from our apartment. At this point, my feet were crying; they had reached their walking limit for the day, but I had to relieve my bladder; so, it was go time.

When I say go time, I mean everyone else attempted to speed walk through the dark, poorly lit streets, while I hobbled along at a grandmother's pace. How fitting.

I couldn't take the pain any longer - it felt as if fire ants were biting the bottoms of my feet while someone shoved a crumpled piece of paper between my big toe and my middle toe. I made everyone stop, ripped off my booties, and walked the remaining distance in my socks.

It was quite the day, but a fun day at that. Any day that begins with coffee is a good day in my book. Stay tuned for New Years in London - I'm sure the next two days will take the cake, and I'll have even more slightly disastrous but ultimately hilarious events to disclose.

Adventures In Europe Day 15: From Glasgow To Dublin

I awoke before dawn only to wait around to leave for the day. My father has an affinity for beckoning us into the morning sun in the most annoying way possible, by calling out our names one by one, piercing the beautiful darkness as we revel in a little rem cycle. I managed to get dressed and lightly paint my face in enough time to relax for about a half an hour until we loaded the turd and found a breakfast joint.

Breakfast, by the way, was great. My mother found a cute little diner-esque chain called Frankie & Benny’s where I was able to get a steaming latte and some waffles slathered in chocolate and bananas. I was in heaven. We also happened to be the only humans – and yes, I said humans because artistic license – sat in the restaurant bright eyed and bushy tailed at 8:00 a.m.

After breakfast we did a little shopping, and of course, I picked up a few things that I absolutely didn’t need. The real kicker to this story is that we drove 10 hours and didn’t really do anything spectacular in Glasgow because my older brother decided to nap until late last night; so, we weren’t actually able to go out on the town. It also didn’t help that instead of heading into the city today, we saw the absolute worst movie ever. Here’s a tip for all you avid readers – don’t waste your hard-earned cash on a ticket to Holmes and Watson. It was straight garbage, and we will never get back that two hours in the theater.

Once the IQ-draining attempt at comedy ended, we headed back to the turd and began the trek to the ferry that would take us to Ireland. The drive was absolutely beautiful; we drove along the Irish Sea bordering a wall of serene cliffs. I wish I could have captured the deer munching on some grass while perched on the tiniest rock ledge. All I managed to screengrab was the blurry semblance of an animal shape, but no matter.

We finally arrived at the ferry, and of course, when it was our turn to drive onto the awaiting ship, the car in front of us did not have any passengers in it; so, we had to drive around the car and make things more complicated. Once parked, we climbed several flights of steps and made ourselves right at home in the dining area for the two-hour boat ride to Ireland.

During this leg of the journey, I consumed two coffees, which made my motion sickness worse and gave my bladder a run for its money. My sister and I also had an impromptu photoshoot on the deck overlooking the sunset, which was so windy, I thought I was going right over the rail. Inside the cabin, one could hear the deafening bark of an unhappy little bugger of a dog, the screams of children, and various accents pervading the ear canal. All of this did not help with the motion sickness; at one point, my mother took off her shoes, claiming that it helped. New cure? The world may never know.

Eventually, we arrived in Ireland, ready for a real meal. We drove off the boat, and after a few attempts at finding a restaurant and not a pub, we landed on a place that fit the bill. We ate and drank … well, some of us drank. I opted for chocolate milk instead like a real child. We laughed and dined, and after finishing the bottle of wine my mother ordered, we hopped into the turd once again to make the last little bit of the journey to our lodging for the next two days. Now, this is where the story gets mighty interesting because it was the most disastrous part thus far. Let me paint the scene for you …

From the restaurant, it was about an hour and fifteen-minute ride to the next Air BnB. My brother programmed the address into the trusty GPS, and we made it to the exact address … located smack dab in the middle of the road. Now, clearly someone was in the wrong, and obviously it wasn’t us this time around. I kid you not, it took us over an hour to find the correct building. Expletives were flying, tempers were tested, and passive aggression bled through the walls of the turd into the vicinity. It also didn’t help that the owner of the wonderful apartment we are staying in decided to give the vaguest directions possible. It seems as if people do not like to reveal their exact location in this part of the world – it happened with the company that held our lost luggage hostage, and now this.

It looked like the three musketeers (my mother, my father, and my eldest brother) were attempting to break into various apartment complexes while also speaking at the highest volume possible. We drove up and down the same road about eight times, opened random sheds to find a mysterious key in a mug, and made various illegal U-turns. We were a hot mess of a family, but we made it and only at the ripe hour of 11:30 p.m.

At least I had three coffees to get me through the day, but the caffeine highs have faded leaving me deliriously tired; so, stay tuned for tomorrow’s adventures in Dublin. Grab your deliciously steaming mugs, and enjoy my family’s insane journey through Europe before it ends in a few short days.

Adventures In Europe Day 14: The Journey To Glasgow

Christmas in Brussels was beautiful. The enchanting mixture of decadent chocolate and fresh Belgian waffles was the perfect enticer to make us literally hike to the center of the city two days in a row. However, it was time to leave, and our next stop was my brother’s house in Eriswell, England before heading to Glasgow, Scotland, which is where I’m currently sitting and typing away at my trusty laptop. But before I disclose today’s eventful adventures, let me first take all you faithful readers back to last night. It all began in the kitchen …

We managed to gather a few necessities on base for dinner because we all needed a home cooked meal at this point. The plan was to make halupkis, Bombalki, and chocolate peanut-butter cake. Of course, this would turn into a semi-disaster. Halupkis require cabbage, cabbage that my mom normally wraps in saran wrap to slowly steam in the microwave. Well, she couldn’t find said plastic wrap, and instead, opted for a gallon-sized Ziplock bag, which feigned to cook the cabbage and almost short-circuited the microwave.

You see, ladies and gents, that wasn’t even the biggest issue. The real issue lied in the fact that my brother had invited his friends to eat with us, and now we were on a time schedule. Somehow my mom managed to cook the halupkis in a Crock Pot in record time, even though half of the cabbage wasn’t fully steamed beforehand.

While my mom worked on that dish, my sister prepped the Bombalki, which is by far my favorite dish on this earth, and I only ever get to eat it at Christmas time because it is a Slovakian tradition passed down on my mother’s side of the family. The dish essentially consists of baked dough balls and sauerkraut all mixed together to create what I look forward to every year.

I was in charge of the cake, which I baked to perfection; it was a surprise considering I completely botched the last dish I made for a friends potluck, but we’re not going to talk about that incident. Let’s just say that my egg substitute did not perform up to standard, and my cupcakes were straight trash.

