Pompeii All The Way

Sorrento, Italy

It's sleepy? It's a flurry of activity? It's both?

It's Italy - they do what they want to do!

Arriving on this small stretch of the Amalfi Coast, we're met with steep hills smashing up right to the water's edge. We look out the window and catch a glimpse of the freeway - easily several hundred yards up. Huge bridges remind us of the Pacific Coast Highway - but the houses are nothing like Carmel.

We board a bus with about 40 others to head inland towards Pompeii and away from the ocean breezes that keep Capri cool. Switchbacks on a bus. With Italian scooters everywhere. The Lord love a bus driver in Italy. Nerves of steel.

KK and I take a seat on one side, Hubs and Bubs on the other. She's desperate to get a shot of Mount Vesuvius to show her bestie. I'll let her - because momma is anxious to see it, too!

It's a double-topped mountain. Didn't know that. 

And the smaller side erupted. Didn't know that.

And the lava and ash had to make it over 6 miles to destroy Pompeii. Didn't know that either.

Now that the town has rebuilt - the locals are right up next to the volcano all over again. Funky apartment dwellings dot every inch - save a few fields for sunflowers and tomatoes. Apparently there  are lots of cheese manufacturers in town, too.

Sign me up!

We arrive with 976 other tour busses, lemmings all following flags or paddles or umbrellas. Languages fly - Chinese, Arabic, Italian, English, German etc - everyone wanting a slice of history.

After our "here's the entrance, be back in 2 hours" - we're excused to explore on our own. We hop up to the counter, a little snafu with kids tickets and tour groups, but once again, KK saves the day by looking sweet and precious and the gate agent takes care of the missing kids tickets. 

We pop through, locating the ever-needed WC, and start our stroll down the side of a rock wall. 

Um, this place is bigger than we think.

Like a lot bigger.

We twist and turn, we start to climb, we overhear tour groups and grab slices of info as we work our way through an old market, past a theater, up to a park and continue to climb to where the upper crust lived.

Because even in 79AD, people knew that crap rolled downhill - and living at the top meant something. Cooler breezes, too. 

It's overwhelming how large this town is - and we're only seeing part of it.

My energy gives out and I make my way with KK back down to a plaza where there are abundant trees and a breeze. Oddly, they've carted a grand piano to the locale and offer it up to anyone who wants to play. Bubs circles - as he's been practicing a song he's learned by ear - but never quite makes it to the piano.

Others take a turn -we spot stray cats - KK wanting to pet them all.

Um, no. They are feral and they have fleas. Please use your eyes only, lovey.

Hubs continues on. He finds the replicas of bodies caught in ash. He finds more detail, more history, more tragedy at every turn. He's got the photos - I'll find them one day.

We'll make it back to the bus on time - just as the Italian sun is straight overhead.

We wind our way back out to the coast and make the sharp turn down the last switch back to hit a traffic jam. The driver explains when the cargo ships unload, they shut the roads down, allowing as many semis to depart as possible without tourists and busses - and the ever-present scooter - to get in their way. We wait about 10 minutes and finally make our way to the sea level.

What surprises me most about this gorgeous town is that it faces the same issues Gary, IN or Cleveland, OH does with a stunning body of water, but citizens who need goods and supplies. The port takes over the prime real estate. The pollution is gross, the windows are barred, the garbage is everywhere and it's not a town to take a stroll in. The money has moved to higher ground, once again. They look at the sea, but they do not touch. 

I'm sure the locals find that leaving the harbor by 10 miles or so - they find their toes back in the water. But to an average tourist that lands on their shores - there is no beach that's clean enough to swim in when Maersk is sitting 100 yards away. 

So we board the ship - find the pizza - and the pool - and books and ice cream and music and entertainment  - and call it a good day. 

KK's new friend agrees.

And Off We Go

 Alrighty - the trip is here. I'm going. Whether my body can take it all or just a portion - we're COVID free and off we set for Toronto - on to Rome, Pompeii, Syracuse/Sicily, Santorini, Kusadasi/Ephesus, Mykonos and Athens!

Let's start with the plan and the prep.

You need a certified negative COVID test to get on the ship - and I'm not going to drive all the way to Toronto to fly to Rome to find out we can't get on the ship. So - you buy this kit from eMed - and you go online with a PC that has a webcam...and they watch you take the test and certify your results. Ok, simple enough - an hour later, all four of us are done, we're negative and we pile in the car.

