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!