My parents have never been outside the States before and my father often stated he had no desire to ever leave. It was six months for my father to stop being mad at me because I moved to England. It took a solid year of pleading, coddling and bribery to get him on the plane to visit. He had told me and anyone else who would listen that he had no desire to go abroad since he had "seen it all" during his stint in the United States Navy. I guess a few days of drunken debauchery on the southern coast of Spain when you are 19 years old is enough for a man as unique as my dad. My brother and sister had made bets that my parents would never make it onto the airplane so when the entire plane had finally debarked at Heathrow I started to panic and made a call to Delta to confirm that they had indeed made it on board. Yes, they had boarded the plane, no there were no medical emergencies. The agent advised me that perhaps they were being held up at customs. I was panicking and pacing the terminal positive in my belief that my father had said or done something to rock the boat with customs or the border patrol agents. Anyone who knows him would agree that this could be a very real possibility as no one can say for certainty what will come out of his mouth at any given time. My father was not much into self censorship. Finally, they both emerged through customs looking none the worse for wear. "You can thank your mother for this" were the first words out of my fathers mouth. I looked at my mom who was beaming at me just happy to have finally arrived. "Oh, well I thought you would meet us in baggage claim" she said as she gave me a big hug. Mom, I told you I would meet you after baggage claim. I have phoned the airline twice and have been worried sick! I cannot go into a restricted area. Did you not notice that everyone was picking up their bags and heading out through customs and that their were no people going in the other direction? "That's what I told your mother! That damn currency exchange machine fleeced me when I tried to call you" my father exclaimed. "Look this is what I have left out my $5.00 dollars." My father pulled out a £1.62 in coins from his pocket. Oh boy, I thought here we go. "I haven't been in this country more than an hour and I have already been ripped off!" I quickly herded mom and dad to the car. I was grateful that they had made it safely and that my fathers temperament is the one true constant in life.
Once home my parents were overjoyed to see the dog who they love and adore. The dog in turn recognised them at once and their was a major love fest with a few dog treats thrown in. There is a part of me which believes the primary reason my father finally relented to a visit was his fondness for our dog and not the fact he missed his oldest child. Ater they had toured our little rental home and declared it suitable my father said he was tired and was going to bed. He was thrilled to find his bedroom on the 3rd floor away from the hub bub of the rest of the house. This was a big hit with my husband as well as my father could be sequestered! Within 30 minutes of arriving he was fast asleep with the dog faithfully by his side.
My mom was delighted to be here and was peeking into cupboards and closets while asking me a million questions about our upcoming itinerary to Spain. Mom are you not tired I asked? "I finally get to see my first born after six months Marjorie Allison! I am not going to bed yet." I could only hope that she would settle down before my husband got home so that he was not overwhelmed by my mothers loving overabundance of attention. My mom was quite excited about our upcoming trip to Spain. "I have several new outfits for our trip but I did not bring along any American shirts." American shirts? I foolishly asked. "Well your father and I have a few American flag t-shirts but we decided not to bring them. We don't want to stand out as American tourists" mom added. Mom, I think that in Spain you and dad will not be confused for natives regardless of what you decide to wear. "Well you know your father....he didn't want me to bring anything that might point us out to any terrorists in the area." I think you will both be fine mom I said with a smile.
The next day we were back off to Heathrow to fly to Seville. We were planning on spending five nights in the Andalucia touring Granada and Cordoba as well. I did a last minute check in the car. Passports? Yes! Tickets? Yes! You don't have any liquids in your luggage do you mom? "Well, I have a bottle of water in my carry-on". Mom, what part of no liquids did you not get? "A bottle of water will last me three days said my dad." My husband looked at me in amusement and we were on our way to Spain.
I will share with you some brief highlights of our trip. Suffice it to say we had an amazing time and I have to say my parents did too despite my fathers initial misgivings.
On preparing for mixing with the locals- My father was never without the English-Spanish dictionary which I had bought for the trip. Whether we were at breakfast or touring a mosque he was looking up words and phrases to translate for us. "Ed, he said to my mom Edwina- remember the word socorro. Socorro he repeated S-O--C-O-R-R-O." "What does that mean Bob?" "Help, it means help. It is a good word to know in a foreign country." "Socorro, Socorro, Soccoro"my mom would repeat. My husband would do his best to help translate at meal times but my father preferred guessing what the word might mean and then looking it up in the dictionary. "Hoy, H-O-Y, Hoy. Guess what that means Ed?" I have no idea my mom replied. "Hoy means today. Now who in the hell is going to remember that?" My father enjoyed interacting with the Spanish cab drivers, none of whom spoke English. He would take the passenger seat while my mother, my ever-patient husband and I sat in back. Although they did not understand one anothers language my father and the taxi drivers always managed to communicate well with one another. When a motorcycle would cut in front of the taxi my dad would throw up his hands. The taxi driver would throw up his hands as well. When we were caught behind some slow moving buses my father would yell "push them out of the way!" He would then make pushing gestures with his hands and the taxi driver would shake his head and agree laughing and waving his hands in front of the steering wheel.
