Cyprus: veni, vidi, vici!

I was a little nervous; about checking in, about going through passport control, about renting a car, getting to Nicosia, managing to pay the passport fee at a bank, finding the embassy... Once we got to the airport and through passport control however, I relaxed. This time I came armed with a residence card for Max and his father’s signature, and was allowed to leave with him - without my master/husband.

The flight went well, as did the car rental. There was a moment there, however. Did you know that in Cyprus, people drive on the left side? Well, I didn't. Thanks for adding that, there, God. As if the whole trip wasn't challenging enough. I am very grateful for my friend, who so nicely came with me for practical and moral support, because driving alone on the left side with a baby - who hates car seats - in a car seat in the backseat would have been... stressful. It took both of our full concentration to navigate from Larnaca to Nicosia; my friend did the actual practical steering of the car, while I directed, “OK, to turn right, you have to turn all the way over to the other side. There, aim for that phone booth! You need to drive right past that sign! Stay on the left side! Here, over here! [gesticulating] Turn around the corner here, and follow the curb.” It really was a work for two. When we finally arrived at the hotel in Nicosia, it was late; we were both exhausted and extremely wound up at the same time. After check-in we went out for some food: pork kebab, tzaziki, taramasalata, Greek bread - and then headed to bed. 

I hadn't slept very well, still a bit anxious to get the paperwork done in the morning, but everything went well. I applied for Max’ Swedish citizenship and a new passport for myself. The Swedish embassy on Cyprus is really small, and the personnel was very friendly and helpful. We were done and back at our hotel room a bit after 10 am, leaving some time for a rest and packing before check out.

Our flight was leaving in the evening, which left us an entire afternoon to visit IKEA (we enjoyed some Swedish food and I bought wine glasses) and go to the beach. It was crowded – a lot of Swedes and Norwegians, burned like lobsters, drinking beer and swimming in the sea – but the sand was soft and the water fresh. Even Max got to dip his little feet in the water. For supper we tried finding a nice restaurant in Larnaca, but ended up driving to the airport and grabbing a bite there. We were both tired and wanted to make sure we had no problems getting home. When we successfully returned the car without a scratch, my friend and I high-fived and hugged from joy and relief. The rental guy looked at us funny. What an adventure.

It was such a short trip, but it felt long, probably because of the stress, and it was great to come home. I walked in the house with sandy feet and a big smile, and Abraham yelled at me for going to the beach without him, but the Swedish candy I had brought quickly made up for it.

My new passport will not arrive for another couple of weeks – it should arrive before we leave for the US, but of course I’m a bit nervous about this – and my VISA interview at the US embassy is tomorrow. I’m praying that they will not give me a hard time and deny/delay my VISA because of my passport situation. We’re anxious to start our adventures, and in light of recent events (the rocket hits), we’d like to leave as scheduled. Wish me luck!

Welcome home!

Prof. Husband came home yesterday from his week-long conference trip to Scotland with interesting stories and ideas. Getting accepted for a conference and presenting a paper is a good thing in itself, but what I like the most about academic conferences is the inspiration they generate: not just ideas for more papers, but excitement about the field, academia in general, and more thorough insights into other people’s work and thought. My husband also gets to spend time with old and new friends, which is good, since he doesn’t exactly have a rich social life here in Beirut.

It was cold, he said, and it rained a lot. It was expensive too. But he had some really nice meals and brought me back a beer that is to die for: Innis & Gunn, rhum finish. Most of all I enjoy hearing about the people he met though, their lives, stories and families, and of course the ideas that the adventure has produced.

Getting back from St. Andrew’s to Beirut is a bit of an ordeal, involving two buses, a longer train ride and two flights, but his trip went very well – until he got to the Rafik Hariri airport in Beirut. Just before Prof. Husband’s plane landed, the relatives ofthe pilgrims that were taken in Syria decided to block off the road to theairport, preventing any traffic from leaving or entering the airport. So when my husband had got his bag and came out to look for the taxi driver we had arranged, there was nobody there to meet him. There was no information anywhere that would indicate that something was going on, so he decided to wait for a while. After quite some time, he ran into a friend who had just come from Turkey with a friend. They learned, upon calling a relative that was supposed to pick them up, about the chaos outside, and after some conferencing, decided to leave the airport on foot and make it out to the road where their ride was waiting. Zigzaging through blocking vehicles and burning tires, the party of three made it out safely, and my husband’s friends were very kind to take him home.

I was getting a bit worried, yes – he’s usually home within an hour after his plane lands, and now it had been almost three! - when he finally walked through the door I was very happy to have him home.

Vacation, all I ever wanted.. Italy; a little more detailed

Whoa! Time went by quite quickly there. I finished up some jobs, washed clothes, packed, prepared the house, and our family was off to Italy.

