Monday, July 5, 2010
photos from Nerja
Aimee petting a dog at the donkey sanctuary, Sarah petting a donkey, the promenade in the town of Nerja, and a view of the sea near our apartment in Nerja.
photos of Paris and Barcelona
Sarah in front of a fountain in Barcelona, the Segrada Familia church by Gaudi, a pick pocketing sign posted in a Starbucks on the Ramblas in Barcelona, Aimee carrying the new suitcase Sarah had to buy in Paris because the wheel broke on hers, a vew of Paris from atop the Arc du Triomphe
Photos from Paris
Sarah touching the Eiffel Tower, Aimee touching the Eiffel Tower, the Eiffel Tower all by itself, Delphine and Sarah taking a break from riding bikes (along the Seine)
photos from France
The "chalet" we stayed in with the Robbe Family in Behoust, France. A group photo the morning we left, Sarah at the American cemetery in Normandy, crosses at the cemetery, a view of the entire cemetery.
photos from France
Omaha Beach in Normandy France. Aimee and Sarah on the ferry from England to France. Aimee and all our luggage just before boarding the ferry.
photos from London
Sarah standing outside the Prince of Wales Theatre where we saw Mamma Mia on our last night in London, Big Ben on a rainy day, Aimee relaxing in Starbucks, a red phone booth somewhere in London.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Too good to be true
Until this point, this trip had gone flawlessly and we were just beginning to think that things were too good to be true when we discovered they actually were. Though what we are about to describe here will sound farfetched and way too scripted to have actually occurred, we assure you that every single word is the truth. Sit back, relax, and prepare for a good look at our last drama-filled day in Europe.
It began with a very, very early start to the day. New neighbors had just moved into the apartment above us and they were up nearly the entire night making one ruckus or another. Everything from chatting and giggling, moving furniture, and a screaming kid (presumably with night terrors). Unable to sleep through all of this, Sarah tossed and turned waiting for it to end. Hoping for some advice on what to do, she checked in on Aimee who had turned the couch into her bed, but every time she did, she found her sleeping soundly in a different, yet comfortable, position. Finally, Sarah concluded enough was enough and decided to take some action on her own. Reaching in the dark she grabbed the closest thing to her, a shoe, and threw it with all her might up to the ceiling. It made impact with a disappointing "Pfff" sound and promptly fell back down hitting her square on the head. Not to be deterred, Sarah decided to try another tactic. This time she grabbed a broom from the kitchen thinking this might make a louder bang to encourage the neighbors to cease their behaviors. Instead, all she got was a showering of ceiling dust. And, even worse, she discovered in the morning that there were several tiny marks left in the ceiling. They finally quieted at about 3:30 and Sarah was able to get about 40 minutes of sleep before needing to get up and drive about an hour away to the airport in Malaga (to catch a flight to London where we flew out of today). We were, of course, furious with these unfriendly folks, and, never fear, we exacted sweet revenge before leaving. For full details, see the deleted scenes later.
At some point in the midst of getting ready and packing our belongings, Aimee blew a fuse while blow drying her hair. We were unable to reset it and, thus, spent the entire time creeping about by candle light.
Next up, the drive to the airport. We left at about 6:30 am and, fortunately, we allotted ourselves plenty of time because in the end we needed it. We had a nice drive the first forty minutes and even began to wonder why we left so early when with just one mile to go... Thump thump thump. "What is that noise?" Aimee questioned. Suspecting the obvious, we pulled over to the side of the road and discovered the right rear tire of our Volkswagon Golf completely flat! With cars whizzing by within inches of us, Sarah eked her way out of the driver's side and walked about a hundred yards to the SOS calling booth (really, that's what it was called) to phone for help. She reached a very friendly dispatcher named Antonio who didn't speak a lick of English. So, in her best Espanol, Sarah informed him of our location and our problem, adding that we had a flight we needed to catch in 2 hours so the more rapido he could send someone the better. He assured her that there would be someone there in diez minutos. We realized, though, that in Spain 10 minutes really means more like 30. Just before Antonio's repair truck arrived, a pair of very friendly officers of La Policia de Espana, named Jose and Vidal, pulled over to check out our situation. They removed the spare tire and tool kit for us, but, as our luck would have it, the necessary tool for removing the lug nuts was missing! So, what should have been a ten-minute fix turned into another 30 minute wait with us getting acquainted with our new friends. The driver of the repair truck, who apparently came without tools, was smoking his cigarettes; Aimee was taking lots of photos as evidence for those who might not believe this tale; and Sarah was starting to panic a bit about missing our flight. Jose, the officer, contacted the Hertz rental company for us, who said they would be sending out a tow truck to pick us up and take us to the aeropuerto. In the meantime, we said adios and muchas gracias to officers Jose and Vidal (but not before taking a group photo) while the driver of the repair truck stayed with us, still with a cigarette in hand. We learned that his name, too, was Jose and that he has two grown daughters who are traveling in the US.
