I realized when I replied to a Facebook comment that I actually missed a couple of the terrible/amusing parts of our trip...
I didn't even include everything because the post would have been a mile long... smarmy waiters, me trying to yell at a little lego-block stealing kid in German, the heat not working in the cottage the first night, the extreme hassle of the pool's locker room, hilarious and dreadful Kids Disco musicians serenading dinner, Tom's trip through the nude family sauna, and a story about a fat French kid we named Augustus Gloop's many trips through the buffet and his disappointment at missing the pancake refill because he was in the can.
Okay, smarmy waiters are self-explanatory. The lego kid: there was a big pit of oversized lego blocks at the indoor playground, and the kids had a lot of fun building walls and towers. There were a lot of blocks in there, so for the most part quite a few kids could simultaneously enjoy the experience. But at one point, there was this little boy, maybe like six years old, who really wanted to build the tower of Babel or something because he kept taking the blocks out of my kids' hands. Brynn just kind of moved away, but Wyatt looked crushed. I tried to get away with just saying "nein!", but the kid gave me this long explanation of why he needed to continue stealing the blocks. Of course, I didn't understand and didn't particularly care, so I had to try and think of the approximately twelve German words I know to yell at him. "Mein kinder spielen!" Another mom looked at me, like she was surprised I yelled at the kid with the most basic of words ("My kids play!"), but the boy just gave me the explanation again. I figured my best bet was to act like I could understand but wasn't taking his crappy excuses so I just said "Nein! Mein kinder spielen!" again, and he shut up and stopped taking the blocks... from my kids.
When we arrived it had been comfortable in the cottage and the thermostat said 19 degrees Celcuis, which means nothing to us. The thermostat directions, helpfully printed in English, indicated that it was an energy-saving model that would automatically lower at night and if there was no movement in the house. We were gone until late Friday night, and then slept. So Saturday morning when we woke up, it was really cold in the cottage but we didn't know how low the temp was supposed to get. When it reached 9am and 14 degrees with no heat coming from the radiators, we wondered if maybe something was amiss. I will say, the front desk was very prompt in sending out the maintenance man... who quickly confirmed our furnace was turned off. I can't really say how it mystically got turned off overnight, but if it has to do with the upstairs closet I pulled the drying rack from then it was probably my fault. It was awkward and tiny, just like everything in Europe. Also, I had no idea how to set up a drying rack. I'd make a terrible European.
Pool locker room... at first we couldn't even figure out how it worked. Walking in, you only see these narrow halls with rows of doors into changing rooms. No visible entrance into the pool or locker room. After some confusion and someone who took pity on us, we found that you have to go into the little changing room and then out the other side to get to the locker room. It isn't a hard concept, but logistically speaking I still can't figure out there was room for that. It was like a doorway into Narnia or something-- the physics of how there was room eludes me. And somehow, every time we chose lockers to put our clothes and shoes into, it was always in the worst possible location. I kind of think maybe all the lockers were in the worst location, or maybe we just take up that much room. We were constantly in the walkway, or people were trying to pass us, or a (smarmy) lifeguard was lecturing us about blocking the secret lifeguard door to the pool area. One of the lockers also ate a pair of my favorite socks. I can't say the locker room was so terribly different than the ones we have here, aside from the Narnian entrance situation, but trying to get six people (or two groups of three) changed in a teeny tiny situation, when everyone has shirts, pants, undies, socks, shoes, flippy floppies, swimsuits, and towels is ridonkulous. It was even worse after the pool, when everyone was wet and grumpy. It made us long for Great Wolf Lodge, where the hotel was attached to the pool complex and no one cared if you went to dinner in your swimmy coverup.
There was also the sauna, where I did not venture but Tom did. It was, in the European tradition, a nude sauna. Not even clothes optional-- swimsuits weren't allowed. Yikes, no thank you. Oh, and it was also a family sauna. Sure, bring the kids! Again, I would make a terrible European. I saw a lot of these people in the mercy of swimsuits, and had no desire to be in the presence of their naughty bits. Especially when the point of laying around near these people would be our mutual sweating. Just... no.
Kids Disco was this little musical act they had each night around dinnertime. It involved a middle-aged couple with a keyboard and what looked like bedazzled vests singing a variety of songs we didn't know and songs we did know but with German lyrics. It was terrible, but there were a ton of kids up there dancing around in front of these magical musicians. Our kids didn't seem too impressed.
Okay, the French kid. It is wrong for two mature adults to make fun of a fat kid. I don't condone that kind of behavior. (Well...) But I wouldn't have even noticed the boy except that we seemed to go to meals at the same time as his family, and every time we did this kid made trip after trip after trip through the buffet. I mean, a serious number of trips. He was also kind of dopey looking and wore long shorts, and at first we assumed he was German. So obviously, we had to call him Augustus Gloop. (This is really mostly me... Tom is not awful like I am.) The last morning we were there, we went to the breakfast buffet and saw Augustus there with his family, making a lot of trips through the buffet line. At one point, he used the tongs to pick up his pancakes and put them on his plate, and seeing that there was still a pancake bit stuck proceeded to eat it off the tongs. This boy had to be 12 or 13 years old. Then, on a subsequent trip, the buffet ran out of pancakes. We watched him look worried and ask for more. Then we watched him come back a couple times and look crushed when there were still no pancakes. On one of these trips, in his happy anticipation, we saw him licking off his plate as he approached the buffet. (The fact that he was doing these things is the reason why I'm even telling this horrible story). Finally he decided to just stand and wait for the pancakes. He must have waited at least 10 minutes, and finally he headed into the bathroom. Now, he wasn't the only person waiting for pancakes. There was this adult guy who seemed really disappointed that the tray was empty, as well as two girls who had been eyeing the buffet. So of course as soon as Augustus goes into the bathroom, someone comes and refills the tray-- but only with about 12 pancakes. So the adult man literally run-walks and grabs his pancakes, the two girls come and grab theirs, another boy takes some, and we're wondering if poor Augustus is even going to get any! Then his mom comes and takes three pancakes for his sister just as he emerges from the bathroom... only to discover that there is one lone pancake left. All that waiting... and he got skunked by his own mother.
At least my vacation ended on a high note, as I sacrificed my dignity to laugh at some poor French kid who only got one pancake (on his 8th trip to the buffet).
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