Miserable in Milan

Katrina is now on one crutch.  The funny thing is, Jordan is on the other.  Jordan is so desperate to be like his big sister that he has started to limp on one foot, and uses her now-discarded crutch to get along.  They really look pathetic dragging their suitcases in one hand, and limping along with a crutch in the other.  Only when Jordan falls behind does he forget that he doesn't need the crutch and he runs to catch up with his big sister.  We get a lot of funny looks from people.

The landscape around campgrounds and hostels has changed in the last few weeks.  All of the school-aged children are now missing.  We are starting to get questions about why the kids aren't in school.  Invariably when we tell people what we are up to, they ask about he children's education.

"What are you doing about their education?  Aren't they missing out?"

We explain that we have about 60 minutes of formal math education every morning, and that in the evening, the kids write in journals and read books that usually pertain to the local area in some way.  Most would be amazed at the library we are traveling with.

This conversation always concludes with people telling us:

"Oh, but they will learn so much this year that they would never be able to learn in a classroom!!"

Of course that was our hope, but hopes have a way of fading into reality.  At any given moment Jordan is only vaguely aware of what country he is in.  Almost daily we quiz Jordan, "What country are we in?  What city are we in?  What event happened here?"

Of course it isn't all lost on Jordan.  He can tell you which country has the best hot dogs (France), and in which country you can obtain a "Daim" bar (certain kind of candy).  His ability to obtain and retain useless information is truly mind-boggling.  Equally mind-boggling is his inability to remember what 7 times 8 is.

Jordan has been fascinated by comic books for months.  But lately, his fascination has matured into what I would call a clinical obsession.  No matter that we can't buy editions of Spiderman in English, as he has taken up creating his own.  He has become quite a comic book factory.  I can't keep track of how many super-heroes and villains he has created and subsequently committed to paper.

In the beginning, all his super-heroes could fly, and had super strength, and had some variation of a ray vision.  Each book had a the same mind-numbing cookie cutter plot.

But with a little encouragement, new and improved editions started to come out.  One of his latest creations is Lizard Man, who has regenerative powers so he can grow back a limb he lost in battle.  I had to concede that would be a useful trick.  Last night he was explaining the finer points of his latest creation; not only did it involve time machines and going back to the age of the dinosaurs to collect DNA from a T-Rex, so the villain could terrorize the city, but it also sported a new language from the hero's home planet.

Somehow, he has solicited Katrina's help.  I think she has become his managing editor.

We can be trying to herd everyone onto a crowded subway without leaving someone behind, or hiking in the Alps basking in the wonders of nature, but Jordan and Katrina will be negotiating whether or not Hunt's costume has a cape or not.

Speaking of the Alps, last we checked in we were preparing to leave Switzerland.  It was starting to get a but frosty.  Not only could we see our breath in the mornings, but the snow-line was visibly making its way down the mountain as the days went by.  And most importantly, Switzerland has the uncanny ability to strain even a Trump-sized wallet.

After we visited our apple tree, we packed up our tandems and sent them back to California.  We also traded in our panniers for traditional luggage with roll-y wheels.  Funny how you can spend weeks agonizing over a purchase such as bicycle panniers, but you buy luggage at Wal-Mart (or rather the European equivalent).  But I am getting ahead of myself.

On this latest trip through Switzerland we had spent 9 days at a campground in Lauterbrunnen and made friends with the owners.  The day we left, Katrina got her first rose ever from a boy, from the 10-year-old son of the owners, and a promise to write.  I fear the teenage years.

We had fine weather during our stay in Switzerland, except for the morning we had to leave.  Luckily for us, the owners drove us to the train station so we didn't have to walk in the rain.  It would be nice and dry on the train.

We were on our way to Italy.  We had been looking forward to Italy for literally months.  Everyone gushes over how wonderful Italy is, from its art, to its people, to the Roman ruins, to the lakes and mountains and its history.  It is to be our final stop in Europe before we head to Asia.

When we arrived in Milan the rain was coming down in biblical proportions.  To get to our campground would take connections on the subway and the bus, and then a 15-minute walk on a dark and rainy night. So, we did what any intrepid explorer would do.  We took a taxi.Δ

Even with the advantage of a taxi we were thoroughly drenched by the time we found ourselves standing at the check-in counter of the campground.  Camping in a tent in the rain sounded about as much fun as a visit to the dentist, so we opted for a  cabin.

Once in the cabin we made two important discoveries.  One, the cabin did not have electricity, so we couldn't see what it looked like until morning.  But, more important was that our suitcases were not waterproof.

When we purchased our bicycle panniers we made sure we bought the highest quality waterproof panniers money could buy.  And when we packed them, everything went into plastic bags, just to be sure.  It would seem the same principles of nature apply to luggage - we will have to try and remember that.

Next morning it was still raining.  We were awakened by the sound of farm animals and loud banging.  I would swear someone, somewhere, was building an ark.  As we scraped ourselves up off of the cabin floor we made yet another important discovery.  There were four beds in the cabin.  Light can be, so, so, illuminating.

It was time to do a Ctrl-Alt-Del on Milan.  If there was a way to flush it, I would have.

Since we got in so late, we would have to go into town to buy groceries for breakfast.  I wasn't about to waste a trip to town without putting the whole experience behind me.  We packed up, checked out, and headed out.

İt was a 15-minute walk to the bus stop, but at least our map indicated a grocery store along the way so we could grab breakfast.

The rain had throttled back from coming down in sheets to a nice steady shower.  Still water-logged from the night before, we set out to put as much distance between us and Milan as possible.  We figured Venice would be a good destination.

When we reached the grocery store, the realization that it was Sunday set in with all the subtlety of a fingernails on a chalkboard.  Grocery stores in Europe do not adhere to the 7 days a week, 24 hour a day schedule that they do in the US.  All hopes of breakfast were simply washed away.

Somehow, Katrina and Jordan forgot to notice that they should be miserable.  While walking through the rain, they were indifferent to the puddles because they were so engrossed in their conversation about the plot of the latest comic book.  After nearly 4 months of being on the road, they have been beaten into a submissive pulp; nothing seems to faze them.  This is a really annoying quality; you want to be miserable, but those around you refuse to yield their sunny disposition.

The only food we had was some Zwieback toast September had been hoarding since Switzerland.  For some reason, September likes the stuff and hides it from us because she thinks we will eat it.  Truth is, I throw it away whenever I find it because I know it is really just cardboard compressed into the shape of a slice of toast.  But I was grateful to have it this morning.  I was also grateful it was still in the shrink wrap, because it was the only thing we owned that was dry.

With Sunday, comes the Sunday bus schedule.  When we reached the bus stop, we learned we had just missed the bus, and the next one would be in an hour.  We huddled in a doorway relishing our Zwieback toast crumbs, arguing over who was getting the most shelter from the rain.

It was well after 1:00 PM by the time we reached the Milan train station where we could have a proper breakfast of a McDonald's super-sized Big Mac combo.