Eventually, the guests arrived, and six loud Americans, my brother’s roommate, and three of my brother’s friends all crowded around a small dining room table feasting on the amazing food while chit-chatting. Once the plates were cleared, somehow I assumed the role of dishwasher and waitress, cleaning plates so that they could be reused for cake. So, dinner turned into dessert, and dessert turned into a lengthy game of Cards Against Humanity.

At first I didn’t join in – remember, I was playing the role of waitress. I also enjoy just watching people play that game because it is the most ridiculous showdown of random phrases ever, and it always makes me laugh. However, I did eventually join in on the game, which went way past my bedtime. Everyone knows that I’m 90 and an actual grandma on the inside and get all warm and cozy in my bed well before midnight. On a good day, I’m asleep by 9:30 p.m. I know, I’m lame, but that’s okay.

At one point during the game, my sister played a card with a singular word on it just to get rid of it because she had no clue what the word meant. Now, this word was rated “M” for mature; so, it will not be disclosed here. When my brother’s roommate read the card and started laughing (because it was a contender for the winning card that round), my sister asked what it meant, and the look my father had on his face as the roommate gave the urban dictionary level definition was priceless. I laughed so hard – almost as hard as the Frenchman saying, “the states, baby [bae-bae]!”

Like I said, the game went on and on, which is why the bags under my eyes this morning were Gucci level. Speaking of this morning, we left my brother’s house at about 6:00 a.m., which meant that I had to get ready for the day bright and early. I slapped on some eyebrows, grabbed my belongings, and hopped into the turd for the trip to Scotland. Now, here is where the story gets mighty interesting.

For some reason, a lot happens to us when we take road trips. For starters, we almost got pulled over by the police, meaning that the we thought the cop was pulling us over, when in reality, he was trying to go around us. My brother ended up getting in front of the car, and then the police had to go around us, and they were irritated. It was great.

Next, an AdBlue alert kept popping up on the car, and my brother was convinced that it just meant he needed to add more windshield wiper fluid. It turns out, he actually needed to add a chemical that would help the turd process gas slower. There was a warning that said the car would break down and need mechanical services if we did not refill the AdBlue; also, the chemical itself was toxic. If it managed to touch the skin, it would start burning flesh. Great, exactly what we needed: a potential break down and an emergency room run. In the end, we were fine, but it could have been a disaster.

Then, because a coworker of my brother’s suggested visiting Hadrian’s Wall in England on our way to Scotland, we decided it would be a great pit stop. Of course, we were wrong. You had to hike to the wall on a muddy track, and none of us had the proper attire. Plus, I had consumed so much coffee and water that I was about to explode; therefore, we had to do an illegal three-point turn in the middle of a country road to back track to the only establishment with a public restroom for miles.

After that fiasco, we stopped for food and made the last leg of the journey to our lodging in Glasgow. We stayed in and just relaxed because we were all exhausted. Tomorrow’s adventures should include more scenery and social experiences; so, grab your steaming mug, and stay tuned!

Adventures In Europe Day 13: "The States, Baby [bae-bae]!"

Early starts – waking before dawn and attempting to pull luggage across loose bricks – is the worst. And that is exactly what six loud Americans did this morning at the ripe hour of 4:00 a.m. We stumbled around in the dark, managed to look semi-presentable, gathered our belongings, and made the brisk walk to the car, which was significantly closer than the twenty-five-minute hike through Venice with hefty luggage.

I was eager to take a nap in the turd on the way to the Euro Tunnel, and that is exactly what I accomplished … until the absolute best thing on this trip happened, and it has become the new family slogan. Let me paint the scene for you …

We arrived at the gates to the tunnel well before our departure time, and as we were checking in on the kiosk, we were offered an earlier train. So, instead of leaving on the 8:36 a.m. train to Dover, England, we were upgraded to the 7:50 a.m. train. Feeling like complete rock stars because something was finally going in our favor, we proceeded to border control. Now here is where my favorite thing occurred.

After waiting in the lengthy line of cars, we made it to the man at the counter and handed over our passports. This man decided to inquire into our personal lives, attempting to extract every bit of our life story. All I have to say is why … but I digress. Then my father decided it would be a fantastic idea to open the door, allowing the freezing cold air to infiltrate the car, while holding a conversation with the man who had a thick French accent behind the counter. They chatted, and we froze. But then, the Frenchman handed my eldest brother our passports after looking at our home country and said, “the states, baby [bae-bae]!” I died.

We laughed for the rest of the journey back to my brother’s house, taking turns saying this iconic phrase. Stay tuned for next year’s Disabella Family Christmas card because it is definitely going to be sporting that three-word gem of an English exclamation.

We entered the mile-long line for the 7:50 a.m. train only to find out that it was cancelled. We were then placed back on our original train, which we didn’t even make it onto because the train reached max capacity with the car placed two in front of the turd. We were then redirected and allowed access to a train that left after our originally scheduled time, but we made it back in daylight hours, which is a win in my book.

We made one pitstop for coffee – of course, and eventually, we made it back to my brother’s base where we got the chance to meet a few of his coworkers. They’re all hilarious and welcomed this crazy family like we were one of their own. But, before we were allowed passage onto the base, we first had to get passes. We climbed out of the turd, entered the building, and an armed member of security forces apparated behind us, questioning my father and sister about photos they took of the sign above the gate.

Ladies and gents we do not need to bail anyone out of military prison (that would have been quite the turn of events); so, for future reference, never take a photo of a highly secure gate at a military base. Also, fun fact, my father was a Tech Sergeant in the Air Force; he should have known better than to almost compromise national security. Thankfully, they didn’t actually break any laws and were just lightly scolded by the nice man in uniform.

All-in-all, today was pretty brief. It consisted of car rides and the semblance of a coffee high; so, that counts for something, right? Stay tuned for tomorrow’s trek to Edenburg, Scotland. I’m sure our six hour and fifty-minute ride will become an all-day affair. Until tomorrow …

Adventures In Europe Day 12: A Museum Of Instruments, Sans Sound

A young man, Corona in hand, spots his mother grooving in her seat, sans music. He turns to her and inquires, “What are you doing?” Her reply, “I’m dancing in my head.”

