The Forbidden City is Still Forbidden

To us, at least.

Blogging here has proved challenging...I have to borrow Sophie's chromebook, get online, try to vpn...so my posts here may be sparse and out of order. I say that, because I'm about to skip yesterday's trip to the Great Wall and jump ahead to today.

Today was our first day truly on our own. Friday was our arrival day, and yesterday we had a guide, so today was the first time we could really have the experience of being foreign tourists in China.

If I had to grade us, I'd give us about a C-.

I think of myself as a pretty savvy traveler. I've been all over the US and Western Europe, been to India twice, and Central America. Not bad for 40, I think. But China has been an entirely different challenge. And it's completely due to the language barrier. I've always kind of taken it for granted that no matter where you go, people will have some modicum of English. And that I can get by with a couple of trite words  in the local language (hello, thank you, where's the bathroom). But in China? Uh-uh. Nobody....nobody speaks English. Very, very few people seem to have even a couple of words. At our hotel? No. At the restaurants? No. At Starbucks? No. Even our guide yesterday only had very limited English. I've never had my ethnocentricity thrown back in my face with such force!

Here are some examples.

We have a washer and dryer in our hotel room, which is one reason I chose it. How great to be able to do some laundry! Only...the washer is all in Chinese, as is the laundry detergent. It's sheer luck if I don't ruin all of our clothes:

More evidence, seen on the street this morning:

Who knew that Marco Polo was here in 2010??

So needless to say, we've got a major handicap when it comes to figuring out how things work and getting around. And today, it resulted in a major fail: we had to skip seeing the 2 major landmarks in Beijing: Tiananmen Square (site of the student protests and massacre of 1989) and the Forbidden City.

(Sidenote: I realize that I sound like a major ass here. I am in another country, and it's not their fault that I don't speak Chinese, and I ought to have no expectation of their speaking my language. I'm making observances for illustrative purposes only!!)

The day started auspiciously. After being fleeced by the hotel yesterday for breakfast, Marco and I thought we'd head out early this morning and find some pastries and coffee to bring back to the hotel. So down we are at 7:30 am, scouring the streets for a place that might be open that early on a Sunday. We find an open Starbucks, and knowing that the kids will go nuts for some frappucinos, we head in to order. And since it's Starbucks, we could generally get the point across regarding the drinks we wanted, although there was some confusion which resulted in the acquisition of a green tea latte. Either way. Pumped up by our success, we headed back to the hotel, even stopping in a Chinese pastry shop for some local delicacies--which we were able to order by pointing at the items and holding up the relevant number of fingers.

We arrived back at the hotel, fed the kids, regrouped, and were ready to tackle our day--seeing 2 of China's most famous sites. They were both walking distance from our hotel, so no problem! The sun was shining, and there was an unusually high air quality in the city. Nothing could stop us.

Until we tried to cross the street.

When we arrived at the general area of Tiananmen Square (which lies directly south of the entrance to the Forbidden City), we were walking along a pretty large boulevard with several lanes of fast-moving traffic. There didn't seem to be a good way to cross the street aboveground, but there were several openings along the sidewalk to underground walkways that would take you across to the square. At least, it appeared that way. When we came to the first of these walkways, and started to head down, a couple of people stopped us, shaking their heads no. "Tiananmen Square?" we said hopefully, indicating why we wanted to cross. A guard indicated roughly with his arm that we should continue down the street. OK. So we walked back up to the sidewalk and continued to walk. And walk. And looked for signs or any indication as to where we could cross for the Square. Eventually, we just decided that we should cross through the underground passage anyway, and did so, arriving right outside the square. Now why the guard hadn't wanted us to cross before we'll never know, but it was clearly the right thing to do. 

So we emerged outside the square, but it was sheer pandemonium. People everywhere, milling about. We couldn't see what was happening, there were no signs that had anything other than Chinese characters, and no one we could ask. To me, Tiananmen Square was a public piazza, something you'd just walk through, but apparently not. There were long lines of people waiting to get into the square, passing through metal detectors and apparently buying tickets. The line seemed to go for a mile, and without being able to ask questions to anyone, it didn't look like we were going to be able to get in. Well, that's a bummer, but very well--we'd skip Tiananmen. It would save us time, anyway, to just visit the Forbidden City.