On Spanish Tapas- The first night we had our nicest dinner in a recommended tapas restaurant. It was absolutely delicious. We feasted on olives, shrimp, meatballs, fried cod, marinated artichokes, Spanish ham and manchego cheese. The next day after we had another delightful lunch of tapas my father asked if there were any Mexican restaurants in Seville. "You don't like the tapas?" my husband asked. "Well it would be nice to have something different." I looked at my dad. He had been on his best behavior thus far and he was trying his best to be diplomatic. My saint of a husband dutifully found a restaurant for dinner which served Spanish style Mexican which could best be described as interesting to say the least. On day 3 we were enjoying a lovely tapas lunch in Cordoba of fresh seafood and other delicacies and discussing where we should go for dinner. My father suddenly burst out with- "No, no more tapas! Where the hell can you get a slice of pepperoni pizza around here!" My father was not known for gourmet tendencies. He knew what he liked and tended not to stray. Jeff was able to find our little group an Italian restaurant in the heart of Seville which was quite good. My father ordered his favorite- spaghetti bolognese and had a big smile on his face the whole evening. My sly husband discovered a TV in the chefs kitchen and snuck back to watch the world cup periodically. With my dad happy with his food he did not seem to notice. On our last night we were wondering around Seville looking for a restaurant that everyone could be happy with. It was almost 11 pm and we were tired but could find nothing we could all agree upon. Finally, we found ourselves on a familiar street by the Italian restaurant we had eaten at previously. My father was delighted and told the waitress that he would have the spaghetti bolognese again because it was "so damn good" the previous night. My beloved leaned over and whispered to me that if mom and dad visited the following year he was taking them to Italy! "At least your dad will find food that he likes there without needing to canvass the city."
On our Accommodation- We had checked into a four star hotel in a great location in Seville. My parents were not accustomed to the little idiosyncrasies of the European hotels. Not even ten minutes after checking in my dad knocked on our door and announced his air conditioning was not working. Although it was almost midnight the entire floor of our hotel was feeling quite muggy and we ended up sleeping poorly with our windows open. The next morning my father had a one sided conversation with the front desk personnel and came back to our breakfast table announcing that a technician would be fixing it shortly. Jeff and I looked at one another knowing that customer service can be quite different abroad and it was best to just ride it out. That morning was the first time that my dad became obsessed with the hotels bacon. The hotel had a large breakfast buffet with two trays dedicated to the American tourists. In one tray a very runny scrambled egg dish sat and in the next some undercooked bacon. My husband was explaining that most Spanish just have some bread and cheese for breakfast or occasionally an egg tortilla. "Well that means that they do not know any better that's all. I need to tell them that we like our eggs and bacon cooked a little more." Good luck with that one dad I said. That evening my dad was back at our door. "Does your toilet flush ok?" Yes dad. "Well your mother and I are changing rooms. I think that shower head is getting ready to fall off." Dad, do you need some help? "No, we just wanted to tell you we were moving up the hall." My husband was shaking his head with amusement. "What is wrong in their bathroom?" Don't ask I said. The next morning my father told us that the air conditioning in his new room was so cold that he had to turn it down not once but twice! We pretended not to look when he put his bacon through the toaster oven. My mother looked at me and said that when my father walked up to the reception desk for the 4th time in 2 days the staff seemed to scatter. On day three my father had another sleepless night where their air conditioning was on the fritz. Well be grateful it is 10 degrees colder than normal this time of year I told him. "I think their damn air conditioning is whatever the hell they say it is" my father said angrily. I could sense a storm brewing and was grateful that we had an early start that day so that another confrontation with the hotel staff could be avoided. Each day the story of the air conditioning changed. On day four there was a large wedding party at the hotel and the air conditioning was running perfectly. My dad insisted to anyone who would listen that there was a conspiracy afoot going on to only run the air when the hotel had a big event or when there were a great deal of complaints. "They are trying to save a buck or two at our expense." Dad glared at the reception staff upon check out and advised them in no uncertain terms that they needed to get their air conditioning fixed and learn to cook their bacon properly.