If that little tidbit doesn’t set the tone for today’s adventures, then maybe this fact will. We walked about 10 miles round-trip yesterday, and after swearing up and down that we would not subject ourselves to this madness ever again, we did the exact same thing today. That’s right, ladies and gents, six loud Americans lumbered through the architecturally historic streets of Brussels for about an hour and a half all to go to the Musical Instrument Museum situated in the Old England building. But before I even talk about this adventure, because it’s saturated in some situational irony, let’s first shed light on this morning’s antics. Actually, let’s first take it back to last night …

We were exhausted after hiking uphill both ways to the Grand Place with its famous Christmas Market, and after high-tailing it through sketch central, we all needed some sleep. Everyone dissipated from the living area to perform their nightly routines, and I meandered back down to the couch, which is where I opted to sleep. Well, you see this couch is pretty massive; so, my mother ended up crashing on one side of the couch, my father on the biggest “ottoman” I’ve ever seen, and I stretched out on the other end of the couch.

I figured sleep would cast its shadow, and I would slowly sink into a deep slumber. Of course, this didn’t happen. I had also hoped that my parents would wake up and stumble up the winding and very dangerous staircase to their own bed. Of course, this didn’t happen either. Therefore, I had to listen to my mother deep breath so loud, it was as if you could hear the air mingling with every one of her organs, and my father’s supersonic snore. Mind you, I had headphones in, and I could still hear this impromptu jam session.

Eventually, they both found their way out of my makeshift bedroom, and I fell asleep … until I was rudely awoken at 7:00 a.m. by my father and younger brother. One was blasting foreign news stations and the other was face-timing his girlfriend. I needed my beauty sleep.

I started throwing massive amounts of passive aggressive shade, and I even plugged my ears; however, of course my efforts were a fail. It sounded as if both of their voice boxes were loitering on my eardrums. Needless to say, I slept until 10:30 a.m. – which I never do – and I was still exhausted.

Then, because we didn’t want to have to find a breakfast joint, we purchased cereal in those cute little multi-packs the night prior. Well, cute they were not. Each box contained about two spoonfuls of bitter Cocoa Krispies knockoff bits, and we were all still starving. So, we got ready and began the one-and-a-half-hour trek to the museum with plans to stop for a full meal along the way. I want everyone to remember the full meal detail – really let that saturate in your minds.

We had arrived at the museum without stopping for food because apparently Europeans only go out to eat in groups of two. I swear, every place we have stopped at that wasn’t “American” has been a bust because no one expects six loud American humans to enter their establishment in search of nourishment. I guess they expect us to pair off and pay even more gratuity, which is astronomical, by the way. Now, I’m a big tipper, but they tax every little thing; it’s nuts.

My eldest brother managed to find a place, which will remain nameless. As soon as we walked in, I knew that we were going to have to suck it up, because the coats were off and trays were now in hand. It smelled healthy, like someone was experimenting with all-natural substances. Fun fact, my family is not vegan or vegetarian, and this place was definitely closer to both of those on the spectrum of eaters than to us. Props to those who are vegan or vegetarian; it’s just not for us. We like our bacon way too much.

I grabbed a random salad without reading the ingredients – which I regret – a croissant, and some fruit and yogurt. The only thing I really liked was the croissant. The salad had some quinoa and raisins and bland weeds with a spicy kick that wasn’t all that pleasant, and I love spicy foods. It took two of us to finish my salad, because even though I tried to power through it, it just wasn’t for me. Also, we all wanted a full meal, and the rabbit food options we were presented with were the farthest thing from a meal. But, we ate it all without wasting a bit – I’ve already described my father and his need to never waste even a crumb.

After “lunch,” we headed into the museum, and my mother said no to the audio portion of the tour, which would have just been an audio guide … or so we thought. It turns out that the “audio guide” was actually just the instrumental aspect of each instrument. Once we stopped at each instrument display, the audio would play through a remote (if we would have said “yes”). Picture six loud American humans aimlessly walking up and down 10 floors of this instrument museum, not able to actually hear their original sounds. All to save a pretty penny …

Regardless, it was still pretty amazing to see the evolution of certain instruments, even interesting instruments such as the hurdy gurdy, which is oftentimes mistaken for the pipe organ. I also just really like that name; it made me chuckle. Once we left the museum, we walked back through the Christmas Market. Naturally, we purchased some of the same items as the day prior, like hot wine. I purchased some macaroons because I’ve been in search of the best, and I think I found them. Of course, my family ate two sleeves of various flavors in under five minutes, but it was worth it.

We finished up at the market and then made the lengthy walk back to our lodging. It was intense. We burned a lot of calories, and I’m hoping the strain on my glutes was worth braving the frigid air. We fell through the door, drank some brews, and ordered Dominoes because we needed food we could trust after our disappointing breakfast/lunch. At least I had my coffee this morning, because without it, I would have been a disaster to work with on the lengthy journey to a museum of sound where we opted for no sound. Until tomorrow …

Adventures In Europe Day 11: "White" Christmas

I was forced to sleep on the couch. Actually, let me rephrase; I opted to sleep on the couch because my only other option was to sleep butt to butt with my sister as she ground her teeth into little stumps. No thank you. Therefore, I snuggled into the not-so-comfy couch and let gravity force my eyelids closed as I fell into a deep slumber.

At about 5:00 a.m., I felt teeny tiny little pricks on my leg that eventually turned into intense nudges. My loopy brain was telling me that there was an intruder in the house and that I needed to slowly crack open my lids to catch a glimpse of the fiend. When I opened my eyes, I saw the fluffiest nugget of a cat making a beeline for my face.

For roughly two hours, I snuggled with two cats – Prince B and Princess B (insert the rest of the expletive) – I later learned that their names are actually Wham and Shadow and they’re sisters. Well, guess what? In my eyes, they’ll forever be the prince and princess that stole my heart and put me in the Christmas spirit. Speaking of Christmas spirit, today is Christmas, and you avid readers will never guess how my white American family spent the day. Let me paint the canvas for you …

Six loud and white Americans stumbled around the beautiful Air BnB attempting to look semi-presentable this Christmas morn. We did our makeup and applied intense red lips, while the boys slapped on some antiperspirant, dabbed on a little Chanel Blue, and called it a day. Oh, and the best part about this particular morning routine is that each of us wore an ugly Christmas sweater.

That’s right ladies and gents – all six of us could be spotting sporting the most ridiculous sweaters as we trekked to the famous Christmas Market in the center of the city. You see, after yet another breakfast of eggs and a random meat, we walked almost an hour and a half through the sketchiest part of the city to reach the market.

I want you to really picture six lumbering white humans in tacky sweaters walking through a pretty sketch area for over an hour. We stuck out like sore thumbs. Also, it was basically subzero outside; so, we were frozen solid once we finally arrived.

Upon arrival, we began looking at the various stands: Belgian chocolates and various homemade candies, ornaments, meat and cheese stands, hot wine and Belgian waffles … It was as if we were transported to the best place on earth, and after that hike, we truly needed it.