I went inter-railing through Italy when I was younger, and Courtney and I have been there several times together. We spent two weeks driving around Northern Italy the summer I was pregnant with our oldest, and we also went to Rome and the Vatican for the year 2000 New Year’s celebration. Since then, Courtney has been there for conferences as well. This was the first time we took the kids though, and it was quite a thrill.

We spent the first week in Rome, where we had rented an apartment found online. It was great – the owners were super friendly, and the apartment was ideal, in a quiet neighborhood but with a grocery store close by and very near public transportation; three bedrooms, a well equipped kitchen, towels, blankets, TV (which we never used), free wi-fi. We went sightseeing every day – the Coliseum, Forum Romanum, The Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, churches, museums (including a Leonardo Da Vinci museum), the mouth of truth, a Salvador Dali exhibition, we saw it all! - and then cooked great Italian food in the evenings and/or had dinner at some very nice restaurants.

After our week in Rome we packed all our stuff into a small Toyota and drove north: Sienna, Pisa, Livorno, Lucca, Florence, Venice, Chioggia, Padua, and then south again; Assisi, Pompeii, Vesuvius, and back to Rome, where we spent an entire day at one of the largest shopping centers I’ve ever seen, Porta Roma.

What a trip!!

Most expensive: The bathrooms at Santa Maria Novella (1,60 euro/person adds up!), and the Venice bus-system. It cost our family over $80/day to get around Venice on crowded shuttle boats.

Most awesome discovery: children under the age of 18 who are members of the EU enter most sites in Italy for free. The boys’ Swedish passports were literally worth their weight in gold!

Something bad that happened to us: Nothing, really. Small annoyances, like having to use tokens to shower at a camping we’re already over-paying for, or missing the IKEA exit in Naples and having to spend an hour trying to get out of a dodgy neighborhood, by means of getting on and off the highway several times and have to pay two euro each entry.

Standing in line, in 40 degrees C heat, for over an hour to get into the Accademia to see the David was pretty unpleasant as well.

If I had to pick a favorite moment: In Padua we just made it to our appointment to see the Chapel. If we had arrived 30 seconds later, they would not have let us in. Pheuw!

But then there’s the glass of wine with a view of Umbria – it tops everything. Not because it was an exceptional wine, but for the setting. Let me paint you the picture.

After Venice and Padua we were a bit weary of camping, which entails – among other things,

• having to walk 5 minutes to get to the bathroom (which often doesn’t have any paper or toilet seat)
• no proper showers (in Italy, campsites make you buy expensive tokens to shower, and a session often only lasts for two minutes)
• taking down and putting up a tent, not to mention pump up air mattresses to sleep every night – in the heat
• waking up bathing in sweat every morning, often in the sun
• spending an hour every day trying to fit all our stuff in the rental car, without burying the kids
• eating whatever for breakfast – no tea, nothing cold – ugh!
• dirt and dust everywhere
• no chairs or tables – nowhere to sit and relax or eat.

We entered Assisi pretty late and just by chance found a small Albergo with a family room at a reasonable price, plus, it turns out, a great restaurant, a pool and a terrace with a fantastic view. We had already had dinner but still ordered some antipasti and a bottle of wine. The restaurant had 1 ½ liter-bottles of soda for 3 euros for the kids. What a catch! Sitting down with that glass of wine in my hand, comfortable, clean, cool, on a terrace with an amazing view of Umbria – thinking about how lucky we were to have found this oasis in the middle of our hectic trip – THAT was a good moment.

Number of churches/basilicas/chapels visited: I lost count after 30 – it could be closer to 50. On our last day in Rome alone, we visited four, and that wasn’t on a day we visited the Vatican. Four in Assisi, three in Venice, three in Sienna, two in Lucca, one in Pisa, well over ten in Florence.

Pieces of luggage that MEA managed to lose on our 3 hour direct flight without delays: 1. (How?! you ask, How?!)

Loads of laundry after we got home: 9.

Summer vacation - 2012 - in Italy

Already there and long gone...

Dinner in Assisi with a view of Umbria

Flying Czech Airlines via Prague with children - never been worse

Is it because I’m getting older? Or is it because over the years, I’ve been accumulating young travel companions? Whatever the answer, flying seems harder and harder every time I do it.

This summer we didn’t even fly return to the US, but a meager 1,1 + 3,5 hours, with a one hour stop-over in Prague - from Lebanon to Denmark and back.

Checking in at Copenhagen airport is always comparatively easy, with short lines, helpful attendants, effective luggage- and security handling, and a wonderful children’s area. Every time I go through it, I wish I would run into the CEO so that I could give him or her an appreciative hug, and say “Thank you for thinking about me – nothing but a poor parent - and making my life a little easier!”

