Three Hour Tour

Three Hour Tour

Kate vomiting as soon we switched drivers, putting me behind the wheel, is not a reflection of faulty driving.  The country roads are topsy-turvy.  Sit and spin.  Corkscrew, and you are upside down before you realize.  Spinning.  Spinning in The Sound of Music.

The first two hours into the trip the backdrop was beautiful.  Sarah, “Wow you know what this looks like?”  Steve, “Pennsylvania.”  Yeah, it really does.  We stopped at a superstation.  It reminded me of the Ohio turnpike.  After filling up the car and a bad foreshadow case of lunchables for the girls, I drove.  Quickly into the white knuckle drive, Kate threw up loads.  I did a Macguiver clean-up.  Confused why Macguiver was a man and not a mom.  I can prepare a meal with a nail clipper, oatmeal and a carrot.  I can clean-up vomit cascading down seats that seeps into untouchable cracks and clean it within minutes.

I contained all the grossness in a backpack.  We drove to Stonehenge with the windows open only to be welcomed by the worst smelling farm fields.  Windows up or down?  It does not matter; the battle of ratchet smells wins.

The history in England astounds me.  The history of Stonehenge is amazing.  Stonehenge is about 5,000 years old.  It is a mysterious circle of large stones.  It made it’s acting debut in 1986, costarring Chevy Chase in “National Lampoon’s European Vacation.”  Sextonfive did a quick tour.  Our next stop, vomit free!, mom driving!, was a castle in Bath, England.  Completely fit for my queens.   Our time was extended here considerably more than our time at Stonehenge.  The sextonfive were the only visitors at the Bath Castle.  I questioned, were we allowed to be there?  The castle was converted into Bath Rugby’s training center.  We looked through every window.  The stained-glass Cathedral converted to the workout center.  The grounds were gorgeous and manicured perfectly.  When you opened a gate, likely a gate we were not allowed to open, you were exposed to a quaint village.  It was a fairy-tale secret and magical garden.  The girls kept running and kept discovering.  I love being a girl.

We booked our hotel room while driving into Bath, a true road trip—no concrete plans.  Non-emergency break.  Please stop.  Look at that view.  We were overlooking Bath, a beautiful city, all the buildings were golden.  We were atop a hill viewing the vast city.  That was not our last hilltop view.

The next day we walked onto a magnificent hill in a park.  It was a gated, public park.  We got to the top and again were astounded.  All, but Kate were taking panoramic pictures on electronics.  At the top, we dreaded the walk down the steep hill, through mud puddles, to cross the street and re-walk up the hill on a sidewalk.  How can we bust out of these gates?  The top of the hill was aligned with estates.  We pondered the price tags on such houses with such views.

There was not a gate on this horizon, there was a landscaped ledge and I saw the perfect little trail to a driveway, to the destined sidewalk.  Caroline and Steve saw it too.  We discussed and decided we will jot up the path and out we will be.  I was the first and last to go.  As soon as my shoes touched that driveway a fancy BMW SUV turned into the narrow driveway.  I knew.  I knew!  I knew I was not allowed.  The only way for the car to get by was for me to climb back down the path or the other, which I did, turn my back to the car and stand in the stunning landscape.  I heard the car pull up next to me.  The driver unrolled her window and firmly said, this is private property.  Me, apologies and thank you.  Steve and the girls walked down the hill about six feet and found somebody removed a rail to the gate allowing them to hop out.  We were not the only tourists who felt trapped and tried both options for escaping.

Time to switch travel stories.  Bath, England is in the past.  We did go to Cardiff Castle after.  We have fun Cardiff stories.  But! we went to Italy for Easter Holiday.  It was my favorite family vacation.  I have never been on a vacation where we pack-up and travel by rail every two days.  I cannot decide what city I loved best: Venice, Florence, Piza, Rome or Sicilia.  Sicilia felt like I was home.  It was our last stop and our hotel had an amazing view, an amazing pool patio and we were able take a tram to the beach.  Mind you, we could not swim at said beach because it was full of jelly fish.

Sicilia is where we relaxed the most.  We contracted out the pool.  We were the only family swimming.  I could absolutely see myself (with my family) traveling to Sicilia with my laptop and writing on a balcony or on a beach for a month, a year, or three years.  I bought a pair of lace pants as one of my only souvenirs, my family was quickly waiting outside of the beautiful souvenir shop.  I paid, swift exit right, and as I walk out I see an exquisite lace dress.  I ran my fingers over it.  The store owner knew I had to go and she said, “Don’t worry.  You’ll be back.  Even if it’s not this trip, I know you will be back here.  I can feel it.  You belong here.”  I hope she has a magic mirror that told her that. 