A short while later, the Hertz tow truck arrived driven by a young man named Marcos. After loading the Golf onto the bed of the truck with all our luggage still inside, we all hopped into the cab to continue the rest of our journey to the airport. In red carpet style, the driver pulled right up to the curb to let us out. He and Aimee clamored up into the rental car to retrieve our luggage. With a few more photos and a hug good-bye, we were on our way. Needless to say, we made it through security, past the gates, and safely into our seats with just minutes to spare.
You might think this is enough drama for one day, but not for this story. It gets better, or worse, depending on your view.
We arrived in London at lunchtime overly exhausted from the aforementioned lack of sleep and definitely ready to rest our heads on a nice fluffy pillow at the Holiday Inn Heathrow. Though we had decided early in our trip that we would not take a cab in London, knowing how expensive they are, after what we had been through we wanted the quickest means possible. So we hailed a cab to drive us what we thought would be a short 20 minute jaunt to our destination. Timed passed slowly as we watched the ticker quickly add up and an HOUR later we were in the hole 70 pounds. Honestly, we didn't mind, though, because we were just happy to have finally reached our destination.
Standing outside with our heaping mounds of luggage and staring at the grandiose hotel before us, we breathed a sigh of relief. We headed in and were mesmerized by the ambiance. Excited by the possibilities that this hotel had to offer (a pool, dining hall, free Internet, etc.), we proceeded to the check-in counter where we annoyingly discovered that we had been dropped off at the wrong Holiday Inn, once again dashing our spirits. We were informed that there are three Holiday Inns at the Heathrow airport. Two, of which, are on Bath Road and Sipson. So, our journey was not over. We then hailed another overly expensive taxi (ugh) to take us to the correct Holiday Inn, which offered only the basic amenities and was situated practically on the tarmac of the airport. You can guess the soundtrack to our evening. At this point we decided that our life of siestas was officially over and there would be no nap for us. So we ditched our bags and headed out on the town for a bit. That night, we watched the futbol game between Ghana and Uruguay in the comfort of our teeny tiny twin beds and then slumbered peacefully like babies swaddled in their mothers' arms.
The morals of this story are threefold.
1. Allow plenty of drive time when heading to the airport even if it seems excessive. Aimee repeatedly and annoyingly declared that we were leaving much too soon while Sarah was adamant that it was better to have too much time than not enough. We know who was right in this case.
2. Prior to leaving the rental car agency, always make sure your rental has the necessary equipment (e.g., flares, a jack, and a bright neon yellow vest with silver reflective striping) to get you out of sticky situations.
3. Never ever get in the cab with a newbie taxi driver who doesn't know how to locate your hotel despite having the correct address. And don't let him drive off until you make certain you are in the right place.
We are home safe and sound now and fatigue is starting to set in. We will work on the deleted scenes (rated R) and send them out via email. Let us know if you are interested.
It began with a very, very early start to the day. New neighbors had just moved into the apartment above us and they were up nearly the entire night making one ruckus or another. Everything from chatting and giggling, moving furniture, and a screaming kid (presumably with night terrors). Unable to sleep through all of this, Sarah tossed and turned waiting for it to end. Hoping for some advice on what to do, she checked in on Aimee who had turned the couch into her bed, but every time she did, she found her sleeping soundly in a different, yet comfortable, position. Finally, Sarah concluded enough was enough and decided to take some action on her own. Reaching in the dark she grabbed the closest thing to her, a shoe, and threw it with all her might up to the ceiling. It made impact with a disappointing "Pfff" sound and promptly fell back down hitting her square on the head. Not to be deterred, Sarah decided to try another tactic. This time she grabbed a broom from the kitchen thinking this might make a louder bang to encourage the neighbors to cease their behaviors. Instead, all she got was a showering of ceiling dust. And, even worse, she discovered in the morning that there were several tiny marks left in the ceiling. They finally quieted at about 3:30 and Sarah was able to get about 40 minutes of sleep before needing to get up and drive about an hour away to the airport in Malaga (to catch a flight to London where we flew out of today). We were, of course, furious with these unfriendly folks, and, never fear, we exacted sweet revenge before leaving. For full details, see the deleted scenes later.
At some point in the midst of getting ready and packing our belongings, Aimee blew a fuse while blow drying her hair. We were unable to reset it and, thus, spent the entire time creeping about by candle light.