The entrance to the Forbidden City would be back across the other side of the street we'd come from, so we glanced across the way. Lines. Everywhere. Even worse. This did not look to be happening either. But we made our way back across the street, to see if there was a better way in.

The Forbidden City is a large complex, comprising many, many city blocks--after all, it was the Emperor's palace. From our trusty DK guidebook, it appeared that there may be many gates into the palace. So forgoing the hours-long line out front, we decided to head up the east side of the Forbidden City, to try to gain access through a side entrance. 

But we had to fight this crowd of people:

But we did it, mostly by Niccolo grabbing my hand, pushing through the crowd ("mom--I have to use my skinniness for something"), and dragging us behind him. And we did eventually arrive to a side entrance of the Forbidden City. It was a lot less crowded, and I started to silently congratulate myself on the tricky way we side-stepped the huge lines at the front. There was an open gate, and we started to walk through it. Mumble-mumble. A guard is talking at us in Chinese. He has a stern expression and is shaking his head. I'm guessing we can't get in this way. Maybe we need a ticket. We look around.  There are people everywhere, but no one looks like they might be able to help us. We try to understand. There's a line of people queuing up to our left, and we head over there, thinking maybe they are getting tickets. Nope--they're waiting for a bus. At least I think they are. We wander back. A couple of Chinese girls ask for a picture with me. I oblige. (Sidenote 2: this happens to me in Asia, where my bottle-blonde hair stands out like a sore thumb and turns me into a circus freak) We must look frustrated, because finally a couple of girls head over to us, asking if they can help us. In English. In English! We explain that we want to get in, and they tell us that we have to walk back 20 minutes to where we were originally. At this news, we all look at each other, take a final picture of the outside of the Forbidden City, and walk away. Time to admit defeat.

So no Tiananmen Square, and no Forbidden City.

In fairness, I've also never seen the Uffizi in Florence, or the actual David, and it took me more than one visit to Paris to go up the Eiffel Tower. I am destined to enjoy things from the outside. At surface-level. Sigh.

Here's a picture of one of the main gates to the Forbidden City (from the outside), where Chairman Mao in 1949 declared the advent of the People's Republic of China:

So, a traveler's fail today.

On the upside, we were able to see the Hutongs--which is the last part of Beijing where you can still see traditional courtyard houses. It was absolutely packed with people, but we did have lunch in an amazing restaurant called the Dali Courtyard.  Meals in China have been a super pleasant surprise! The food has been wonderful, and luckily, most restaurants have a sort of fixed-price menu (at least I think they do, we've never been able to communicate), where we just go in, sit down, they ask us something in Chinese, we shrug and answer "all good" in English, they go away, they bring us plate after plate of food, and then we pay. It works!

So we ate a fat meal, which included no fewer than 15 different items, including a whole fried flounder and mushrooms cooked in banana leaves.

Yum. But as always, there were only chopsticks to eat with (I'd read really good advice about bringing plastic forks with you, but sadly, didn't follow that advice). However, through a lucky accident, I found that there is a way to get a knife and fork: break your chopsticks. I tried so hard to spear a piece of cheese with my chopsticks that this happened:

And then they gave me these:

I guess the day wasn't a total fail.

Just Call me Santa, Cause I Flew Over the North Pole.

Did you know that's how you fly to China?

You fly over the North Pole. That's not how I pictured it at all....I pictured more of an East - West sort of thing...but there you have it. How cool is that? Proof:

See? There's our plane, flying over the world. I'm on top of the woooooorrrrrld!!!

Anyway, we made it over the North Pole, and landed in Beijing. And it was an exhausting, long 2 days. I mean, I knew it would be a long flight. but come on people.

To start with, we had a 4-hour drive to Toronto. After landing in a hotel around midnight Wednesday, we bounded back out of bed at 6 am, bleary-eyed but excited. We then rushed to Toronto airport to catch our flight back to Detroit. Now this may sound crazy to you, since I was already in Detroit. It's kind of like the time my family drove to the Mackinac Bridge at 4 am, waited in line 2 hours to be bussed across the bridge, only to walk back across it. But I digress. 