We are prepared - it'll be a long day. We've done copious (and by we, I mean HUBS) amounts of research on transferring from country to country - the first step is to get over the Canadian boarder. We're prepared - we've done ArriveCAN online, submitted all our vaccines and we're prepared for the wait.

Up and over the Blue Water and down into Passport Control.

Where there isn't One. Single. Car.

We're it.

He asks where we're going, are we bringing anything and tells us to have fun. It takes 2 minutes.

Um, what?

Ok - so we drive to Toronto.

Where there is no traffic and we arrive way to early.

So we get  a snack and settle in. To get bored because we want to get to the airport.

Ok, fine. The shuttle for long term parking is a breeze and we arrive 3 hours early - because Pearson is supposed to be a nightmare.

Except there isn't anyone.

And the AirTransat terminal is so far at the end of International, no one is down there except those passengers. We get a kiosk immediately, we aren't checking bags (oh heck no, not with a labor shortage and exorbitant fees) - and so we sail into security. 

Which is 10 people deep.

Go down to El Al or British Air and it's out the queue to the door.

Hmmm...ok.

We clear in record time - no shoes off, no nothing - and I decide it's too much to walk, so I get a wheelchair and Bubs pushes me - all the way to the gate.

We're early and the first ones there, and it fills up over time. Announcements for passengers going to Paris in groups 4, 5 and 6 will need to check their bags - because it's slammed. But nothing for Rome.

I get nervous at this time. It's what I do. I hate having worked SO hard to get my bags packed in carry ons only to have them taken.

I'm humming to myself when a woman in broken English asks to wheel my chair - it's time to go. She just assumed I needed the assist. And she'll get us on first.

Um, sure - works for me. It'll take a while to load the Airbus 330 (3 - 3 - 3) but so be it. We settle in - and the kids and I share a 3...and Hubs takes the aisle across from us. Where no one takes his middle seat.

I'm beside myself. This doesn't happen - ever. Whoa.

Ok - off we go. And we arrive EARLY.

To get down the long gangway to security. The kids didn't sleep - they are whipped - but we still need to catch a train into the city. I beg them to hang in there and they can nap at the hotel.

Alrighty, security, we're at the back of the line because we're at the back of the plane. Except the guard sees KK, asks her age, she responds and he says "families this way" and points to a queue with no line. And I walk right up to the passport guy, wait a minute for him to finish his conversation and he clears us in seconds. 

The train isn't too hard to find...I've printed a map before we left, I buy tickets, we wait for "the next train" but the steward says this one is fine and is leaving now - so we hop on.

And I'm transported back to 2017 when I did this before. We emerge from the train - down the platform - past the hustlers and the bustlers and those begging for Euro - and we emerge in 90* sun. I remember there is supposed to be a fountain ahead. It's 2000 years old. It should still be there. Ok, an exaggeration, but it's there. Find the fountain, take a left. Look for the red and white striped church. Go across the street to the big oak door, ring the bell, you'll be buzzed in.

So we did. The host came down, the room was ready, we could check in. Because they texted me the day before to confirm. 

I'm dizzy. This is crazy.

We get to the room - it's the biggest one they have - and probably used to be the former apartment of the host. A huge sitting room and two bedrooms. For $170. It has four beds. None of this European mumbo jumbo of smash. My kids are thrilled.

I find pasta for dinner - wine for the walk - and the sun setting on the Coloseum. That's about as much as I have in me. I tell the kids they can do the Trevi Fountain - but they sit down, unable to move - and it's lights out at 8pm. Twelve hours of sleep later - we wake for a lovely breakfast - and a walk to the Trevi. Ok, so it's light out, but all good. They go on to the Pantheon and Piazza Navona - I go back to rest - before it's time to head to the train station and head to the port.

We did come to cruise, after all!

The train station is slammed.

I am in charge of tickets - and I go for 2nd Class.

But they put us all in different cars.

KK freaks. Nope. Exit out. Back to the beginning.

And now, it says 2nd Class is so out - 1st class it is.

Don't get all excited, but it was worth the $12 upgrade.

20 rows - 3 to a row (1 and 2).

The ONLY hiccup - the train was running late.

Italian trains rarely do this. This is the express to Civitaveccia - and the other leaves in an hour but takes twice as long.