We shopped until we dropped, and of course we ate in the Wild, Wild West. Six loud white Americans sat around a table in the most dimly lit restaurant I’ve ever seen and ate burgers, salads, and beer while wearing obnoxious sweaters. We were a sight for sore eyes, and if you catch my Instagram, you’ll get to see the goofy sweaters up close and personal.

For those who may not take a peek, I’ll give a little verbal preview. There was a goat with a bell, a reindeer releasing a mint out the backdoor, a dinosaur and an ostrich wearing a scarf, Snoopy under rainbow lights, and a leg lamp. Like I said, ridiculous.

After our Christmas meal, we ventured out into the square where there was an amazing tree and beautiful cathedrals and architecture. In the middle of this square amidst hundreds and hundreds of people, we decided it was the perfect time for a photoshoot. People were laughing at us, and we didn’t have a care in the world. It was so much fun because we were just being us in the middle of a foreign city taking pictures that I’m sure will make next year’s Christmas card; so, stay tuned.

Once we were satisfied with the pictures, we walked the other half of the market and then made the hour and a half trek home. This was the most annoying walk of my life mainly because the creeps were literally emerging from every crevice. I’m pretty sure my sister and I were ogled and cat called numerous times while my dad bit his tongue because he was about ready to throat punch a sketchy dude.

Plus, it was getting dark really quick, and our legs were starting to feel the burn. I’ve exercised more on this trip than I have in the past six months, which is great, but I have no desire to make that walk again tomorrow. Hopefully, we find somewhere close to explore before heading back to Lakenheath, England because I’m weak and not entirely in the mood for more judgement and social anxiety.

All in all, today was great. We wore the sweaters, snapped some pictures, and had a grand old time walking ten miles roundtrip. Let’s just all be grateful that Alex had some decent coffee today, because this excerpt may have turned out differently. I hope all you faithful readers are having or had (depending on your time zone) an amazing holiday with family and friends. And if you couldn’t make it home, know that we’re wishing you the best holiday season. Drink your beverages by the chimney with care, because Saint Nicholas was there, and now you’re here reading about my “white” Christmas. Until tomorrow …

Adventures In Europe Day 10: The Journey To Belgium

Food portions are really starting to aggravate the six loud Italian humans as they progress through Europe. You see, half of the humans are male, and they consume more than the average homo sapiens, and the other half are hormonal females who just want to feed the angry stomach monsters and cure angst with a steaming brew.

They awoke this morning to the frigid home of a friend of the eldest brother and waited endless hours for proper nourishment. The family has been road-tripping throughout Europe; therefore, they have been toting minimal food items because the giant turd barely holds their copious amounts of luggage and physical forms.

Finally, the eldest brother emerged from his bed, and all four siblings piled into the turd and traveled to the Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany to stock up on the essentials, like toilet paper and antiperspirant and food. After yesterday’s travels to Eulenbis, Germany – a neighboring town to Ramstein – they were all in need of some normalcy. Let me take it back about ten hours so that you avid readers can truly get a sense of what went down …

What was supposed to be a nine-hour drive turned into an almost twelve-hour trek that not one person was ecstatic about. I discussed the trash tuna fish sandwiches from a gas station vending machine and the consistent lack of decent coffee. But, what I did not yet have the chance to discuss was how we somehow missed an exit for a restroom nearly five consecutive times.

I’ve said it many a time – I have a tiny bladder, and yesterday, I had consumed a lot of liquids, only one being a decent latte. Needless to say, I had to relieve my bladder, and my older brother kept missing the exits because the major highways are pitch black. There is zero lighting save for the occasional or never-ending stream of LED headlights blinding us for miles on end; there is really no in-between.

When my eldest brother finally calculated an exit correctly, he turned left instead of right and took us directly back on the highway. Therefore, we had to backtrack and eventually found a Burger King, which is where I was forced to post yesterday’s entertaining adventure through Austria.

As we sat eating a fattening and gross American meal – because dealing with the language barrier was even more grating than small portions – I uploaded the next installment while simultaneously scrounging through my photos in the hopes of finding one I hadn’t used yet. The reason I had to post from a random Burger King in Germany is because the place where we stayed last night didn’t have Wi-Fi, and not one rest stop has had a strong signal.

After our luxury five-course meal, we drove the last hour or so to Eulenbis where we drank wine and played Speak Out. It was hilarious, and gave us quite the distraction from having zero connection to the outside world. I finally had the chance to do a little reading before bed, and when I arose to the blinding sun, the four siblings went to base.

Once there, we purchased the essentials which included some coffee because up until that point, we had consumed nothing since the night prior. When we arrived back at the lodging, my mother made a splendiferous breakfast of eggs and bacon. Full and ready to take on the day, the family loaded the turd and headed to Brussels, Belgium.

It took a little less than four hours to arrive, and this journey consisted of much arguing and intense moments of silence, but we got through it. We stopped a few times, ate some interesting snacks including peanut butter and almond popcorn – I would highly recommend – and eventually arrived at the home where we would be staying for the next three days. It is a beautiful home, and it comes with a few furry perks. The owner has two indoor/outdoor cats, and we got the chance to snuggle with them for a little before they scurried off. They are the cutest little creatures, and I cannot wait to see my own precious felines after the holidays.

After a quick trip to a local supermarket, we cooked and ate chicken marsala and sat by the tree petting the cats and laughing about how crazy this adventure has been thus far. It is insane to me that today is Christmas Eve because it doesn’t necessarily feel like Christmas.

It is the first time we haven’t been in our childhood home for the holidays, and while it is pretty amazing to be in Belgium, we have to find some way to make it feel like the Christmas spirit is in the air. I’m sure we’ll find a beautiful church tomorrow for mass and a lovely establishment for dinner, but nothing will beat traditional foods at my brother’s house on the 27th amongst family and friends.

To all you avid readers, I hope you’re having a wonderful Christmas Eve with your families. Be merry, drink hot cocoa, cider, egg nog, and lots and lots of coffee. Stay tuned for tomorrow’s adventures as we take on Belgium. Merry Christmas!

Adventures In Europe Day 9: Lost In Austria

Travel days are the most taxing, especially when the day begins with a 25-minute trek through Venice to reach the giant turd of a van. Let me remind all of you avid readers that our Venetian Palace was located quite the mighty distance from our car; therefore, we had to tow all of our massive and weighty luggage throughout the city, up and down stone steps and bridges. The kicker, is that we faced this feat bright and early without any food or the necessary amounts of coffee to function at a proper level of intelligence and polite demeanor.