We flew out of Toronto, laying over in Detroit, because it saved us $500/ticket! For those, unlike me, who can do math, that's about $4,000 savings!! (I said I couldn't do math) So totally worth it. And it would have been, only once at the airport, we found that the plane was going to be delayed by 2 hours. With a 2 hour layover in Detroit, this left us, what...0 hours left to catch our Beijing flight. 

Pandemonium. 

I beg, I plead, I call Delta. I talk to the gate agent. I call Delta again. No other flights. No other flights unless we want to fly to Detroit at 9:00 that night, fly to New York, stay the night in New York, and then fly to Shanghai. (Wrong city, but Americans don't care, I guess) So we decide to tough it out and take our chances.

So how does this play out? 2 hours later, we board the plane, land in Detroit, push past several old people on the plane, run through the tunnel at DTW back to Terminal A (because of course, we've landed in the furthest terminal possible), and arrive last to the gate, to an irritated gate agent who grudgingly lets us on the plane. It's like that scene at the beginning of Home Alone. Only we don't leave any kids behind.

We board the plane, high-fiving each other for making it, and start unpacking our junk to settle in for the 14 hour flight. Ahhhhh....bliss.

Only an hour later, we're still sitting at the gate. After several delay announcement, it becomes clear that there is a problem with the plane, and we'll all have to get off, change gates, and board another plane due in from Amsterdam. 

Really??? We could have avoided the morning sprint through the airport.

So we deplane, change gates, and 2 further hours after that, reboard another one. At this point, we've been traveling for nearly 24 hours and haven't left town! 

Long story long, we're here. We arrived in Beijing. We've eaten squid on a stick, and seen a chopstick store. It's real now.

We're off to the Great Wall today...more to come.

Chairman Mao & Coca Cola

You know that I am feeling out of my element when I do amateur travel moves--like picking up local currency before leaving the States. That's the kind of move my parents make (no offense Randy and Lynn).

But this time...concerned that despite my calls to them, my banks will shut down my card and leave me penniless in Asia, I picked up some Chinese Yuan. (How do you even pronounce that?? You-ahn. Ywan. Wan. Who knows.)

Anyway, I'm not actually unfamiliar with the local currency exchange shop in Birmingham, as I head there at least once a year to pick up currency for--you guessed it--my parents. 

So while the gentleman working there was doing other low-tech amateur things involved in currency exchange like photo-copying my driver's license and finding exchange rate cards for me to put in my wallet, he did offer up some very interesting and compelling Chinese travel advice.

For instance:

Note the photo of my shiny, new 100-Yuan note below. He made me notice that it is plastered with a large rendering of Chairman Mao. He assured me that all Chinese banknotes will have Chairman Mao's face on them. 



If it doesn't have his face on it, then it is either Taiwanese (?? Apparently they will slip these into the change of unsuspecting tourists??) or "jiao"--which are coins. Paper coins. Paper coins? Yes, paper coins. Whatever. Instead of helpful, I found this slightly confusing and certainly anxiety-inducing. The key appears to be: Look for the Mao. 

Mantra for the trip: Look for the Mao.

Besides this, though, he gave me another tip. As a fairly seasoned traveler, I feel that I have the rule down that you DO NOT drink the water if ever in doubt. So as he started to tell me that I shouldn't drink the water, I was smirking on the inside.

But then he said something that totally validates my unhealthy existence.

He said that if I don't have enough bottled water to brush my teeth, that instead of turning to tap water, I should use coke. 

Coke!

He claims that this will work better, and will even disinfect your teeth.

I may take to doing this even here in Michigan!!

China: The Next Frontier.

....and I thought getting ready for an RV trip was rough.

The fact is, we are leaving for Spring Break in China in 3 days. (Oh---you didn't know that China was the hot new Spring Break destination?? Well it is.) And this time, I'm not running around like a crazy person worrying about whether I packed enough socks...I'm kind of freaking about about the loss of internet capability I expect to find in China.

In fact, this may be the only post that any of you ever read. Why? Apparently, the following sites are all blocked over there:

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, WordPress.com, Blogspot, Blogger, Flickr, SoundCloud, Google+, Google Hangouts, Google Play, Google, The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Bloomberg, Reuters, LeMonde, L’Equipe, Netflix, Youtube, Vimeo, Google News, Daily Motion, Wikipedia, Google Drive, Google Docs, Gmail, Google Calendar, Dropbox

Plus about 3,000 more.

