Ducklings in Dairyland...: Easter Vacation, or "The Impossible Dream"

For the longest time, I have dreamed of going on a nice, relaxing vacation. 2011 was kind of a crappy year for me and 2012 hasn't really been much better. So pretty much all winter, I searched and plotted and imagined all the different opportunities I might pursue over the Easter/spring break holiday, which seemed like a logical time to take this magical vacation. I dreamed of an all-inclusive resort-- the kind of thing I wouldn't mind spending money on just this once because I really deserve it. Ideally, of course, it would be like a Club Med or some other similar place in which they offer actual child care as part of the package, but not having thousands of extra dollars made that plan difficult. I also would have enjoyed someplace warm, but again, the not having endless resources thing got in the way.

This is my dream, and if you know anything about my stories
you know this is not where I ended up.

But I did find a chain of holiday cottage resorts called Center Parcs. This chain has many locations across Germany, France, Belguim, and the Netherlands, plus another string of fancier ones in England. It's a family friendly resort, with indoor and outdoor playgrounds, activities, and pools. It's also very affordable, since they have some great last-minute deals. I opted for the one near Koblenz, since it's only about 90 minutes away and had one of the better long weekend packages. I wanted to see some things as long as we were in the area, so I made some simple sightseeing plans for Saturday and Monday, and planned on just enjoying the resort on Friday evening and all day Sunday.

Friday was fine-- we didn't hurry, just packed our stuff, drove to the resort, found our cottage, and then headed for the pool. The kids had a blast in the pool, although I got annoyed by the lifeguard who insisted my older kids wear lifejackets-- the sign stated that kids without a swim certificate should wear them. Well, my kids have had at least two rounds of lessons and Brynn really does have a certificate, and they weren't going in water any deeper than about 3.5 feet. So when the non-English speaking lifeguard decided to lecture me, I simply said "they can swim" and gestured to my swimming daughter and ineptly flailing (but supervised) son. She marched over, flung some lifejackets at me, and said "Bitte!" ("please") before walking away. Sigh.

After a long session in the pool, we headed for a late dinner. We thought the restaurant closed at 10, which is why when we showed up at 9 we didn't feel bad and wondered why it felt like they were scooting us out as soon as we were done... turns out it closed at 9:30. Oops.

Saturday our plan was to head to Koblenz to see the Ehrenbreitsen Fortress and Deutsches Eck. Koblenz was mostly ruined in the war, so it's a fairly modern looking city and there isn't a whole lot we wanted to see there. The fortress dates from 1000BC and is huge, with several different exhibits inside. Not a ton of exhibits, just "several". It could have been better. Also, the day started off sunny and in the 40s. As we wandered around the fortress, the sun went away, the temperature dropped, and it started to rain. You would have thought we were marching these kids towards a gulag in Siberian winter the way they complained. Wyatt and Norah wanted to be carried, since it was "too cold to walk". Wyatt can get away with this for short periods, and while usually this would be out of the question Tom did actually carry Norah for a little while. He's nicer than me-- I'd have left her. She was an absolute nightmare that day between the whining, crying, pouting, and complaining.

We rode the cable car across the river down to the Deutsches Eck, which is the point where the Mosel and Rhine rivers meet and the location of a ginormous statue of Wilhelm I (which, btw, the Americans evidently destroyed in WWII and was kindly rebuilt by the French.) I loathe slow-moving heights experiences like ski-lifts, Ferris wheels, and cable cars. Actually, heights of any kind absolutely freak me out, especially if the kids are nearby. (The exception to this is roller coasters, which I love. Yes, it's a mystery.) Tom and the kids took it upon themselves to tease me the whole way across the river and take pictures of me looking unhappy as we dangled, very unsafely in my opinion, over what looked like a very cold and wide river. I just sat with my eyes closed, remembering that cable car scene from some James Bond movie where Jaws snaps the cable with his teeth and wondering about the floating capability of the car itself.