But collectively, as a family, our favorite story is: Pizza in the Cathedral

Caroline and I were waiting in the que to get into the Florence Cathedral.  The tour guide at Piza said, many Cathedrals that are ornate on the outside are simple on the inside.  Cathedrals that are plain on the outside are more ornate inside.  Either combination impressed me.  The Florence Cathedral’s architect was mind-blowing.  It looked like it had a pink and green pattern.  The exterior was undoubtedly ornate.

Steve took Helen and Kate to the toilet as Caroline and I waited in the que.  We were able to get to the entrance of the Cathedral quickly.  Caroline and I let many families go in before us, so we could wait for Steve and the two little girls.  I got annoyed with the number of people we let ahead of us.  Our happily ever after arrived.

We went into the Cathedral lobby and were now in a que for security.  There was a lady in front of us was with a security officer to get her bags checked.  She had a large pizza box with her.  The female security guard became expressively upset.  Pizza is not allowed in the Cathedral!  The women got into an exchange.  Wow!  Again, we let others pass us in the que, we were in the first scene of a good show.

Frustrated the security guard turned to her colleague and told him the lady was trying to bring pizza into the Cathedral.  He lit up!  He screamed, “No!!  You cannot bring pizza into the Cathedral!  What are you thinking?”  He was speaking Italian.  I assume he screamed those words, or worse.  The tourist with the pizza tried to find a place to store the pizza so she could grab it on the way out.  Her actions upset the security guards further.  Lit again!!  We heard the security man yell at the lady again.  He roared!  She had to throw it out.  What are you thinking lady?  You are going to walk around the most historical building, most religious building in Florence eating pizza?

Steve mentioned he saw the lady leave the que to buy the pizza.  I do not have sympathy for her.  We continue to tell this story often and Caroline Rosie does the best job!

Now it is time for my friend Michelle and her family to hop into my British Blog.  In February I fell in a valley.  Michelle has been like a sister to me.  When Caroline and Helen were sick, she came to my house to check on us and offered to take the girls to after hours since Steve was out of town.  Her character mirrors my sisters.  In my valley, one February day, Michelle invited me for tea (tea is tea, tea is lunch, tea is dinner).  We had a tea lunch.  She made an authentic Malaysian meal.  It was fried rice with vegetables and chorizo.  Delicious!  Best fried rice ever!

There were quiet times, my mind still in a valley.  Finding myself like my mother, I could not handle the silence for long.  When my sister, Rachel hosted her first Christmas at her house in Detroit we were sitting at the dining room table.  It was meditation quiet as we ate our festive meal.  This is common in large families (during every night dinners) because you need to eat quick.  Having seconds is rare.  My mom sat next to me at our Christmas dinner and broke the long silence, “Sooo……Sarah what is your favorite color?”  “Uh green,” I replied.  Back to silence and eating.  Moments later, “That was weird mom.”  And full guts busted and today that is a Plante family favorite.  Similarly, I was sitting next to Michelle, like my mom sitting next to me.  I was searching for a conversation starter.

“Michelle do you ever use chopsticks?”  We were using forks at our meal.  She stopped eating.  Her pause included her fork in the air in front of her face.  She side-eyed me.  Then full face turned toward me and eyed me.  I could tell she was concentrating or confused.  And I did feel like there is such a thing as a stupid question.  She said, “Yes.”  Michelle is very sweet, very calm and went back to eating.  There was that silence again.  “Are they hard to use?” I asked further, because sometimes stupid continues.  And rewind.  Michelle froze again with her fork in front of her, side-eye and stare, full face turn, and very politely, “No.”  There was a pause again.  “And do your daughters use them?”  Again, Michelle confused said, “Yes.”   After our last silence I am happy Michelle spoke up:

“Chopsticks?” she asked.

“Yeah, chopsticks.” I said.

“You mean…..” And she acted out putting on Chapstick.  My full gut busted, and I explained I said chopsticks.  Our tea lunch finished with laughter.  Imagine her confusion, thinking about Chapstick being difficult to use, and asking if she even used it.  Asking a question unrelated to anything we were doing. It was exactly like my mom asking what my favorite color was.  A colorful question out of the blue.   It is not the first time foreign accents have caused confusion for me in conversations.