Basically, the whole internet. I'm freaking out.

So I'm frantically downloading various VPNs to try to access anything while I'm there.

Wish me luck. If you don't hear from me, I'm not dead.

I'm just offline.

The Dreaded Campground Bath House

There is a LOT that concerns me when we talk about camping. I can think of about 3,000 reasons just off the top of my head why I don't like it, and don't ever want to do it.

1. Bugs.
2. Dirt.
3. Mess.
4. Hot.
5. Sweaty.
6. The Great Outdoors.

Yeah, I could go on and on, but you get it. Anyway, one of my TOP reasons for a total avoidance of camping is having to do all my necessaries OUTDOORS. By necessaries, of course I mean things like brushing my teeth. Showering. Peeing. And that is just the really necessary stuff. There's a whole lot of other things that I consider totally necessary, but I realize that others may not. This includes applying full make up, shaving my legs daily and straightening my hair with a good flat iron. Either way, it all gets done outdoors. Or in the RV, whatever, same difference.

Now when we took off on this little adventure, we hadn't yet de-winterized the RV. We hadn't filled up the water tanks, etc., because in Michigan, it was still falling below freezing at night, and we couldn't take the chance that the pipes might burst. So we took off, waterless, in our camper. Which really means that we were just in a huge freaking car. (As you'll remember, there was no heat and no electricity, so with no water either--I'm really not getting the point here. But I digress.) The long and the short of this is that I couldn't brush my teeth or shower in the RV...I'd have to hike down to the campground bath house and do those things there. Shall I tell you what this is like, in all its gory details? Yes, I shall.

Picture this. It's about 7:00 a.m. in the campground. Sun is pouring through the windows, the birds are chirping, fresh air abounds...so of course, even though it's vacation--you're awake. You peek bleary-eyed out of the top of your sleeping bag, and realize that you're in a sleeping bag. You shift around uncomfortably...man, do you have to pee! Your tongue is glued to the top of your mouth, and you realize that you could really use a glass of water, and to brush your teeth. But oh no! You can't just stumble over to the bathroom. There is no bathroom. You'll have to: put on clothes. Put on shoes. Go outside. Walk past about 23 other camp sites to the bath house. Oh wait, you have to get all of your toiletries to take with you. And your clothes. Oh yeah, and a towel. Shit. Is it worth it? Maybe you should just stay in bed. Nope! Gotta pee. Up you go. You get the picture.

So that's me. I get up, grab my suitcase full of toiletries (yes, I brought my CHI flat iron and salon-worth hairdryer, among other things), find some clothes, find my flip flops, and I'm on my way. I'm out the door, all is peaceful....nature....maybe this isn't that bad! Walking, walking. Crap! I forgot my towel! Back I go. Back to the camper, back to find a towel without waking everyone up. By the way--I haven't gotten dressed, so I'm walking around in public in my pajamas, that's how far I've sunk. Just giving you the visual here. Towel in hand, I stomp back down the path to the bath house.

The bath house. The dreaded bath house.

I approach and can hear showers running. So I guess I'll have company for my morning routine. That's grand! I open the door and peer to my left. What I see is a row of shower doors, all closed, all occupied. Crap again. I'll have to wait. I look down. I'm standing in about half an inch of muddy water that is coming from the general shower area. You've got to be kidding me. Aren't I here to clean myself? This is disgusting! Ew. With what I am sure is a totally snotty look on my face, I look to the right. A row of toilet stalls. I've gotta go, so I head in that direction. I open the first stall door. Yep, this one hasn't been cleaned since about 2012. Not happening. Stall 2 is closed. Stall 3: golden water, but no floaters. A possibility. Stall 4? Closed. We've got a winner! I tiptoe through the muddy water into Stall 3, grab handfuls of toilet paper and clean everything in sight. Business done, I return to the shower area in time to see one open up. I hurriedly rush to it, set down my bag on the little bench they provide, and then realize that the bench was covered in soapy water. And now, so is my bag. I look at the shower. It's wet everywhere, and there are gobs of  hairballs all over it. Seriously?? Christ, it's 7 am. Don't they ever clean these things?

