will WE play in Peoria?

OK, so the trains were still running when we got to the train station to go back to Sitges and our hotel. All anyone would tell us was “platform 9. free.” Bill finally figured out that there was just a guy standing at the turnstile handing out tickets to people who walked up and said “Sitges.”

We went to this magical platform 9 and waited. A train came and we got on it. I asked Bill if it was a train to Sitges. He admitted he didn’t know. He hadn’t noticed the monitors on the platform telling what train was coming in next. Great. So we rode for a few minutes before we figured out that no, this was not the train to Sitges. It was the train to the airport. End of the line. So we just stayed on the train to wait to go back. Instead of returning to the main station, Bill figured out a closer station where we could make the connection to Sitges. So we got off there. It was a small station… not much more than a platform. Bill found a timetable (so one does exist) and figured out which train we’d need to take… and when the last train to Sitges would be. (So there IS a last train!) Pretty soon, Kaitlyn started dancing around. She had to go to the potty. We dashed up the escalator. The guard told us there’s no toilet in the train station. On the train. We went back to the platform where Kaitlyn’s dance got more and more intense. Even if the train that shows up (it was now late) does have a toilet, since it’s late there’s no way of knowing when it will arrive… or knowing until it shows up if there’s really a toilet.

Finally out of desperation, Bill took Kaitlyn down the platform away from the waiting crowd and behind a big pillar so she could pee like a bum. (You do what you have to do.) She came running back and I saw Bill following far behind, holding something in his hand. I asked Kaitlyn what he was holding and she pulled up her dress to expose her naked self to everyone waiting for the train and announced loudly like only a little kid can do “my underwear!”

The train arrived a couple of minutes later. It did have a toilet.

After our eating fiasco in Lisbon, we gave ourselves permission to eat at the Hard Rock Cafe wherever we go. There is no shame in missing something familiar. When looking up the address on line the other day, I discovered that you can sign up for a reservation on the Internet. Naturally, I did. When we got to the restaurant (which is right by the Metro stop, very convenient) they had our name on their little list and we went right to our table.

Kaitlyn was excited to have macaroni and cheese. I was excited to have everyone speak to me in clear, precise English. They knew what they wanted to say and how to say it. How refreshing.

Once we were sufficiently stuffed, we took a stroll down Las Ramblas. Rick Steves describes it as a “must.” The first challenge was convincing Kaitlyn that every one of the souvenir stands had the same junk and that there’s no reason to stop and examine everything for sale at each and every one. Next we came across the street performers. She wanted to watch but was a little scared. So I was the one who had to go put coins in the buckets of the women dressed like fairies… who then waved their wands over my head as if that were magical. Kaitlyn liked it.

Then we came to the florists and pet shops. Immediately, Kaitlyn informed us (again) that she wants a pet. We reminded her that there will not be a pet in our home until we move back to the United States. Fine. She accepted that pretty easily. But convincing her not to buy a plant was frustratingly difficult. Finally, Bill acquiesced and bought her this, uh, thing. It’s kinda like a Chia Pet. It’s a head you put in water then after you wait an unspecified amount of time, grass sprouts out of its head. The box showed the grass tied up in bows. Kaitlyn is now convinced she’ll be able to style this thing’s hair like a princess. Oh, I cannot wait!

We arrived at one of the biggest train stations in Barcelona, if not the biggest. As we were walking through to the metro side, I wondered to myself “When is the last train back to Sitges?” I didn’t see anything remotely helpful… not even the word Sitges… on any of the reader boards we passed. So I posed my question aloud. All I got then was a brief lecture on planning. I walked away from that and marched up to a desk touting in English that it was the place for “brief questions.” The answer to my first brief question “Do you speak English?” was “not really.” Not a promising start. So I plowed ahead and asked when the last train is to Sitges. “Platform 9.” What time? “platform 9. is free.” Is not helpful. I was beyond mad. I pointed angrily at my wrist “WHAT TIME?” “platform 9.”

I gave up on the information desk and walked over to an automated ticket machine. I figured I’d just try to buy the last ticket to Sitges. It didn’t have Sitges in as a destination. Some woman who’s part of a force of “helpers” tried to offer assistance. All she offered was more frustration; she had no clue what we were trying to accomplish.

Finally we just left the train station and figured that we were too tired to be out late enough for the trains to have stopped running anyway.

What a fine welcome to Barcelona.

After a lunch that was really just a big snack (I ate pretzels and cream cheese), we were ready to catch the train to Barcelona for our dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe. Friends who recommended this hotel said that it is what they had done with no trouble. I had tried looking up the train schedule on the internet, but couldn’t make much sense of it, other than to figure out there’s a train to Barcelona a couple of times an hour all day long. So I didn’t worry about it.

Our friends said they had gotten to the train station by taxi. Which was our plan too. But when we left the hotel, we just sorta started walking down the promenade. I guess I thought it wouldn’t be too far to an area where we could find a taxi. We never found one. Not until we got to the train station… nearly an hour later.

After the long walk (including a stop for a hot dog and another stop for an ice cream)… we had to wait for the train. But the tickets were free. I don’t know why. I just was glad to finally be on the way to Barcelona.