My mom and dad had a great time in Spain. They were already talking about coming back next year much to our surprise. I think I would like to see Italy my dad admitted. Well at least you can find bolognese there I told him. His good mood lasted upon our return to England. We took them both to Windsor castle, the Churchill museum in London and they experienced their first trip on the London tube. When I asked him if he would like to visit the Buckingham or Kensington palace my mom and dad said maybe next year. "If you have seen one palace you have seen them all right?" Ahhh... right dad.
Towards the end of their visit the cursed, washer/dryer combo unit finally broke down for the last time. I was secretly relieved. That does it I told Mr. Jeopardy. I want a real washer and a real dryer- not some cooked up combo unit which is against nature and all common sense. My husband was sick to death of the washer/dryer complaints. "Well order yourself a dryer then!" We have no room for it I replied, where will we put it? Put it in the closet upstairs. I ran to the phone and quickly made a deal with the landlord. He would buy me a proper washer and I would spring for my own real live tumble dryer. I delighted in sharing my happiness with my mom who was overjoyed herself after a go around with the dreaded combo unit. Mom, I asked- what was your initial experience with the washer/dryer unit in England? I will put it in my blog. "I don't have much hands on experience with your machine here other than taking my wet clothes out of it since it does not seem to be working. You seem to really need a good back-up plan living here in this country. If I lived here I would have a good strong clothes line and a drying rack in every room!" Mom, most households do but I am getting a brand spanking new dryer I yelled out with glee.
The next morning my new washer arrived. The delivery men rolled it into the kitchen and asked if I would like it unpackaged. "No she plans on doing laundry with it still in the box" my dad barked out. The delivery boys glanced anxiously at him. Dad, let them do their job. They took my beautiful, shiny new washer out of the packaging and set it gently on the kitchen floor. After they left my dad unhooked the hose to check the connections. A small stream of water streamed from the hose. "What the hell is this?" my dad wondered aloud. He started shaking his head in disgust. "This damn thing has been used and sent back. They re boxed it and sold it to you." Dad, I think they probably just tested it before they shipped it from the warehouse. "Bullshit, you have been shipped a used machine." My mom whispered to me- "he thinks everything is a conspiracy anymore, it's all those sniper books your fathers been reading." "I cant see a damn thing here my dad continued. Get me a flashlight." I handed my dad our ten year old energizer with the fading fluorescent lights. "What the hell is this? This isn't a flashlight! Don't ever call this a flashlight! Jesus Christ, what would you two do if there was a power outage?" Well, I guess we would just use candles. My dad looked at me with disgust. "Ed, get Margie and Jeff a flashlight for her birthday." My mom had her little memo pad out. She was a huge list maker. "Flashlight, she repeated. Any certain kind Bob?" "Yeah one that works" he said with sarcasm. "We will get you one for Christmas honey" said my mother who was delighted to have an idea for a Christmas gift already. My dad continued to mutter while looking at the machine and back to the manual. I knew we were on dangerous ground here. My dad and appliance installations are a dangerous mix with a checkered past. Dad, do you want me to call Jeff and ask about the connections? Maybe we should just wait for him since I need to get to work. "Do you think he wants to be bothered with this shit? Leave the man alone. Get him a flashlight if you want to do him any favors." Margie, go on to work and let your dad calm down. My mom ushered me out of the door and I was glad to leave the looming danger behind.
When I got home that evening the scene had altered slightly in the kitchen and my husband was now in the mix attempting to install the washer. Mom has dad been working on this all day? "No he gave up midafternoon and took a nap" she assured me. Within minutes my dad and my sweetheart had it connected and in place. "Well, your washer is in but it doesn't fit my husband said. The landlord will need to refit the cabinet skirting." I don't care, it is in and it's staying in! I had a load in the wash before my husband could change his mind. "Margie, listen my dad told me if that dryer gets here before we leave I will put it in for you." My mom stood behind my dad miming a cutting motion at her throat. Thanks dad but it should not arrive until next week. My mother added that I could call the States and my dad could advise me over the phone. "It would be safer that way anyway" she added.
My mom and dad left way too soon. I cried as they went through security. "Honey, we will bring them back next year" my sweetheart promised me. "Your dad can eat spaghetti for weeks on end". A few weeks later I received a card in the mail from my mom. It had £20 enclosed in the envelope. I found this in the bottom of my purse when we got home my mom had written. We had a great time and we love you. It was signed "The International Travelers."
My mom and dad left way too soon. I cried as they went through security. "Honey, we will bring them back next year" my sweetheart promised me. "Your dad can eat spaghetti for weeks on end". A few weeks later I received a card in the mail from my mom. It had £20 enclosed in the envelope. I found this in the bottom of my purse when we got home my mom had written. We had a great time and we love you. It was signed "The International Travelers."
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