Next up, the drive to the airport. We left at about 6:30 am and, fortunately, we allotted ourselves plenty of time because in the end we needed it. We had a nice drive the first forty minutes and even began to wonder why we left so early when with just one mile to go... Thump thump thump. "What is that noise?" Aimee questioned. Suspecting the obvious, we pulled over to the side of the road and discovered the right rear tire of our Volkswagon Golf completely flat! With cars whizzing by within inches of us, Sarah eked her way out of the driver's side and walked about a hundred yards to the SOS calling booth (really, that's what it was called) to phone for help. She reached a very friendly dispatcher named Antonio who didn't speak a lick of English. So, in her best Espanol, Sarah informed him of our location and our problem, adding that we had a flight we needed to catch in 2 hours so the more rapido he could send someone the better. He assured her that there would be someone there in diez minutos. We realized, though, that in Spain 10 minutes really means more like 30. Just before Antonio's repair truck arrived, a pair of very friendly officers of La Policia de Espana, named Jose and Vidal, pulled over to check out our situation. They removed the spare tire and tool kit for us, but, as our luck would have it, the necessary tool for removing the lug nuts was missing! So, what should have been a ten-minute fix turned into another 30 minute wait with us getting acquainted with our new friends. The driver of the repair truck, who apparently came without tools, was smoking his cigarettes; Aimee was taking lots of photos as evidence for those who might not believe this tale; and Sarah was starting to panic a bit about missing our flight. Jose, the officer, contacted the Hertz rental company for us, who said they would be sending out a tow truck to pick us up and take us to the aeropuerto. In the meantime, we said adios and muchas gracias to officers Jose and Vidal (but not before taking a group photo) while the driver of the repair truck stayed with us, still with a cigarette in hand. We learned that his name, too, was Jose and that he has two grown daughters who are traveling in the US.
A short while later, the Hertz tow truck arrived driven by a young man named Marcos. After loading the Golf onto the bed of the truck with all our luggage still inside, we all hopped into the cab to continue the rest of our journey to the airport. In red carpet style, the driver pulled right up to the curb to let us out. He and Aimee clamored up into the rental car to retrieve our luggage. With a few more photos and a hug good-bye, we were on our way. Needless to say, we made it through security, past the gates, and safely into our seats with just minutes to spare.
You might think this is enough drama for one day, but not for this story. It gets better, or worse, depending on your view.
We arrived in London at lunchtime overly exhausted from the aforementioned lack of sleep and definitely ready to rest our heads on a nice fluffy pillow at the Holiday Inn Heathrow. Though we had decided early in our trip that we would not take a cab in London, knowing how expensive they are, after what we had been through we wanted the quickest means possible. So we hailed a cab to drive us what we thought would be a short 20 minute jaunt to our destination. Timed passed slowly as we watched the ticker quickly add up and an HOUR later we were in the hole 70 pounds. Honestly, we didn't mind, though, because we were just happy to have finally reached our destination.
Standing outside with our heaping mounds of luggage and staring at the grandiose hotel before us, we breathed a sigh of relief. We headed in and were mesmerized by the ambiance. Excited by the possibilities that this hotel had to offer (a pool, dining hall, free Internet, etc.), we proceeded to the check-in counter where we annoyingly discovered that we had been dropped off at the wrong Holiday Inn, once again dashing our spirits. We were informed that there are three Holiday Inns at the Heathrow airport. Two, of which, are on Bath Road and Sipson. So, our journey was not over. We then hailed another overly expensive taxi (ugh) to take us to the correct Holiday Inn, which offered only the basic amenities and was situated practically on the tarmac of the airport. You can guess the soundtrack to our evening. At this point we decided that our life of siestas was officially over and there would be no nap for us. So we ditched our bags and headed out on the town for a bit. That night, we watched the futbol game between Ghana and Uruguay in the comfort of our teeny tiny twin beds and then slumbered peacefully like babies swaddled in their mothers' arms.
The morals of this story are threefold.
1. Allow plenty of drive time when heading to the airport even if it seems excessive. Aimee repeatedly and annoyingly declared that we were leaving much too soon while Sarah was adamant that it was better to have too much time than not enough. We know who was right in this case.
2. Prior to leaving the rental car agency, always make sure your rental has the necessary equipment (e.g., flares, a jack, and a bright neon yellow vest with silver reflective striping) to get you out of sticky situations.
3. Never ever get in the cab with a newbie taxi driver who doesn't know how to locate your hotel despite having the correct address. And don't let him drive off until you make certain you are in the right place.
We are home safe and sound now and fatigue is starting to set in. We will work on the deleted scenes (rated R) and send them out via email. Let us know if you are interested.
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