Well, the skis have all been returned to the ski rental shop and my tailbone is on the mend from my last endeavor down the slopes before the end of ski season. I was convinced I had permanently damaged my ass bone, but now that I've been off skis a few weeks, my ability to sit in a non padded chair has improved. I guess you would say it was a successful season on the slopes, although the number of times I asked, "Is this really worth it?" might lead one to question just how successful it actually was. But Bryan was in heaven with some of the world's best skiing at his disposal and I was obnoxiously proud (and camera happy) seeing my kids go from the bunny hill to real ski runs in a matter of a few weeks. There is nothing better than seeing your kids accomplish something that makes them feel good about themselves. They gained a lot of confidence and discovered a sport they really enjoy. My biggest success was managing to not seriously injure anything other than my self respect. Sadly, this is how I defined success on skis.
But rather than mourn the loss of our wintertime hobby, the Mjaanes Family spent Spring Break in Barcelona and the Costa Brava region of Spain. Although Bryan has spent a lot of time in Barcelona for work, the only things he had every seen were the airport, the hotel, the Zurich office, and a shopping mall where he would eat his meals. None of that sounds very exciting (except for the shopping mall) so we were all excited to find out why everybody LOVES Barcelona.
As the frugal family travel agent, I was originally planning to have us drive to Barcelona. You know, 9 hours of quality family time. But when I shared these plans with some friends, they all immediately game me a look that silently said, "You're about as sharp as a beach ball" and then kindly reminded me of our car trip through Tuscany. I instantly recalled the pungent smell of pee wafting from the backseat of our car and ran home to find us cheap airline tickets. I discovered EasyJet with bargain basement prices and booked our family of five on a flight from Basel Switzerland to Barcelona. Sure, bargain basement airline travel makes me a little nervous. Would the pilot be one of the few who failed the pilot test the first few times? Would the plane be second hand and have duct tape visibly holding miscellaneous parts on? My fear of flying took a backseat to my fear of paying more than I have to, and we set out on our journey to Barcelona.
The thing about EasyJet is you have to be okay with feeling like steer. Short of them branding our butts with a cattle iron, they pretty much treat you like low grade bovine during the entire preflight process. There are no assigned seats. It's each cow for himself. We had paid a little extra for "priority seating". This basically meant that when you got in line, it was your responsibility to shove your way to the front of the line while waving your "priority seating" ticket at anyone who grumbled at you. Money well spent. When we boarded the plane, I was immediately made uneasy by the terrible orange upholstery onboard. It was reminiscent of 1970's color schemes and I was sure the toilet in the bathroom would be avocado green. This is when I became aware that my 5 and 6 year olds were becoming travel snobs. "Where's the TV!" , "When will our first meal come?", and my favorite (uttered by Z multiple times on both ends of the trip) "Why do we have to go EasyJet! I want to fly a regular plane!". Even Bryan complained about how far you had to walk to get to the terminal after you checked in. Good God people, you're all going on Spring Break to BARCELONA! When I was a kid we went to the apple orchard for spring break and if we were lucky we got to go miniature golfing at the crappy putt putt up the road. I proceeded to MOOOOOOO..... at them and then tuned them out.
We arrived in Barcelona at about 8:30 p.m. and then had to take public transportation to the apartment we'd rented. We found the street it was located on and wandered around looking for number 26. At this point it's about 10 p.m. and I'm suspecting our new neighborhood might not be so family friendly. Unless your family enjoys seedy restaurants and prostitutes. As we made our way towards number 26, I noticed police activity up ahead. Sho nuf, the drunken disorderly guy is being apprehended directly in front of the door to our building. So Bryan and I and our 3 young children stood waiting for our apartment guy to let us in while Mr. Belligerent Booze Hound spouts off to the police. Who else would this happen to? There is a whole long boulevard where this guy could have been arrested, but it had to happen 6 feet from our front door. It was made even more horrific when the guys wife AND CHILD came walking up to hug and kiss him before he was dragged off to the slammer. Lovely. Nothing like making lasting memories for my impressionable children.
When our apartment guy finally got there, he took us upstairs to our apartment where we discovered that the rental company's website photographer has a wonderful knack for framing the photos of their apartments to look better than they are. I will say that it was clean, had 3 bedrooms and two bathrooms. But that's all I'll say. As he showed us around, he found one of the bathroom doors to be locked. He made a quick phone call and two minutes later, 3 guys with skateboards showed up and started walking through the apartment like they were looking for something. Clearly this rental company runs a very professional operation. Eventually, the skater dudes somehow managed to get the door opened and we were left to settle into our Spanish Ghetto apartment.
Each night of our stay in Barecelona we were welcomed home by at least 1 random chain smoker who would, without fail, be standing in front of our graffitied front door. Really, who needs a chocolate on your pillow when you can have the pleasure of asking a random creepy vagrant to remove themselves from your front doorstep each night?
