Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Traveling with your parents...

Let me start by saying that I am grateful that I have the opportunity to (as my mom says) "make memories" with my family while traveling.  In the close proximity of traveling with family, particularly internationally, there are certain quirks that may not be as appreciated as others.  Like most of the things my dad brings to the table... those are the not as appreciated, but probably should be appreciated because I'll miss them dearly when I no longer have these opportunities.  

Let's start with pre-travel packing "issues."  My lovely, but aging parents could single handedly fund their own gyogszertar (pharmacy) in Hungary.  If you had a clue of the pills they took on a daily basis, you'd think that they were working on making an elixir for life.  In their defense, they are fairly healthy, but really.  My dad has am pills, pm pills, pills for before eating, pills for after eating (dessert pills perhaps?) and drops for his eyes to top everything off.  Don't worry, there are charts to mark down when he puts what drops in which eyes.  Then there is the eye patch... I won't even go there.  All of these things take a calculated amount of time to prepare for when coming up to a trip.  It's basically the only thing my dad is in charge of in terms of packing, other than 42 sudoku books and an occasional three inch anthology of presidents.  God only knows why he needs a book for "easy sudoku" one for "hard sudoku" - there is one thats "complicated sudoku" and best of all, his new "Christmas sudoku."  What the hell makes it Christmas sudoku?  You guessed it, red and green colored paper.  While my mom and I were futzing with our right controller (see post from yesterday) my dad was trying to get to the "games" on his television, and then trying to figure out how the hell to put the numbers in.  Really? You have five inches of sudoku books - why the eff are you bothering with these stupid airplane controllers?  

...I digress....

For those of you who know my parents or have followed my writing before, you know that my dad appreciates the little things.  Whether it be a branch that's caddy-whampous (is that how you spell that?) or a leaf the size of his face.  It could be a man hole cover, or a gutter that seems to flow the wrong direction.  He notices it all.  We are standing looking at the Coliseum in Rome, and he notices that a dog is walking down the street and is fascinating to him because it's an "Italian dog."  Don't get me wrong, he was impressed by the Coliseum, but its the little things that really impress him.  For example, our trip to the great market yesterday.  My dad hates shopping.  With a passion.  He has a sudoku book with him at all times (travel size mind you - which he did NOT pack for the trip) in case the shopping becomes too intense and he needs to find a chair and rest for a bit.  We walked into the great market hall - which is impressive - and he could have spent hours there.  At one point, he told my mom and I that we were walking too fast, and he couldn't stop to see everything.  
 
My dad was so impressed by this cauliflower.  Admittedly, it was freaking huge, but it's cauliflower dad.  Don't you know that there are cheap, crappy souvenirs for us to peruse upstairs?  Let's keep moving.  


Mom and dad in the great market - designed by the Frenchman Eiffel.  Yes, the one you're thinking of. 

My other favorite part of traveling with my dad is the way he takes things in and is easily fascinated by things that are different.  Perhaps it's because he didn't travel extensively until retirement, perhaps it's because he's crazy, I don't know.  My dad is a watcher.  He likes to watch other people.  He likes to watch Fox news.  He likes to watch my mom.  He likes to watch machinery at the European breakfast nook in our hotel. 

Nothing pleases me more than watching my dad watch other people trying to figure out the cappucino machine, or more recently, the orange juice machine.  You have to push certain buttons for what beverage you desire, and my dad just wants coffee.  A large, mediocre, free-refillable cup of mcDonalds coffee.  Well, that's not a choice on the cappucino machine.  You can get "frothy milk" "espresso" "cappuccino" "long milk" etc.  None of these are the type of coffee my dad is used to.  So what the hell does he push?  By this trip, I'm used to just getting his coffee for him so he can stop and watch people as they choose their buffet foods.  I do love the choices on the different machines though, and watching to see if he pushes the right buttons, and puts the cup in the right place so it actually makes it into the cup he put there.  

Who knows what the hell is happening here... but he ended up with some frappy-dappy something or other in his cup.

I'm not even going to get in to the orange juice machine....


The last thing I love about my dad, is how he dutifully follows my mom around.  She wanted to do some shopping while out last night - and hells bells, my dad was not warned of said shopping, therefore ill prepared with no sudoku book in hand- he just had to endure.  As you can see below, he is thoroughly enjoying himself at the H&M.  He just stands inside the doorway, where there is the most direct heaters and waits.  patiently.  as long as he needs to. 

That is family travel love.

Note to the readers: In this picture, my dad has on long underwear - top and bottom - an undershirt, a long sleeved shirt, a columbia vest and a winter jacket - with fleece lined jeans of course.  All of that, and he still looks like he's never braved a MN winter.  Yeesh. 






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