Later Michelle’s family invited us to our neighbor’s place, the Cathedral, for a Scottish dance.   It was a wonderful fun night.  I have been wanting to go dancing for far too long.  It was similar to square dancing.  There was an announcer on the microphone telling you what to do.  It was unique and our families enjoyed.  Michelle was my partner for a few dances.  You have a main partner but are always dancing with the people next to you.  It was our turn to dance down the line and Michelle jumped on my back and unbelievably I walked her down the line.  On my back!   The truth is, I could have put Michelle in my pocket and danced down that line.

Afterwards our five girls stayed up ridiculously late at our house.  Steve and I talked with Michelle and Patrick.  I told our husbands the fried rice story.  I had to end it with how delicious the food was-delectable.  And improper Steve asked, “Was it better than Midland Chinese?”  Steve why would you do that to me?!  I asked, “Steve, why would you do that to me?  Why would you put me in such a predicament?  You know I think Midland Chinese is the best in the world.  I plead the fifth.”

I love England and all the wonderful friends I have met.  It is hard to think our first year is almost ticked off.  I would stay longer if I could.  I am surrounded by wonderfulness except those damn pigeons!  Apologies, if needed.  I think the pigeon population and I are playing battleship.  “C-1, Hit!  C-2, Hit!  C-3, Hit!”  I have been hit about three times with pigeon poop.  I have literally been hit about three times by pigeons physically flying into my arm.  I avoid shortcuts because I know pigeon flocks will be there.  And then, I will be in my car, there will be about three pigeons in the road.  I slow down.  They do not move.  I stop.  They do not move.  Okay I will slowly inch forward so they will move.  I inch forward.  I can no longer see them.  I do not gun it, but I accelerate my car and boom a shot of feathers.  No carcass ever though.

Last weekend we had the most beautiful weather weekend.  Caroline and Helen fell ill with strep.  We decided to take a nap on the Cathedral’s green.  I went for full sun.  I love the heat.  We had our beach towels and I softly listened to iTunes.  I felt a dew drop next to my left eye.  I opened my eyes and saw the beautiful blue sky.  There was not one cloud.  The sky radiated the most beautiful shade of blue.  That is weird.  I do not think it was a rain drop, or a dew drop from a tree leaf.  I wiped my eye.  Curious, I put my fingers up to my nose.  C- 4, Hit!

“OMFG!!!  A pigeon pooped on my face.  Battleship you beast!  You sunk my battleship!”

I went into the house to wash up.  And took my traveling pc outside:

Pigeon Why?

By Sarah Sexton

06.05.18

Laid in the grass

Feeding a nap

Felt a dew drop

No, it was not

Looked up

Blue sky

No contrasting clouds

Wandering by

Rain drop

Where did

You derive

How did you fly

Wiped my eye

Interested to find

Smelled my fingers

Hot damn

Pigeon poop

Why bird

Did you crap in my eye?

The following day

A swollen sty

Reason 563

Pigeons are

My number one enemy

Pigeons manifest

A mind swirl

Don’t care

Think and stare

Feathered beasts

You win

Battleship

Oh, but I lie

You never hit C-5

Pigeons ask, why?

Hot damn!

I am alive

I arrived home from a birthday party in Liverpool today.  My friend was next to me as I asked the barista for the Wi-Fi password.  “What?” “Wales for fun.”  That does not make sense.  We are in Liverpool.  “What?’  “Wales for fun.” “What?” “Wales for fun.”  “Could you type the password in my phone for me?”  My friend finally piped in, “I think she is saying, world of fun.”  My British friend thought she was saying Wales too.

The most difficult accent for me was a letter from Kate’s taekwondo teacher.  I could not read one word he wrote.  And he wanted me to phone him (I assume).  I could not make out those numbers.  My friend sent me his number, and everything is sorted.

But why?  Why?  Every time I hear a report from Kate or she goes on a play, the taekwondo teacher or parent start by saying, “First I want you to know Kate is very good.  You do not need to worry about that…..”  And they say two more sentences about how well Kate behaves.  One time a mom was recalling the play date, and she stopped mid-sentence to tell me how good Kate was.  I brought this up to Kate’s teacher because I was curious about these poignant affirmations (as I have never heard them so often) and Kate’s teacher confirmed it is true.  Kate is a very good girl.  England is an unquestionably polite country.  But Kate is quite cheeky at home.