Leaving my bag to hold the shower, I return to Toilet Stall 3 and retrieve gobs more toilet paper. Returning to my shower, I clean the whole. damn. thing. all the hair, dead bugs, and god knows what else. How can I get clean if the shower's not clean?? Sheesh! That done, I return to the task of actually taking a shower. I quickly strip down and take a look at the faucet. There is no handle, just a push button. Ohhhh Kaaaayyy. I push it. Water comes out, hard, like sharp needles, but it's at least hot--which is good, because there appears to be no way to make the water hotter or colder! I step in, and the water promptly shuts off. Huh. I push the button again. Water returns. OK, no problem. I stand under it, wetting down my hair. Water shuts off. Damn it! It must be on a timer. I push it again, step under, and count. 1-2-3-4....about 20 seconds. 20 SECONDS OF WATER, PEOPLE? I get wanting to save water, but 20 SECONDS? WTF. Fine. I will continue to soap and push.

After playing this game for about 15 more minutes (do you know how hard it is to try to shave your legs while pausing to turn the water back on??), I'm done. I towel off, and pull my clothes out of my bag, Promptly, my nice clean underwear fall out of the bag, and into the muddy water all over the floor. Nice. Commando it is! I'm able to get dressed the rest of the way without dropping any more clothing on the disgusting floor, and make my way over to the sinks for the rest of the beautification.

The sink area is happily only occupied by one other camper, leaving me with ample space to plug in all my electronics, and spread out my toiletries. I go to the farthest sink, and set down my now wet and soapy bag. Want to hazard a guess as to the general cleanliness? Yep, you're right. Back to my favorite Toilet Stall for more of that useful toilet paper. I proceed to fully clean the dead bugs and hair out of my sink area. I swear I'm doing more cleaning of the bath house than of myself! They should be paying me. I plug in my flat iron and hair dryer, which elicits some strange glances from Ms. Granola down the way, but I ignore her. Instead, I begin applying several layers of face lotion, foundation, powder, blush, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick...you know--only the essentials. Granola-lover keeps sneaking strange looks at me, but she doesn't scare me. In fact, why is she still here, if she has no hairdryer or make up to apply? Anyway, I block her out by turning my hairdryer on full blast and proceeding to spend another 20 minutes getting my hair into place.

By the time I'm done, about an hour has passed, and I'm so hot and sweaty from cleaning the bath house, cleaning myself, and blow-drying with no air conditioning that I think I need another shower! But they're all full again, so I guess I'll skip that.

On to another day of camping!

Little to Report....Part Two.

Now where was I?

Oh yes. Fire.

So we set up camp, got the RV leveled and hooked up, and next our thoughts turned to food! It was about 7:00, and we were pretty hungry. Two days before, after much agonizing on Amazon over whether a propane or charcoal grill would be the way to go, I bought a small, $49 portable grill, that I figured could feed us.

Which way did I go? Charcoal of course. Why? Because I've never, ever used one. Neither has Marco. So of course, it seemed like the stupid wise decision. I ordered the grill, and even ordered some charcoal briquettes and some fancy-schmancy fire starters. We'd be fine, right? No need to practice. No need to buy anything else useful, like....say....lighter fluid. Oh no! I'm skilled at rubbing sticks together and causing charcoal to ignite. Yeah.

I decided that the 20 minutes of reading about making charcoal fires on Amazon through reviewers' advice made me the expert, so I set about to light up the grill. In the meantime, I sent Marco to build a bonfire. Since he'd made me steal all the wood, he should have to light it up. I opened up the top of the grill, and studiously read the directions that came with the grill. I also read the directions on my fancy fire starters. No problem! I can read. I can follow directions. We're good. First, I am supposed to lay the fire starters in the bottom of the grill, under the first grate, and light them.
Done and done. Easy-peasy.
Next, I am supposed to lay the charcoal over the grate, so that the fire starters ignite the coal, and get it hot. No problem. Laying down charcoal. Third, I am supposed to replace the top with the vents open, so that the charcoal gets hot, but the fire doesn't go out. Done. I peer through the vent holes. I see fire. We're good. I walk away, pretty pleased with myself, and go to check out how Marco is doing with the campfire.

I walk over to where I see a huge cloud of smoke, figuring that this must be our campfire. In the middle of the cloud, I find Marco, who is poking at the logs that he has built into a beautiful teepee. "We need more branches for kindling," he says. "Did you bring any lighter fluid?"
Oh yeah, lighter fluid. "We don't need it," I say. " I bought these fire starters" I trot back to my picnic table and grab one of them. He throws it in the fire. "No," I say. "You have to light it around the edges, see?" I kneel down and use my lighter on it. It flares up for a moment, produces a beautiful flame for about 20 seconds, and dies away. "No," Marco says. "This will never work. These logs will never get hot enough. Even your dad, who is the king of fires, has lighter fluid." I shrug and leave him to it. I trot back over to my grill, lift up the lid, it seems warmish. I decide to put the hamburgers on. I shovel them onto the grate, replace the top, and go in search of a beer. That will help! I grab a PBR from the cooler--which sounded good, by the way, when I picked up a case back in Michigan--but honestly doesn't taste all that great. Either way, it's cold and alcoholic.

I head back over to Marco. A small fire is trying to gain life, but it's less smokey, so we've got that going for us. Marco is still cursing under his breath and collecting branches. Niccolo is blowing with all his might on the fire. More fire starters, that's what it needs. I go back to the grill and grab two more. I place them each strategically under the fire, light them up, and place the driest branches I can find in the flames. Slowly, slowly, the fire builds up, and now the logs are blazing. I have made fire. I HAVE MADE FIRE! Marco drops his sticks. "Let's check the burgers," he says.

We go back to the table and lift the top off the grill. Raw burgers. No heat. Charcoal has died. Marco looks at me.  "What?" I say. "It was lit!!" Thankfully, we have remembered to buy hot pads. I carefully lift the grate with the raw burgers off. "Well," I say. "We can just use more fire starters." "Fire starters!" Marco scoffs. "They don't do anything!!" Huh. Says he. I squeeze two more under the charcoal and light them up. "Let me do it," Marco says. "You go watch the bonfire." Ha. I  am the one that got the bonfire going. Fine. He can cook. I strut back to sit by my fire with my beer, leaving Marco and his mom to the burgers. It doesn't really matter if they ever get cooked. Sophie is speed-eating marshmallows that she's already roasting over the bonfire, and Niccolo's had about a pound of Swedish Fish in the past hour, so I don't suppose the kids will starve.

Sooner or later, though, we're called over to have some well-cooked burgers. Lesson learned. Marco = cook. Angie = fire. When we try for a Take Two tonight, we'll see if that formula sticks.

Actually, Little to Report. Part One.

I received an email from my mother last night, which said: "why do you have a blog if you're not going to update it?"

She's right, of course. But the truth is....this trip has been so far quite lacking in drama.

Now in fairness, I am currently staying in a sweet condo, which has running water, electricity, internet, several televisions, several bedrooms....you get the gist. Oh...I hadn't mentioned that I'd be cheating and staying in a condo? Well it's true. I bartered 3 nights for myself in a condo in Williamsburg, Virginia, as a salve to my sanity. So the long and the short of it is that I've only actually spent one night in the camper so far. But, for my loyal fans (I think just myself and my mother), I will recount the experience of that one night.

4:52 p.m., Friday, April 3.
We finally, after 8 long hours driving through the drearier parts of Ohio and Pennsylvania, arrive at the Friendly Village Campground. As my good friend Brion likes to quote from their website: "it's where lasting friendships begin." Not really sure I'm ready to make lasting friendships with the RV crowd, but whatever. We pull in to the registration office, and I hop out to announce our arrival. Doors closed. Doors locked. Lights out. Ohhhhh Kkkkkkk....nobody here. I return to the RV. "It's all locked up," I announce to Marco. He sighs, and gets out of the RV. We head back to the registration building. We walk around the building. We read all the signs. Then, after several minutes of hunting, we see a "Night Registration" box, with some little golf pencils and forms next to it. "I guess we can fill this out" I say. "But how do we know which site is ours?" Marco counters. Good point. Maybe it's in my email confirmation. Back to the RV. Get the phone. Search for the confirmation. Now it's been about 20 minutes, we're tired, rain is threatening, things are not looking good. Doom and gloom. When all of a sudden.....there it is!! I look up, see a map and a note thumbtacked to their bulletin board: CUCCO FAMILY. Boom! Saved.