Once we leave Scandinavia, however, we are on our own. While the flying itself will be only slightly unpleasant (usually children will be occupied by food, sleep, or entertainment on the plane, and there isn’t really much that can go wrong), it is the queuing-part of a trip that will really kill any parent of young children. My youngest son, Abraham, is a very energetic two-year old, and like anyone his age, he does not like to wait in line. If he is put in a confined space to wait in line for a long time, he will eventually start to climb on the walls (literally), pull on the bands delineating the queuing area, try to run off, wander around, bother people, yell, or do whatever it is that people this age do when they get bored in small spaces.

Getting through check-in and security at Copenhagen airport and flying for a few hours is unpleasant, but not by any measures. In fact, all this would be all right – controllable - if Czech Airlines and Prague Airport weren’t so adamantly working against people traveling with young children.

Prague airport - which could be a quick, fun stop for us: off one plane, a play at the airport playground (which they have), and on board the next plane – is a long, queue-infested walk of terror. The Czech Republic – European Union – Schengen – WHOEVER it is – has turned a transfer at Prague airport into any parents’ nightmare.

As soon as you get off your first plane you have to stand in a no-line line to show your passport(s). People will be able to simply push their way past you and your children since there’s no system. If – when – you get past this, you have to walk through a transfer-transfer hall but to get to *your* transfer hall, you have to go through another passport control with often very long lines. To add insult to injury, on the way you will have to pass the airport playground and get through a tantrum - your child will SEE the fun playground and want to play but because of all the checks there’s no time to stop. The screaming will last you all the way to the next - seemingly random - security check. Really: why, oh why?! do they have to check our bags again when we are only transferring? We already went through this – in a much more efficient and pleasant way, may I add? – when we started our trip. In Prague, the lines will be extra long (because why keep more than one line open?), with no LEGO stops like in Copenhagen, and by the time you get to the actual security point, you will hold up the line trying to get your laptop out of your overfull bag with half a hand - while trying to contain a screaming and kicking toddler with all your might. (Try it. It’s hard.) Now, right after you don’t think things can get any worse (you’ve either dropped your laptop or your toddler at least twice) – the Czech security guards will be completely non-understanding and search you extra just for bringing kids – you’ll end up in a new, REALLY long line to go through boarding, with people consistently getting ahead of you in line. Because really; doesn’t everyone have boarding privileges over a mother with three young children? Czech Airlines rarely ever announce that people with children should board the plane first, and IF they do, they never enforce it. In fact, single people often push their way past people with children (because it’s easy – the parents are too busy keeping their kids in line under control to notice), and the attendants do nothing to discourage this. By the time you get on board, waiting in line behind every single passenger trying to fit their luggage in the over-head compartments, your children are beyond exhausted, at best.

Hint to all of you traveling without children who give me angry glances when my child is throwing a 30-decibel fit during take-off: IF YOU HAD LET ME ON THE PLANE FIRST, MY TIRED TODDLER WOULD HAVE GOT TO SETTLE IN AND FALLEN ASLEEP BEFORE TAKE-OFF, AND YOUR FLIGHT – EVERYONE’S FLIGHT - WOULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE PLEASANT!!

Did I mention one of my older boys threw up?

Sigh. It’s good to be home. No. More. Flying. For. A. While.

Summer travels at last

After a lot of work, beach time and some illness, I finally found myself zipping up our bags, all packed up for our trip to Sweden. The only flight available to us was a 3 am departure from Beirut, with an early morning stopover in Prague. We left for the airport sometime after midnight, not having slept since the night before. All went well, and the boys fell asleep almost immediately as soon as we got on the plane to Prague – in fact, they slept the entire flight. I managed to sleep a little – I think. I used to be able to sleep sitting up like that, but now… Maybe I’m too big to get comfortable? It was unpleasant to say the least. When we got to Prague I couldn’t wake Abraham up and I had to carry him off the plane and through the airport. The older boys were sleepy but very good and great helpers. We only had about 40 minutes until our next flight, and because of all the passport and security checks at Prague airport, that’s barely enough time.

When William passed through the security check it started beeping and a police officer came up to search him. When he was standing there with his arms out, the police officer padding him all over, William burst out with a smile on his face , “Oh nice. Free Czech massage!!” After only an hour or two of sleep at 6:30 am, he could still crack me up.

Our second flight was short and we got all our bags fairly quickly. Then we took a train to cross over to Sweden (a five minute train ride cost 20 Euro!), where my mom picked us up and took us home. I don’t usually nap, only under very special circumstances, but I guess this qualified because I had a little sleep in the early afternoon with Abraham. We spent this day in a jet-lagged haze eating the Swedish treats we had missed so, and catching up with family.