While this was quite the damper to our one-night stay, it was a great time in Venice. We had the opportunity to stay in a Venetian Palace overlooking the gondola filled water framed by twinkling lights. It was truly a beautiful sight; however, the irony lies in the fact that this family is the farthest from palace-status. We're a walking disaster waiting to happen, which made the stay that much more hilarious. I can't even count how many times we stubbed our toes on the fancy wood and marble floors or almost broke the fancy showers.  

Mind you, we were all still a little tipsy from the alcohol consumed during dinner. If you just so happened to be walking the cobblestone streets, you might have heard an awful and out-of-tune rendition of Shania Twain's "I Feel Like a Woman" as my sister and I performed our night time rituals and brushed our teeth in the massive bathroom. It was a freeing experience.

After we slept off the buzz, we awoke, got ready for yet another day of travel, gathered all the luggage, and began the long hike to the turd. It felt as if my shoulders were slowly tearing out of their sockets as the heavy luggage gradually tore muscles in my forearms. Needless to say, we have definitely been burning off all the the calories we have consumed on this trip thus far.

Eventually, we arrived at the parking garage and shoved the luggage into the minuscule elevator because for some odd reason, they told the biggest van to park on the eighth floor, which was the roof. The best part about this tiny tidbit is that my father had left his car door open all night, which gave any intruder easy access to half-eaten macarons and a bag of change designated for bathroom use only because public restrooms cost a pretty coin in Europe. Like either way, someone is going to have to pay: a euro for me to relieve my pin-sized bladder, or a puddle on the floor outside the restroom for the attendant to soak up because I didn't have exact change at the ready. But, I'm over that now.

We loaded the turd and now had to squeeze down the spiral lane all the way to the ground floor. The turd barely fit in the lane, and all the sharp turns gave me anxiety flare-ups. It was great.  

Now out on the open road, we began the journey to Ramstein, Germany once again as a quick little pitstop before heading to Brussels, Belgium for Christmas - emphasis on the "quick" because it was the farthest from that. This drive was the most insane roadtrip yet, and I blame my eldest brother because he wanted to take the route through Austria only for the sake of adding a 28th country to the list of places he's been.

The only perk was getting the chance to see the Alps in Northern Italy and Austria as well as Switzerland. Everything else was straight hilarious trash. Let me paint the scene for you ... 

Six loud Italian humans careened along a cliff in the middle of the Alps as "September" by Earth, Wind, and Fire blasted through the speakers and every member in the vehicle attempted to hit those falsetto notes. By the way, I despise this song, and somehow it has become the anthem of the trip, and if I hear it one more time, I might have to throat punch the one in charge of the music.

At this point in the trip, all we had eaten were dry gas station tuna fish sandwiches, sans decent coffee because the options were not stellar. The only chance to sip on some sweet, sweet nectar would have consisted of my father and I huddled with a bunch of foreigners sipping scorching espresso out of child's tea set mugs because there is no such thing as take out coffee.  

About halfway through the nine hour trip, we managed to uncover some Starbucks chilled lattes at a different gas station, which tickled our fancy after almost getting completely lost in Austria. You see, for some reason unbeknownst to us Americans, neither my brother nor my mother could receive adequate data from the cellular gods, and we were aimlessly driving without proper direction. At one point we almost drove through a dead end and had to back up the hill to the highway we had left.  

Not even ten minutes later, my brother asked my mother if he needed to go right, and she responded with an affirmative "yes." As soon as the tires left the white lines, she informed him that he was in fact supposed to stay straight. We drove through the same tunnel about four times both ways before finally finding coffee and snacks to tide us over until we reached our destination for the night. Hopefully we arrive without any more incidents, and if we don't, you avid readers will hear all about it tomorrow as we begin our Christmas in Brussels. Grab your steaming mug, and stay tuned for more European adventures!

Adventures In Europe Day 8: What Happens in Venice Stays in Venice, Right?

If you thought drunken Alex in Rome was an entertaining read, prepare yourselves for drunken Alex in Venice. Like I said before, I never drink; it is a very rare occurrence that you’ll find me sloshed in the corner with an empty glass save for one minuscule drop. However, I’ve managed to achieve a level of tipsy two days in a row, and I’m feeling good. Before I delve into that portion of today’s adventures, let us first begin with our early rise for the train …

At the ripe hour of about 5:00 a.m., six loud Italian humans stumbled around attempting to look presentable for a quick trip to Venice before heading back to Germany. We gathered our belongings – and I slapped on some eyebrows – before we clunked down the steps to await a taxi that would carry us to the train station.

We emerged onto the cobblestone street framed by twinkling lights, and our driver literally seeped out of the midnight oil, scaring us half to death. He smelled of harsh garlic and barely helped us catapult our luggage into the back of the van. After a migraine inducing ride to the station, we gathered our belongings and attempted to find the correct sign. Of course, our train did not have a departure lane yet; so, we walked all the way across the street at the opposite side of the station to grab a quick and convenient breakfast from McDonalds. Quick and convenient, it was not.

Outside of the five-star establishment, a brawl broke out between a few petite Italian women and their sketchy male counterparts. I don’t want to make assumptions, but they appeared to be arguing over and about some sort of illegal activity. It was the perfect altercation for six loud Italian humans to walk through, and my father was livid.  

I’ve already alluded to his up-tight stature, but seeing him deal with this particular atmosphere was not all that comforting. And it is no surprise that everything was already starting to go horribly south. Apparently, McDonalds does not serve breakfast food before 7:00 a.m., which makes absolutely no sense, but what do I know. Therefore, our options consisted of crap coffee, orange juice, and French fries. Half of us didn’t even receive our orders because the workers were horribly rude and negated to offer us the items we paid for because the sketch humans causing a ruckus outside were their number one priority. My brother ordered an orange juice and was handed Fanta soda instead, and my chocolate latte was all foam, no brew. Eventually, my father let another expletive fly, and we high-tailed it back across the street to wait for the train, sans acceptable nourishment.

This was also a hot mess of a situation because our train did not receive a departure lane until five minutes before we were to leave. My father was stressing, and we all needed proper nourishment and coffee, which was not an option at that moment in time. Finally, the train was assigned a lane, and we boarded. Now, here is where the story gets mighty interesting.

You see, we had barely slept the night prior. Actually, I had barely slept the night prior because I was writing until about 1:00 a.m., and I was up at about 5:00 a.m. We were beyond exhausted, and of course fate would seat us in the middle of the most annoying group of people I’ve ever witnessed. All we wanted and had planned to do was sleep for the three-hour train ride. This feat was almost entirely impossible because of the rude humans sat all around us.