Once on the other side, the momentary glee the children felt while riding the cable car and teasing their mother was gone. We herded our little band of nightmares the 500 feet down to the statue, took some unhappy pictures, and then headed back for lunch at the nearest restaurant we could find. Norah continued her reign of terror throughout the meal and Wyatt occasionally joined her (when not entertaining the lady at the table next to us with his sheer adorableness). Then back up the cable car line to the fortress, a short wait for the shuttle, and back to the parking lot. The experience of that last sentence was approximately eleventy hundred times longer and unpleasant than it sounded.

About a 45 minute drive and we were back at the resort. Let me preface this next anecdote by saying that there were some parking issues near our cottage.

There was barely enough room to park on one side of the road, let alone both, and some of our neighbors were having parties and so used more than one space per cottage (and I don't even know if that kind of space existed on our street). Spaces were not marked, numbered, or designated, and people in Europe generally park wherever they damn well please. So after this hideous, horrible day, and having ridden the last 20 minutes in a fece-mobile of a car because Wyatt waited to take his after-meal poop until we were already well on the road, and having had to park the night before in a thornbush that viciously attacked me, finding an actual parking spot semi-near our cottage was a sigh of relief. Until, that is, the German version of a Camilla Parker-Bowles looking type came out of her cottage and suggested I roll down my window. Note: don't ever, ever make me roll down my window unless you are ready to exchange money for a diet Coke and a Whopper. Lucky folks we are, she spoke English and informed us that this was HER spot. The particulars of what was said and the hand gestures made are unimportant; let's just say that it got ugly fast. In the end we did end up parking back in our thornbush against our better judgement. Also against our better judgement, we fell asleep that night before we could enact our plan to go let the air out of her tires. Not kidding, her car, when it eventually showed up to claim the spot she probably harassed dozens of people for, included the numbers "666" on the plate.

Normally this is the kind of event I would be ticked off about for the rest of the evening and then laugh about the next day. Unfortunately, things on my glorious European Holiday were not going so well and this didn't help. Thank goodness the next day we had nothing planned; just a day spent on the kids at the playground and pool. It was a long day for the parents, but the kids had a blast.

Monday our initial plan was a trip to Burg Eltz and another castle in St. Goar. We dropped St. Goar and decided one castle would be plenty for our dejected little tribe. It was also cold and rainy again, and I like to think I learn from mistakes. Oh, except for the part where I didn't. See, Burg Eltz is a pretty famous castle. There are signs for it all over from the autobahn, it's in all the sightseeing guides, and Rick Steves declared that it was his "favorite castle in Europe". Not just in Germany, which has lots of great castles, but in all of Europe.

It's an 80 room castle. You can only go inside on a tour. The tour is boring and takes you through 13 rooms. There is nothing else to do. After trekking down the giant mountain, experiencing the non-wonder of the castle, and taking the shuttle back up the mountain to save us the trouble of listening to our children, I looked at Tom and said, "Rick Steves is full of shit." To which he replied, "Thank you." It felt good to be on the same page.

The evening involved more playground and more tired parents. The next morning we packed up and headed out, needing a vacation from our vacation.

I have to say, I am learning a lot about myself here in Europe. I think I'll start a list:

I don't think America is the greatest place in the history of the world, but I like it better than Europe because I know how things work, how to behave, and don't feel guilty for hating people without a good reason.
It's hard to put parking lots near ancient landmarks now located in big cities, and I really value good parking.
Aforementioned ancient landmarks and sites are what I would call "neat to see", but not life-changing, especially when battling four unhappy children to get to them.
The things I value in life include peace and quiet, staying at home and not having to apologize for it, living in the same state as at least two of my friends, and not being lectured/glared at/corrected by locals.
Afore-aforementioned landmarks are never going to look as good in my pictures as the ones I can get from the comfort of my house off the internet, especially if my family is in them. Examples: