Arrive in Madrid, Meet Harrie and Sonja

Th 2/16/17

Smooth flight from Detroit Metro to Paris, superb service from attendants on Delta. But—kid in middle aisle screaming because mom put his luggage in overhead. Continues until he falls asleep, resumes when he wakes up. Food excellent for dinner (vegetarian) and breakfast (neutral). Meanwhile, complimentary wine and beer flow all night until lights out; flow resumes in morning. Emily and I sit in different rows on flight to Madrid.

Emily kibitzes until takeoff with woman from the Philippines: kids, weather, travel itinerary. I smile at man on each side of me, don’t talk. It’s a man thing.

Glad to travel with Emily, who is fluent in Spanish and can fake it in every other language. Helped us get to the hotel from the airport when we got lost twice, Emily asked taxi drivers for directions. I hesitate when I say “Bonjour” to the attendant. Don’t want to screw up. Fortunately I have a charming smile.

Trip to Spain is life-long fantasy for Emily. Happy to share it with her.

Interesting observation about the flight data chart on flight to Paris: Data differ from seat to seat. When I was 1590 feet in the air, Emily was 1722 feet. Obviously the plane was tilted.

Fun fact: The plane will not automatically crash if one person forgets to put his phone on airplane mode. Don’t ask me how I know.

In Madrid, Trump supporter complaining because there are too many foreigners.

Meet Harrie and Sonja at the hotel. Eat, drink, lots of walking, visit Plaza Mayor, more eating and drinking. Watching the news on TV now as we wind down after a long day that started yesterday. Trump is just as much of an embarrassment in Spanish as he is in English.

Our First Day in Italy: Rome

Major exciting first “day” in Rome, one of those 48-hour types.

We were well prepared for the trip. Leading up to it, we (note: In most cases where I say “we,” I mean Emily, the Wachsberger family travel agent) purchased Euros from the bank; got international drivers’ licenses; photocopied our drivers’ licenses and passports; and called the credit card companies to alert them to not be surprised if they saw entries coming in from Italy or the Netherlands. We bought an international travel adapter so I could use my laptop in Italy. As we were packing Wednesday I discovered that it was good throughout Europe—except Italy and Switzerland. Radio Shack, where we purchased it, didn’t have any for Italy. Fortunately, Staples did so we made a last-minute exchange.

At Detroit Metro, we were randomly selected to not have to be scanned. We didn’t have to take off our shoes or belts. I didn’t have to take my laptop out of my knapsack. No one asked if we had accepted any packages from total strangers. We must have looked nonthreatening. One of the guards told us if we signed up at we could be randomly selected more often.

The flight was packed—269 passengers, I believe, was the official count—but it was smooth all the way. I’m an observer type of traveler. I observe people. I observe my feelings while I’m observing people. Then I space everyone out and read or write. Emily, on the other hand, talks to everyone.  Thanks to Emily, I learned that the couple who got on the bus with us from the parking lot to the airport were on their way to visit their granddaughter in DC. The young man standing in front of us in line to the plane was returning to his home in Dusseldorf, Germany, after living in Detroit for two years and working at TRW. His wife, a marine biologist, was forced to take a boat home due to an inner-ear infection that made air travel a prohibitive activity. Topics Emily covered with the woman seated behind us in the plane while we waited for it to take off included our kids, the woman’s home in the Netherlands and places where she’s traveled, the upcoming holidays in Rome, and the BRCA1 cancer gene. Every discussion always touches on the weather, sometimes as the icebreaker, though Emily seldom requires that weak crutch to get started.

Meanwhile, the guy sitting next to me commented on my interesting handwriting as I was jotting down notes. I think it was his kind way of saying he couldn’t read what I was writing because it was so sloppy. I didn’t tell him that it was simply sloppy handwriting, a practice I employ so strangers sitting next to me on airplanes can’t read what I’m writing. He was on his way back to his home in a city in India that I didn’t understand when he pronounced it but I smiled and said, “Oh yeah, I have a friend from there. Great food.”

Emily lasted about a half hour once the flight began and then fell asleep. She slept most of the way except for meals. I admired the full selection of entertainment opportunities. There were about three dozen TV shows, including HBO and Showtime. Unfortunately, most were shows I had never watched and didn’t care to watch. I read the titles of the twelve movie options and selected The Interns, with Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, because I had seen it before and thought it was funny. The twist this time: It had Hebrew subtitles. I don’t know why and I didn’t know how to get rid of them so I made a game of seeing how many of the Hebrew words I understood. I think I understood one.

Note on the food: If you want to get served early, order a special meal. We ordered the vegan. Big mistake, on one hand. Breakfast, for instance, was highlighted by a white bagel with jelly. But we were served first.

We arrived at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam Thursday morning a half hour before boarding time for the second leg of our trip to Rome. I guess they didn’t get the message that I was nonthreatening. I got taken aside and received the full terrorist treatment including full body scan. But I was pleased to discover that Schiphol offered free Wi-Fi for a half hour. That was more than I needed to catch up on my email.

We flew to Rome in another packed flight. Emily made that observation to me as I was writing the same words in my notes. After 36 years together, we don’t have to finish sentences anymore.

I was enchanted by what appeared to be mountainous clouds. Then I realized they were the snow-covered German Alps. Once we crossed the Alps, cumulus clouds covered the ground below. When I looked up through the window I saw cirrus clouds overhead and imagined I was part of a cloud sandwich.

Most special features in Rome involved food or sites. After checking in at our hotel, we went out to Ristorante Andrea where we had our first Italian pizza. Other than Geraci’s, it was one of the best pizzas I’ve ever had. (If you’re from Cleveland, you know what I’m talking about.) An added bonus to that lunch was the roasted peppers in olive oil. They don’t give you parmesan cheese to sprinkle on their pizzas—I think it’s almost an insult to ask for it so I didn’t. But the peppers in olive oil made a spicy topping to the pizzas (one topped with mushrooms, the other with anchovies). Another lesson I learned: You don’t tip in Italy; the tip is included in the price.

Other observations during our afternoon stroll: There are no stop signs in Italy; you cross the street at your own risk. Narrow streets prohibit many cars; motorcycles predominate.

We’re staying at a hotel that looks to be four small rooms and an office on one floor of an apartment building. It’s clean, the bed is firm, and it has free Wi-Fi and a bidet, one of which I used to full advantage. We took a quick nap; by the time we awoke, Harrie and Sonja had arrived. Harrie is my adopted brother from the Netherlands. He stayed with us as a foreign exchange student in 1968-9 and has remained close to the family since then. They’ll be sharing our Italy adventure for the next nine days.

What did we do tonight: food, sites, lots of walking, and catching up on family news. We walked to the Coliseum. What a magnificent structure, showing the best that slave labor can accomplish. No Christians were sacrificed today; it’s a national holiday in Italy, All Hallow’s Eve. According to Sonja, AHE is observed in the Netherlands mostly by visiting graves of loved ones. Here in Rome, Halloween is slowly gaining popularity, as shown by the many kids we saw in costumes.

Back at the hotel, Emily and I watched The Cosby Show and Law and Order: SVU in Italian. Emily used her Spanish fluency to follow the plots. SVU to me was a repeat so I used my memory of the first time I saw it. Who needs Italian when you’ve got repeats?

Emily is sound asleep now. I should be, too, but I’m wired. Also, it’s only 9:15 p.m. Oh no, it’s 2:15 a.m. Rome is five hours ahead of Ann Arbor—normally they would be six hours ahead but they went off Daylight Savings Time last week and we still are on it for another week. Better get used to the new time zone.