We aren't the only ones cruising, waiting for a train.

After the 4th 10-minute delay, Hubs and I start to discuss Plan B. $180 taxi - a whole new set of tickets - messages to the ship saying we'll miss our boarding time. 

But we planned so far ahead, we were scheduled to arrive in CV an hour early -so we let the time tick by.

My some chance, I overhear Americans talking about plans and one lady chucks it in, headed for a taxi. We all agree to give it two more sets of 10 minute delays.

It bounces 5 minutes - and then we hear some clapping.

I'm uncomfortable at this time, my body isn't cooperating, but I'm hanging in, hiding my anxiousness from my kids.

We chat more, I peer down the track....and VOILA! The train.

Which arrives with 1st class right in front of us. 

We board - we find seats -and I end up chatting with this wonderful couple from DC. We talk the whole way - she's just lovely and a perfect distraction from my body and the weariness. Moreover - her husband is a Florida State fan. Ok...yeah. BUT!! She's a UM Alum...and I yell down three rows to hubs and they both throw up the U. It's a thing. Ask him if you don't know. But it seals the deal on our mutual admiration of each other.

We arrive in CV - and we make our way outside - finding the bus line loonnnngggg....and a flurry of activity for a taxi. We see the ships in the distance - but it's hot. We have the same look - the cabs are minivans - we can share!

And she bounds off, more aggressive than I have energy for - and hails us one. One family tried to snag it - but we can all fit. The van holds 10. Fine - we're all on the same ship and in the same boat - so let's go.

The drive is longer than I remember. I am SO FREAKING GLAD I found this woman and this taxi.

We all arrive, bid adieu in the hopes to bump into each other and head to the line. We're stopped at the beginning -same four questions:

Did you check in online?

Do you have your passports?

Do you have your vaccine cards?

Did you take your COVID test?

Three rounds of this - which takes no time at all - mom and dad are PREEEEEPARED!

The security line is 3 people long. The check in line has none. The guy is waiting - and they have improved service - it's all done on an iPad. Pictures included. Stateroom cards are waiting your room - your App has your boarding documents.

Boom. Go.

We find the room. We've got bunk beds and 125 sq ft for the next 8 days. Ooof! Ok, that's how we travel on the cheap.

But one day...one day...there will be a balcony!

We find food, we make our dinner reservations, we do our online muster station checks (another improvement)  - we find the dining room - we meet Vichet from Cambodia and Joseph from Mauritius - KK and he will bond over parmesan rolls and water over the next 8 days.

The kids find ice cream and kids menus - and all you can eat pizza.

The ship has standard plugs, they have technology - and find the ping pong tables and the pool.

The horn blows -we pull out of CV and set sail for Sorrento, the Amalfi Coast and Pompeii. This was the #2 port on our wish list - tomorrow is going to be a good, full, long, hot, wonderful day!

The End is Here

 Woowee! We made it to the end of another year....

We started in masks and strict quarantine, but we persevered.

We lost busses throughout the year, scrambled to find carpooling and relied on our village...and we persevered.

We learned to take exams, we worked through three rounds of standardized tests...we persevered.

We also had a lot of fun. Field trips came back - my girl became an ambassador to the new arriving 4th graders who will join in the building for next year. She quasi-led the cheerleaders for the fall and found her stride at short stop in the spring. She amazed her teachers, soaked up all the knowledge and honed her artistic skills. Getting locks on the lockers was a huge deal - free lunch wasn't all that if it was only going to be pizza. She got a best friend and lots of buddies. She nailed 5th grade.

Bubs - he slayed the day, too. He exited SpEd and pull outs and speech. He transitioned to a new building like a champ - and like never before, took off running in his academics. That bottom of the pile kid now has straight A's - has a mastery of trombone - a liking for Dungeons and Dragons club - a dislike of Jazz Club (even though he's so darn good) - and a new found appreciation for Smash Brother's club. "Mommmmmm.....you told me to get involved, so I did!"

We persevered. It wasn't a cake walk -but life never is.

It wasn't all roses and sunshine - but the bumps, those pesky thorns, are what we climb on. We're grateful for a safe way to make mistakes, to learn and to grow. 

And I couldn't ask for more in my kids. They are truly good human beings. I'm so glad I get to hang out with them.