We grab it, hop back into the RV, open up the map, and start following the purple highlighter to our RV site. On the way, we pass a large shed full of firewood. A large sign says that "FIREWOOD IS AVAILABLE FOR SALE AT MAIN OFFICE." Marco screeches The Beast to a halt. "We need firewood," he says. "You can't take that wood," I say. "You have to buy it at the office." (I'm always the well-behaved one) "The office is closed," he replies. "Come help me put some of this in the car."
Holy hell. NOW he's reducing me to thievery!! We hop down and I half-heartedly grab a small chunk of wood. "More," Marco says. Shit. I'm going to be in trouble I'm going to be in trouble I'm going to be in trouble. When Marco's done making me steal wood, we climb back in and head to our site.

It's the beginning of April in Pennsylvania, so the campground is nearly empty. An RV sits kitty corner from us, campfire already blazing. 2 sites down, an older couper in another camper are walking their golden retrievers (which elicits cries of dismay from my children, who are upset that we left our dog at home). We park, and I notice with some delight that we are RIGHT NEXT TO THE BATHROOMS. Now some people might think that's gross, but I'm thinking of having to walk out to it half-dressed in the middle of the night. My heart lifts a centimeter or two.

Now we've never actually set up an RV before, and we have to hook it up to the electric and level the thing. There are 2 electrical boxes next to us, each with several outlets. "I don't think this is 50 amp" Marco says. "They're ALL 50 amp," I counter. (Don't we sound professional?? I don't even know what 50 amp means.) He shrugs, drags the enormous orange hook up cord out of the back of the RV, and plugs it in. "Niccolo! Plug in your phone! Does it work???" we yell.  (insert Jeopardy music)...
....
....
"Yes!" we hear back.

Success!

I'm so happy. And here's why. I don't know the first thing about electricity. I'm no electrician. I don't know my voltage from my wattage. I can barely screw in a lightbulb. So imagine my dismay when early Friday morning when we were taking off, I discovered we had no electricity working in the RV (apart from the vehicle dashboard). In my mind--what the heck? Isn't the point of driving this big camper somewhere so that you can have all of the conveniences in the back while you're driving? Apparently not. Unless you are plugged in, there isn't enough power in the back to run anything other than some of the lights. So you have to plug inverters into the dash, and run extension cords to the back so that people back there can plug in.

Now in 2000, when my dear Beast was built, this was probably not much of a problem. But now, even my 75-year-old mother-in-law has her ipad, and they all want to run their devices non-stop.
So it was a bit painful for 8 hours making sure everyone had enough juice not to die of boredom on the road.

So now we have power!! Yay.

I can see that this is going to get long-winded, and I need to sign off for the moment...the natives are stirring around here, so I will post more later, and you can hear all about how we made fire.

....and We're Off!

As I write this, we are barreling down the road somewhere along the Ohio turnpike. Marco's about 3 hours into driving. Sophie's watching Harry Potter. Niccolo's playing Geometry Dash. Carlo's ranting about politics on Facebook. Anna's just sitting there watching the scenery. Pretty much as if we were back in Lathrup Village, sitting in our living room. So smooth sailing for now! But I promise it didn't start out that way.

Overheard by various parties in the past 12 hours:

"I hate this vacation. I really do. I hate this vacation."

"I'm just exhausted, Marco."

"I don't know why it's taking you so long to pack."

"We don't have any flashlights! We need flashlights! I'm not leaving without flashlights!"

"Fine. We're just turning around and staying at home, then."

"Are you telling  me we  have no heat or electricity in the RV for this whole trip?"

Yeah. So a rocky start, but we are now, as I say, happily barreling down the expressway. The sun is actually shining, despite the forecast of rain, and we do have heat in the camper, if not electric. However, some extension cords and invertors picked up at Rite Aid this morning are solving that problem, although the dash area now looks like this:

So while there have been tears (I've already cried twice) and meltdowns (it wasn't pretty in the driveway this morning), I can actually say I'm enjoying this for the moment.

Who knew?