Aside from our accommodations, we enjoyed 3 full days in Barcelona seeing the sites. With 3 youngs kids, it can be a challenge to hoof it around a big city, so we took advantage of the cheesy double decker buses. We visited Montjuic Castle, the National Palace, the amusement park at Tibidabo, Park Guell, La Padrera and Sagrada Familia. We spent some time wandering down La Rambla which is a touristy street with lots of bars, restaurants, and street performers. We've seen some strange street performers in our European travels, but Barcelona seems to take it to a new level. Some were impressive, like the guy dressed up as the alien from the movie (aptly titled) "Alien". If you happened across this guy while he was having a smoke break, instead of standing on his street performer box, he would absolutely scare the living crap out of you. Z was the bravest of the Mjaanes kids and dropped a Euro in his jar. Hence the picture below....
Some of the other performers were less impressive, like the guy sitting on a toilet with a top hat. He, and the toilet, were spray painted white. When a nice middle aged woman finally let her curiosity get the best of her, she dropped a coin in his jar and he proceeded to "strain" while making an explosive noise that any boy under the age of 40 would find hysterical. Lovely.
At the end of our last full day of sightseeing, we hopped on the bus to go back to La Rambla so we could grab dinner and head back to our hole for the night. After a few minutes we realized we were on the wrong route and decided we needed to hop off the bus and find the nearest subway station. The kids were excited because we got off the bus right by the beach. The weather while we were in Spain was not the greatest and by the water the wind made it downright cold. We were all bundled up in our jackets and started heading down the boardwalk. This is when one of the strangest moments in our trip occurred.
I need to preface this story by sharing with you that I am not a prude. I know that Europeans are much more comfortable with their own nakedness, and I applaud them and their exposed body parts. I have every intention of preparing my kids before our next beach excursion by enforcing a "no pointing at boobies" rule. But I wasn't prepared for this momentous conversation at 7 p.m. when the temperature is a nippy 60degrees. The whole encounter is a bit of a blur. All I know is that while heading down the boardwalk I suddenly see what appears to be 2 naked men heading right towards me. I'm freezing my ass off and think, "No, I must be mistaken. My eyes are playing tricks because no one would be walking buck naked down the boardwalk in this weather". So of course, I do what any mature woman would do, and my eyes immediately drop to the gentlemen's nether regions. Holy Crap, not only are they naked, but they don't seem to be effected by the chilly weather, if you know what I mean. They were walking VERY proudly, side by side, and I'm sure I made there day with my jaw dropping reaction to their 2 man parade. I'm embarrassed to say that after they passed us, I turned around and admired their all over tan. I was stunned and grateful that the kids were so enthralled with the beach that they missed seeing the nudey twins strutting their stuff. A few minutes later, sadly, I was still thinking about the strange situation, when it occurred to me what struck me as so odd about it. Aside from the fact that it was cold and they were naked, it appeared that they had either both taken a very recent Nair bath or had kept their friendly local body waxer VERY busy. From the neck down, they were as hairless as a baby's butt. THAT is what made it kind of like a car wreck. It was uncomfortably disturbing to look at, yet you couldn't look away. Although Bryan would strongly disagree as his eyes were diverted anywhere but at our Spanish streakers.
After 4 nights in Barcelona, we headed North up the coast to the Costa Brava region of Spain to commence the relaxation portion of our trip. Our accommodations here made up for the dump in Barcelona and we had an amazing view of the Mediterranean from our balcony. If it had been a little warmer, I think we all would have been happy to never leave the villa. But since swimming and sunbathing were out of the question, we headed to the town of Cadaques for the most relaxing lunch of our trip. Cadaques is a small fishing village where Picasso, Miro, Dali, and numerous other artists spent time living and painting. It didn't take us long to get to the town but navigating our way through the 2 way streets that are the width of 1 small car gave me a heart attack in our stick shift rental. Bryan managed to find us a parking spot without removing either of the side view mirrors in the process.
I've finally realized that the key to a relaxing meal is to make sure the restaurant has outdoor seating that is strategically placed next to an open area for the kids to play. We found the perfect tapas bar in Cadaques that sat right on the bay with a rocky beach. Bryan and I relaxed and enjoyed a few cervezas while the kids spent over an hour throwing rocks into the Mediterranean. I could spend 1000 francs at a toy store and it still wouldn't rival the entertainment the kids get from a body of water and a load of rocks. There were a few near misses that involved rocks flying dangerously close to strangers heads, but there was not bloodshed and the kids (and we) had fabulous day.
The remainder of our trip consisted of letting the kids pick the activities they wanted to do. For E, it involved riding every carousel we encountered and eating lots of ice cream. C spent the entire 4 days looking for the best miniature golf course in Costa Brava, and eventually played the only one we found that was open. And Z chose to have us rent a little electric boat so we could putt around the canals in the nearby town of Empuriabrava. After dragging them around Europe to see lots of old stuff, it was nice to let them do the simple things that made them happy. We really take for granted that they have become such great travelers. And although our trips are never without moments of child induced insanity, when I stop and think about how tolerant they are for 6, 5, and 3 year olds, we can't complain. Well, we can complain, and do. But I suspect several years from now, when our European Adventure is in the past, we will remember all the fun and exciting parts of our travels, and forget the moments of trantrums, whining, and sibling fighting. I just wish I could say the same for the image of the hairless, Spanish, streaker twins that is permanently seared into my brain.
Viva Barcelona!