Summer Break officially arrives in about an hour - and then it's 10+ weeks of recharging, resetting and rejuvenating.

Let's do it!

 

The Month of May

 There was a month of May this year- I am confident of it - but it's an entire blur.

Save for the first few days, in which I think I had some fun, May is gone.

I had it all planned - it was a quick and simple laparoscopic hysterectomy of most of the parts - and I was to be back on my feet in about two weeks.

Yea, I plan. And we all laugh.

On May 6 - the surgery went well. I was a poster child. The BFF had come in on May 4 - we went to a softball game, I hosted a Bye Bye Baby House party - life was fine.

The surgery was a success. 

A few days later, I'm in a car, watching my BFF enjoy the tulips and eating ice cream.

And that night, the bottom dropped out.

I was in excruciating pain - and it lasted all night. At 5am, I called it - I needed to go to the ER. 

Which wasn't slammed - and I got right in - to a Doc who has kids in my daughter's building. I never fail to see the light coming through the darkness.

But three rounds of dilaudid, two rounds of fentenal and some other things...and I'm still coming off the table. Two CT scans of my abdomen and three suspicious spots...I was admitted.

By 5pm, the resident who thought I was well informed (but was not) told me I was having surgery.

I complained. No I wasn't. I just had surgery, I wasn't doing it again...to which my BFF replied "No, you're doing this and you're doing it now."

By 6:30pm - a mere 24 hours after the ice cream and happiness - I'm in PreOp begging anyone who will listen to knock me out.

There is a moment where you look at yourself, out of body, watching the pain from above, laughing at yourself at the madness of it all, begging.

It is not pretty.

I remember having to get onto the operating table.

I remember the mask not fitting.

I remember my husband standing over me three hours later - and the pain being different.

And that's it.

What happened? When the robot did the hysterectomy, the cauterizing tool got close to my ureter - the place where the liquid drains from the kidney to the bladder, and it damaged a small area. Over the 6 days of first recovery, it began to create a hole where the tool had burned a small spot. A hole opened up - no larger than a millimeter. And instead of liquid draining into my bladder, it was going into my abdomen. Constantly.

Oh - wait. Lest I forget. The CT scan pointed to the bladder. 

So on the table they cut the bladder open - only to not find the hole. They did another test on the table and finally found the hole in the ureter - and now, voila, I got a stent placed from the kidney to the bladder for 6 weeks, a 4 inch vertical scar under my belly button, a drain (let's not forget the 5 laparoscopic openings I already have), more bruising than I cared to notice and the piece de resistance...a catheter.

Two more nights in a hospital. I think it was a weekend. Who knows. I got chummy with the nurses at 3am. UGH.

Discharged on Sunday night. Another visit to the ER on Monday for a catheter that wasn't working only to find the wait time was 3.5 hours or more. Nope, no thanks.

Another visit to the urologist on Tuesday to get it fixed - not because he didn't believe me - but because I wasn't going to leave unless he did something.

Can I tell you that my BFF was STILL HERE at the time - she stayed SIXTEEN days. I couldn't have done it without her. When she left on May 20 I cried. Alligator tears.

Then somehow, I managed to couch surf around the house until May 26 - when the catheter came out. I was a new woman, who had bruises that were fading, stomach muscles that were starting to work again - a urethra that was ticked off and a holiday weekend in front of us. 

I blinked. 

It was sunny and warm. I made it outside. 

The weekend came and went. The urethra is still not happy - but I'm praying daily and she's getting better. Not great, but better. (you may read between the lines...the valve is still upset. It'll heal. Sooner or later. Bloody mother pussbucket)

The kids and my husband have been a tremendous help...and I slid into today, the last day of the month, wondering where May went. How is it June tomorrow?

That's way too quick of an overview, but I wanted to get it down before I forgot the entire month.

My brain is ok.

My body is healing.

The stent will come out on June 30 - after a family vacation, a first round of summer camp, the end of school, the end of softball and many days of sunshine and popsicles. 

And this will all be just a memory.

Thank the Lord in heaven.

Greek Easter

Happy to have a few of Hubs' family over for Orthodox Easter - and celebrate our risen Lord twice in one month. WootWoot - Pound Cake from Grandma one week and then Carrot Cake from Aunt Laurie the next. WINNING!

Red eggs are a tradition in the Greek Orthodox church for Easter - and it was fun to do the traditional "smash the egg" on the other to see who wins. 