I chose our hotel because it is across a promenade to the beach. What none of the others who’d stayed here and recommended the hotel bothered to mention: the beach next to the hotel is a pebble beach. The rest of the resort is sand. From here, it’s a pretty good walk.

We found this out this morning after breakfast. Kaitlyn wore her bathing suit to breakfast to make sure the beach wouldn’t be far behind. And even though she said she didn’t want to sit outside to eat because it was “too cold,” she insisted it would be fine at the beach.

I went back to our room with a bag of groceries from the convenience store in the hotel while Bill and Kaitlyn took her new shovel and pail to the beach to play. When I went back out to find them I found that the trek to the sand is far enough to eliminate the convenience of the hotel being “on” the beach. We could have stayed somewhere blocks off the beach and had the same walk.

When I finally met up with them, Bill told me to put my feet in the water. It was freezing! And there was Kaitlyn: running, splashing, sitting in the ice water having a grand time. She’d get herself all wet then run back to the beach and rub sand all over herself then run back into the ocean to “wash” it off and start all over. I guess the rock beach would have at least been cleaner.

After a while her teeth actually started chattering and we told her we had to go back to the hotel. She managed to convince us that it would be a good idea to go to the hotel’s hot tub.

While I changed into my bathing suit, Bill put Kaitlyn in the bathtub to rinse a gallon of sand off her and her suit.

We found the hot tub… and found it to be just as icy as the ocean. So was the pool. But that didn’t stop Kaitlyn. She zipped on her swimming vest and got in. I was ok sitting in the sun on a lounge chair, but Bill realized Kaitlyn was actually shivering in the pool. We dragged her out and went inside.

Maybe May is premature for time in the Mediterranean.

I called the hotel from the road to tell them we’d be getting in a little after 10pm. The confirmation e-mail they sent told me to do just that; it says the office is not open past 10. So I cal land the woman who answers is confused because there’s no reason to call, the office is open all night, it’s a hotel. She was also confused because she said she didn’t have my reservation. I looked at the e-mail I’d printed out. 7/5/2008. Yes, that is today. She told me not to worry, she’d figure it out. After a couple of minutes of worrying.. I stopped.

By the time we got to the hotel, I’d forgotten about the phone call. I went to the lobby, gave my name and the woman said “oh, you called earlier.” Then I remembered. She said she’d found the problem. Someone in her office had put in our reservation for the 8th of May, not the 7th. At that moment, I realized what happened. When I’d called with my credit card number to hold the reservation, I changed the first night to tomorrow… because I’d realized Bill wasn’t off today… and to make the 6 and a half hour drive after he got home would be crazy. (Instead he left work at 2:30.) So I had just packed the car and made my family rush to get here 24 hours early.

The hotel clerk said not to worry she had a room for us. Same kind we’d reserved. We won’t have to move to another room tomorrow.

Bill keeps telling me it isn’t that stupid a mistake. I’m not so sure I agree. I’ll try.

I love Spain. (so far)

Not far over the border, we stopped for gas. I went inside to use the bathroom and found the mini market was like a mini paradise. Right there above the milk – a giant chunk of Philadelphia cream cheese. I bought it. I have no idea what I’ll put it on. Maybe just a spoon.

Then Bill came in and found the display of Cheetoes. We bought two bags of those.

We also bought some “self-heating” cocoa and tea. You push the bottom of the cup, shake it up, and the drink (and cup) get hot. You probably have those in the U.S. But we don’t in France.

We are so going to find a Carrefour in Spain before we leave.

This afternoon I was home trying to nap when the phone rang. I always hesitate to answer because there’s a good chance the person on the other end will be speaking French. But I took a chance. I was right… it was someone speaking French. It was Kaitlyn’s teacher calling to tell me she didn’t feel well and can I pick her up?

I went right to the school to get her, and she was standing by the door in her coat, holding her backpack. She did look a little pale. The teacher told me that it was most unusual that Kaitlyn didn’t eat much lunch today (she eats at school on Mondays). The assistant who eats with the kids confirmed it. “D’habitude, Kaitlyn mange boucoup et boucoup.” (Normally, Kaitlyn eats lots and lots).

I brought her home where we flopped down on the couch to rest. At one point she did seem to have a fever. But around dinner time she asked for some nacho chips and after eating those, ate a bowl of rice. Then some raspberries she found in the fridge. So I don’t know if she’s really sick or if she was just worn out from vacation. I guess we’ll see tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s the aftermath of a terrible time in Lisbon. Bill is upstairs on the computer actually looking up information about our next vacation. Well, he’s looking up pictures on Google Earth. It’s a start. I don’t mind planning everything… but it’s nice to think he has some clue what we’re going to see. He also found Discovery Channel has links to videos of different cities. Maybe now he can be the vacation planner and I’ll just go along for the ride.

I dragged myself down to the Petit Casino this morning for some basic foods so we can eat without having to go to the pizza truck tonight. It was packed; I think the whole world came back last night from vacation and rushed to get some basics before the store closed at noon.

When I got home I was working on the laundry and Bill came in to help. He said “you’re doing both the shopping and the laundry?” Uh, that’s what I do everyday. The shopping and the laundry. What does he think I do????