My sister and I had to listen to obnoxious cackling women as they commented the entire ride about how we were “stupid Americans.” Mind you, none of us – all six of us – spoke for the majority of the ride. We read books and feigned sleep. But, no matter, these women took it upon themselves to make a spectacle and cause a ruckus. My parents sat directly across from a dude duo who laughed and mocked them the entire ride. One was making fun of my mother’s quite fashionable Italian hat, and the other was hysterically and unnecessarily laughing while clearly my parents were trying to nap.

I’ve never wanted to throw a right hook more than I did in that moment. You dedicated readers already know how much I despise rude people; therefore, I was on edge and ready to defend, but we made it through the train ride without an altercation, which is better than the alternative.

We then exited the train, and if you were wondering, I absolutely turned up the passive aggressive channel as we walked to our lovely turd of a van awaiting us in the parking garage. We hopped into the vehicle, and began the journey to Venice. About an hour or so into the drive, we stopped to use the restroom and find nourishment. It goes without saying that we were disappointed.

I’ve noticed that the language barrier becomes an issue only when people make a judgement about us before we even finish our orders. This has happened more than once, and each time we take the incident with a grain of salt, because there is no sense in getting angry and upset - we’ll never see them again. Naturally, the rest stop food was trash, and we booked it out of there and got back on the road.

Finally, we arrived in Venice, and this is where I got irritated to the point of needing a drink. From our parking spot, we probably walked the entire city with all of our heavy luggage in search of our apartment overlooking the water. To put this in perspective, I want you to picture six angry, tired Italian humans trying to take six fully stuffed suitcases and three carry-on suitcases across the city of Venice. Remember, all the streets are cobblestone and uneven, and the city contains various levels; therefore, we had to haul our luggage across the city and up and down steep steps all while trying not to fall into the water.

I was so irritated, and my father kept trying to grab my luggage out of my hand. At one point, I jerked it away from him and hyperextended his knee, he yelled at me like I was a toddler, and we got lost. Eventually, we found our lodging for the night, and at this point, I needed a lot of alcohol. You see, I’m a happy drunk, and my family needed happy and calm Alex after witnessing angry and frustrated Alex in the middle of a foreign city.

Instead of eating more pasta and pizza, we wanted good old fat and greasy American burgers. Obviously, we went to the Hard Rock Café, Venice where we gorged on greasy food and sipped various mixed drinks and sangria. Needless to say, we were tipsy and happy, and had a grand time walking under the city lights, heel clicking, singing, and dancing as we made our way home for the night.

Just a disclaimer, as a family, we rarely drink, but we’re on vacation, and we all needed it. I’m discovering my alcohol palate, and I’m having a blast. Granted, I would prefer better coffee each day, but I’ll never give up my search for the perfect little café in a beautiful European city. While you’re at it, grab your own steaming mug – better yet, drink a hearty cup for me because you and I are going to need it as we continue this trek through foreign lands.

Adventures In Europe Day 7: When In Rome ...

Rome is an intense city, and when six loud uncultured Americans attempt to take on the city, nothing goes as planned. Because we slept in this morning, we missed our 9:30 a.m. tickets for the Colosseum. Now, this is an important detail that I would like all of you avid readers to remember as we progress through this chapter of the European adventure.

After taking our time this morning to look presentable, we trekked to a little breakfast spot. My sister and I decided to swap shoes, and I regretted this decision as soon as her pointy black booties suffocated my horrendously wide and fat feet. You see, her shoes looked better with my outfit, and I was willing to suffer the day to look fashionable … until about an hour into the journey when the cobblestone streets began to aggravate the neuromas on the balls of my feet. I have the feet of an 80-year-old woman; so, I was a hot mess. We ended up switching shoes once again in the middle of a tour at one of the very many ancient structures within the city limits.

We stopped for breakfast at a little café that was not suitable for large families. Six loud humans crowded around two miniscule tables munching on pastries while sipping freshly squeezed orange juice. I wasn’t even sat at the table; I was sat perpendicular to my father. Literally, my knees were squared up against his left forearm. Again, I was a hot mess. Also, I did not in fact have coffee today, which explains why I was drunk midday in the middle of Rome … but we’ll get to that little tidbit in a moment.

Once we scarfed down our breakfast, we walked to the Pantheon and toured the immaculate structure. Then we visited a few more ancient structures in the city including the Colosseum. This was the most hectic part of the journey thus far – even more intense than witnessing my older brother drive in Milan.

We made our way through the clumps of pedestrians until we could see the queue for entrance. My mother needed to get to an information desk to see if we could exchange the tickets for a later time, but of course, there was only chaos.

There were “workers” wearing various “uniforms,” all of varying colors and types. We were being stopped left and right by people speaking broken English, each telling us contradicting information. One was saying that our tickets were still valid, others were saying the opposite, and then a man got handsy with my father. I already mentioned how he is a no-nonsense man; so, this was intense for all involved. The “worker” kept following and harassing him until my father yelled an expletive and the aggressive man backed off. We did not enter the Colosseum today, but I’m glad because my anxiety was already through the roof after that almost international incident. I won’t do well in a foreign prison, and I can’t imagine anyone else in my family would either. While this was crazy, it gets even better.

I have a bad case of RBF, and I tend to walk with a purpose and zero eye contact because I do not want to cause a scene or attract unwanted attention. There are random people all over the city of Rome attempting to give out “free” items until they slap a cheap beaded bracelet on your wrist after aggressively grabbing it without any indication that you wanted them to hold your hands. And then they ask where you’re from, show you random pictures of an alleged sick child, and then badger you for money. This was the second time this has happened in Italy, and I don’t know if I can handle another one of these situations.

But no matter – we made it out alive. We made a point to take numerous photos and visit many a structure before settling in a restaurant for a proper meal. In American culture, we are used to abnormally large portions; therefore, our breakfasts were not filling enough, and we were famished. This is where the story gets interesting because after the day we had up until that point, we were all in need of food and drink. And this is where I got drunk for the first time in my life amidst family in the heart of Rome.

For some reason, both my mother and I ordered a liter each of sweet white wine because of course we didn’t realize how large a liter is in comparison to my tolerance. I rarely drink; so, after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, I was sloshed. Every time I turned my head, it was as if my eyes took twice as long to follow suit. I was missing my plate, and when it came time for dessert, I managed to get my delectable chocolate cake all over my hands and on my skirt. I was living up to my title of “hot mess.” Mind you, it was only about 2:00 p.m., and I was living my best life.

It was probably the most entertaining experience with my family to date. We were all drinking, and I was acting a fool. It was the most relaxed I’d felt this entire trip; so, I imagine I’ll dabble in more alcohol as we continue to travel from country to country.