 

It's Fuzzy not Fussy

 I was about 13 years old and decided to write my aunt a letter. I think I might have been a disgruntled teen and was teeing up my aunt to remember that my birthday was coming up, that my brother was annoying, my parents were annoying, my dog was annoying...you get the point. Disgruntled - and with an aunt I could complain to.

I probably owed her a thank you note, as well. 

Because the rule was "no note, no more gifts."

So I mastered the art of the thank you note - which, by the way, has served me well.

Somewhere in the middle of my complaining, I wrote that I was thankful for the fussy socks. They were cute or warm or pretty or what have you.

About three weeks later, a letter returned...

"JeniGirl...blah blah blah...it's fuzzy, not fussy....blah blah blah. Love, A.H."

______________________________

About a year or so later, we hosted the family reunion for Christmas. I was in charge of sweeping the front hall. 

As a disgruntled teenager.

And my sweep strokes were paltry at best. Little, itty bitty strokes that said "Fine, I will sweep, but I won't do it well."

My aunt snatched the broom from my hand and demonstrated that pushing the dirt around was not the point and that I was actually tasked with sweeping up the debris.

I think I burst into tears.

Again with the disgruntled.

But I tell you what, there isn't a moment when I don't pick up a broom now and think of her.

Then there was the time it was just the two of us on the couch...and I held her hand and fussed with her rings. We had a pension for jewelry. Oh, we loved jewelry. In fact, when I knew Hubs was the one, I not so subtly told him that my aunt could help out with any jewelry purchases he might happen to make. Can I tell you how much I love our rings?

And there were texts and calls. Visits and chats. Not all the time, not every week. But they were there.

And let me not forget the looped handwriting of love when my children's birthday cards arrived and the $5 bill fell out. 

That's how I explained who she was to them last night - the $5 bill aunt. 

"aaah, yes!" they exclaimed!

____________________________

My final visit was one that was a blessing...and a hard one. My aunt had a stroke about 15 months ago - and the slow decline began. Sometimes with a flurry and fierceness that no one wanted. Sometimes with the methodical plodding for a destination no one wanted either.

To live with vibrancy is one thing - to live with methodical plodding is entirely another. The writing was on the wall.

So my mom and I knew it was time to go see her - and we visited and chatted. We plotted and schemed. We sang to Jesus - and that she was my sunshine, my only sunshine. And on days like today, when the skies are grey, I know she'll know how much I love her.

My final memories will be one of amusement.

She made a joke - a stroke patient in the waning days of her life - made a joke. A big one.

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Girl," she exclaimed, "I know things about you."

"Oh Lord Almighty, you do," I cackled, and promptly put my tongue back in my mouth.

______________________________

Yesterday, we knew the end was here. That constant stress of every time the phone would ding with a text.

Modern communication is a treasure and a curse.

My mom got the message about 2am this morning...and passed it on to me about two hours ago.

It's now 9am. The world continues to spin, the birds are chirping, the kids are in school...and my aunt is gone.

But she didn't take the sunshine away - it will be here. Just like my memories - of fuzzy socks and unswept floors - of sparkling diamonds and cackles of joy.

Love you forever, like you for always, my precious aunt. Hug your parents for me.

Sweet and Kind

 I'm not quite sure I am able to handle any more death and dying this week - but I think this is not the end of news that will come my way.

Yesterday was met with many texts that my mom's sister has transitioned to hospice - I have no news on that one this morning, so I will not assume to know where things are at. Suffice to say - lots of texts to my cousins yesterday that I am praying for them....

...which leads me to this morning's email from our old neighbor in the house before this one. She didn't want to start my day off as she was about to - but it was important to know...my sweet, soft spoken, kind neighbor from that Cal house - whose husband died at 59 last summer - passed away, also on Easter. 

Talk about a kind heart - and sweet demeanor. She was a little light in the world that quietly went about spreading love. She was 62. 

The reality of that is hard for me as well - that's not too far off for me, certainly not for my husband - or any of my cousins.

At another time, I will ruminate on the fact that she is the 12th person - friend or family - that I have lost since January 1. Twelve people in fourteen weeks. But that's for another time.

For now, I use this blog to create an archive to myself - and to share a little of her light. 

https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/grand-rapids-mi/cynthia-andrews-10714260