After our meal, we went back to the apartment for a short stint before walking to the Vatican. It is the most beautiful little country I’ve been to, and St. Peter’s Basilica is the most amazing cathedral. As we were walking through, there was a subtle choir of men’s voices echoing throughout the church. It was an amazing experience that I will never forget.

From the Vatican, we walked an hour to the train station for a bus tour throughout the city of Rome. While it was a frigid experience, hearing the history behind the obelisks, statues, basilicas, and ancient structures was worth an uncomfortably full bladder and blistering wind. From the bus tour, we snagged a cab back to our apartment, and this was a nerve-wracking experience. Watching people drive through the compact and congested city does wonders for my anxiety, but we made it in one piece.

We decided to eat one more meal at a restaurant a few doors down from the apartment. An interesting concept in Italy is outdoor heated seating – we ate outside and laughed and drank before stumbling up the marble steps to catch some shut-eye before our early train ride back to Milan. Next stop, Venice! Be sure to grab a steaming mug, and enjoy these little excerpts. I know I’ll be finding some coffee early tomorrow morning before braving the train and a long car ride. Stay tuned!

Adventures In Europe Day 6: Milan, Italy

Six loud Italian humans take on Italy … After arriving particularly late to Milan and after much confusion aimlessly and angrily wandering through the midnight streets dodging ultra-sketch humans, we managed to rest semi-peacefully in our courtyard apartment in the middle of the city. All night it sounded as if someone were trying to break into our apartment, but it turns out that it was the lift clanging against its metal frame and the human stampede clambering up the steps. But, no matter; we were in Milan.

Thankfully we each had ample time to look presentable – ladies and gents we had eyebrows today. We got ready and left the apartment in search of another aesthetic breakfast spot, and boy did my mother find a gem of a place. It was called California Bakery, and it served the best dang espresso I’ve ever tasted. The pastries were divine, and the entrees were exquisite. We truly couldn’t have asked for a better eating experience.

Full and ready to take on the day, we headed to the Milan Cathedral and walked the terrace steps that overlooked the entire city. Of course, six loud scraggly humans could be found consistently going the wrong direction because why not. Our tickets also included entrance to the cathedral itself, but the line was about a mile and a half long, so we nixed that portion of the tour and instead walked along the various shops included in the Christmas Market.

My mother’s one request was that we visit as many different Christmas Markets as we can, and luckily, one was within our midst. And here is where the story gets mighty interesting. My dad is a walking ball of stress and anxiety in claustrophobic city situations where it is extremely easy to get lost or taken. Therefore, he has been driving the majority of the six loud Italian humans crazy on this trip thus far, even though we know that it is only because he loves us.

However, today something happened that scared everything out of me. Two men kept trying to tie rainbow wrap bracelets on our wrists as we walked by – first starting with my eldest brother and working their way down to my father. We each adamantly declined the “free” souvenir that had nothing to do with the city. But they snagged my parent’s arms and my sister’s arm, and then demanded cash. You see, my father is a no-nonsense man, and he will in fact cause a scene. My mother handed the men €5, and then they started to get handsy and began shouting. So, we just scurried away as fast as we could and avoided them because we do not need an international incident with a member of the military in our midst.

While this was a slight damper in the trip, the Christmas Market made up for all our hardships that day … for the most part. I bought a stylish Italian hat that will go perfectly with my outfit for Rome tomorrow, as well as a few knickknacks and gifts for those in my life.

After the market, we toured the Museum Duomo, which displayed interesting oil canvases as well as their statue counterparts; the art depicted various religious figures and scenes and took us on a trip through history. As the six loud Italian humans were leaving the venue, one of us managed to set off an alarm for being too close to a fixture. Like I said, disaster follows us, and we are a hot mess, however, It was a great day in the city. We even ate at an Italian restaurant where we consumed our weight in various pasta dishes, salads, and soups to prepare ourselves for the three-hour train ride ahead of us to Rome.

We arrived at the train station early, and of course we were like lost puppies trying to find a kiosk to print the tickets and the correct departure gate because we don’t need a grand detour to some obscure part of the country. Finally, we found our gate and made it on the train. You would think that it would have been a peaceful ride without any interruptions, but no.

You see, the train captain kept announcing that as a courtesy, all passengers were to keep their listening devices on a low volume to not disturb the other patrons. Mid nap, I hear this obnoxious tune blasting from a device near me. I knew as soon as the sound hit the air waves that it had to be my father causing a ruckus with the impromptu Kix concert in the middle of a train ride through Italy. It turns out, airline headphones are junk and would have better luck in the trash than plugged into a cell phone.

We exited the train in Rome at about 8:40 p.m. and began weaving our way to the taxi lane because these six loud Italian humans were not walking an hour up the hilly cobblestone terrain of the city of Rome with luggage and full bladders.

When we emerged from the station, a man approached my eldest brother and offered us a ride for €30, and we jumped on that like it was nobody’s business. I was a little sketched out because he led us away from the taxi lane to an awaiting vehicle that wasn’t a taxi. I imagine he was an Uber driver or some sort of equivalent. Needless to say, we arrived at our destination in about 10 minutes, and it was the most stressful ride of my life – even more nerve-wracking than my eldest brother attempting to fit down the streets of Milan.

The driver zoomed through the city while giving us a quick tour and history lesson about the city and got us to our lodging in record time. The place we are staying is nestled in the center of the city overlooking the beautiful architecture. Once again, I am forever grateful for this experience, and while the language barrier is sometimes a hinderance, public decency and manners are universal, which is how we have been communicating thus far. As always, many a coffee, latte, and an espresso have kept me sane this trip; so, stay tuned for tomorrow’s crazy adventures through Rome. I’m sure there will be something insane to keep you on the edge of your seat … until tomorrow.

Adventures In Europe Day 5: Jamming Out Through The Alps

Six loud and angry Italian humans crammed into the van once again, this time on their way to Milan, Italy … a five-hour drive from Ramstein, Germany (which is where they had stayed the night prior). Actually, what was supposed to be a five-hour drive turned into twelve hours in the car. Picture this …

The family stirred from beneath their covers and began the hurried process of looking decent for the day’s adventures. Well, everyone had time to look decent except for one little lass. She didn’t wake up in enough time, and was being rushed out the door; so, she opted for leggings, a long and cozy cardigan, and zero makeup. That’s right ladies and gents – she went out into the world without her signature eyebrows. While it was quite a freeing experience, she would much rather have a symmetrically refined face when walking amidst strapping young men in uniform.

After breakfast on base, the six humans began the road trip to Milan. To get to Italy, the family had to travel through Switzerland, which by the way, is a beautiful country. At one point, they exited a tunnel, and rain turned to fluffy white snow reflecting the beautiful sunshine. The giant brown and clunking turd of a van transported the loud Italians through the Swiss Alps while they blasted “Rockstar” by Nickelback.

You see, faithful viewers, the driver (the eldest brother) refused to play European radio stations because they repeat the same few songs. Hi, hello, welcome to America where every station does the exact same thing 24/7. Needless to say, the family began rotating playlists; so, they’d heard the same 25 songs for four days straight. Oh, the irony.

As they traveled higher into the Alps, all six humans put a pause on their frustration and clashed in a million different tones as they screamed/sang “we all just want to be big rock stars, and live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars.” It was surreal to see houses just perched on the edge of a 100-meter drop and little Christmas trees nestled on porches or framed in a picturesque window. But, this isn’t even the most ridiculous part of the story.

You see, the family may or may not have slightly different political views, and for some odd reason the father and the eldest son consistently – like clockwork – landed on topics of high debate. In short, the one without her eyebrows was completely over the ride at about hour seven and was looking forward to a hot shower and a warm bed.

As you may have guessed, things never seem to go as planned. The now angry humans sat in the craziest traffic that meets the eye. They reached the outskirts of Milan and sat in traffic for about three hours. There were plenty a horn and many an almost-accident as micro cars zoomed in and out of traffic and cut others off. Remember, this family had just popped their international traveling cherry, and they were in a clunker of a car. The massive turd barely even fits on the narrow roads in Europe; so, imagine the van trying to squeeze through the downtown streets.

It took the loud Italians an hour and forty-three minutes to move about forty-five miles, and once they were within ten miles of their lodging for the night, it took thirty-five minutes to reach a relative location. This is where the story escalates to levels that not even the one without her eyebrows could fashion for an interesting short story or novella.

They had finally reached the train station, which was within a one-minute walk from the apartment they were on the hunt for. Mind you, each passenger had a full bladder for about the last three hours of the trip; therefore, everyone was cranky and on edge and not prepared for what was about to happen.

All six members exited the car in the pouring rain, and made a beeline for the train station behind them. All four children raced to the entrance while two parents fiddled with the car door handles and jackets. Once inside, the three eldest offspring raced around in an attempt to find a bathroom, and because all three of them are uncultured and not multi-lingual, they had a hard time trying to decipher signs written in Italian. Even the pictures were pointless because the arrows attached were deceiving.

So, all six family members still had to relieve their bladders and no one had any idea where the apartment was located or the check-in spot. The parents decided that it would be smart to unload all the luggage and just start walking. They walked in the rain with a bunch of luggage to a random hotel to ask the desk clerk for directions. He informed the dripping forms that they were on the wrong side of the train station and needed to backtrack … and so they did.

On the other side of the station, they were still lost, go figure. Finally, the eldest son calls the woman in charge of the apartment to gather some form of direction. It turns out, we had been walking back and forth on the opposite side of the street in front of the check-in building, and she had been people-watching the Americans as they made a ruckus on the streets of Milan.

The real kicker to this crazy story is that the family had to backtrack once again to the opposite side of the station to find the complex where their apartment was located. Granted, it is a beautiful structure with an even better view. It looks like a screen-grab from a romantic comedy, and I am forever grateful for this insane mess of a trip because while these are the crankiest humans you’ll ever meet, they’re my crazy humans.

This trip has somehow made us love to hate each other while simultaneously seeing how much we take for granted on the daily. I’ve seen more and experienced so much culture over the past four days than I have in the twenty-two years I’ve been alive. If it weren’t for the fact that my brother lived in London, we would never have even made this trip let alone spend almost a month touring Europe. As always, coffee has been my tried and true loyal sidekick as I deal with spending way too much time with my crazy, loud Italian humans.

Adventures In Europe Day 4: Cologne, Germany

Last night, we slept peacefully … save for the occasional snore. Even after the cold showers and insanely fluctuating heat, we managed to get a good night’s rest before we began our day in Cologne, Germany. We got a head start with breakfast.

After finding yet another parking garage in another European city, we turned on the trusty GPS and began the search for an aesthetic breakfast spot. Here’s the thing about Europe – you have to have a European phone plan if you don’t want to drown in roaming charges for the excess amounts of data us millennials would be consuming on this lengthy sojourn through foreign countries.

We were attempting to use my brother’s phone, but his cellular device would not and could not pick up a signal in the middle of a congested city. Therefore, we were stuck using my mother’s phone because she decided she was the only one worthy enough for that constant connection. The thing about my mom’s GPS is that it reverses the route on the screen; so, it looks as if we are constantly moving in the opposite and very, very wrong direction.

My family looks like a group of lost penguins when we travel. We kind of just dawdle around, stopping smack dab in the middle of a bike lane. Oh, I forgot to mention that every country we’ve been to so far runs on bicycles. The cobblestone streets are so compact that the majority of the city’s population travels by bike to save on the extremely high and consistently rising gas prices. Both Amsterdam and Cologne gave me so much anxiety as I perused the beautiful architecture and dodged oncoming pedestrians on wheels.

After much confusion and wrong turns, we found a little restaurant called Bastian’s where we ate copious amounts of eggs. The portion sizes in Germany are significantly bigger than those in America. I consumed a plate of delicious scrambled eggs the size of my head. I am also noting how much better the coffee is in Europe. I had an amazing latte this morning with amaretto in it, and I have never tasted anything better. My caffeine kicks are surely being met on this trip, which makes all the anxiety worth it if I can find a cute café to keep me satisfied.

Once we emerged from Bastian’s, we made our way to the Museum of Chocolate where we had a breathtaking view of the city as well as the sweet, sweet aroma of German chocolate wafting around us as we went higher and higher into the exhibits. Eventually, we made our way into the Christmas Market’s outside the museum where the smell of delicious foods enticed us as we walked the busy streets.

Satisfied with our time in the city – and ready to move to the next place of rest – we walked back to the car and made the drive to stay with a friend of my brother’s who lives near Ramstein, Germany in a smaller town at the top of a hill with an indescribable view of the town below and the expansive countryside.

Once our host arrived, we made a pit-stop to the military base near where she works and stocked up on a few items, and then we went to a little Mexican restaurant in the middle of the city. I’ve never eaten at an authentically Mexican restaurant, and I learned that I love the cuisine that much more. It was a quirky spot, and we feasted and drank and laughed. It was a fantastic day, and I am looking forward to tomorrow’s adventures in Italy. I’ll be on the look out for even more unique cafes; so, grab your mug, and keep reading.