A Military Mom's Monologue: Day 1 and I Don't Wanna Speak French...

Day 1 of our adventurous, ridiculous, insane, wonderful, and long Journey to Turkey. Admittedly today is the longest and hardest day of our trip. We woke at 1:30 am and were out the door by 2... We were at the ferry by 5 am and in France by 9. After 11 hours of driving we arrived at our hotel at 8 pm. The rest of our trip consists of mostly 6 hour drives to the next hotel on our list. It should be a bit easier on all of us!

Despite the many, many, many hours of driving, today went moderately well. Until Richard jinxed us and voiced how well it was going. Douche.

We got to the ferry with no incident. Driving the three hours listening to Bass Nectar and Richard dancing like a maniac beside me.

The ferry checkpoints were easy peasy, and we were soon loaded. Our original plan was to hang out with the dogs during the crossing. Little did we know "ferry" actually meant "small cruise ship". And the dogs had to stay in the car while we went to the decks above. Now... our dogs aren't bad dogs persay... They just get bored. And destroy things. Expensive things.

We left Nali and Athena behind apprehensively and when upstairs to a cafe to enjoy some coffee and the sunrise. Rhapsody walked around, entertaining and talking to anyone she could. We made friends with an elderly couple on their way to Holland. During our conversations we learned that the gentleman was once an Olympic speed skater. Which is kinda cool!

The ferry docked in Dunkirk and we hurried below to check on the dogs. They had behaved amazingly! Not a single head rest was chewed, or piece of carpet popped on!

Richard took over driving and quickly adjusted to driving on the right side of the road. A couple hours later we hear heaving in the back. I peer back and see Nali hunched over trying to get something out. Great. Now there is puke in the back of our car. Gross. At least it doesn't smell. It's the small things in life we can take comfort from...

The next rest area or "Aire" in French came up and we made our way off the motorway. Rhapsody was awake at this point but she was just talking to herself. Richard and I walked to the back of the car and opened up the door to discover the weirdest puke we have ever seen... Nali had apparently eaten one of Rhapsody's old cloth seatbelt covers... Without chewing any of it. Now it was covered in a disgusting layer of yellow slime, perfectly intact... I guess that is better than an actual pile of puke...

We took a quick break to go to the bathroom. In France people don't care what the sex of the bathroom is. If they have to go, they'll use whichever bathroom is open. I walked into the women's restroom to two men standing waiting for a toilet. It's always a little disconcerting, even though I know it's probably going to happen! I got a stall, sat down to do my business when the door opened... A woman had thought the stall was empty and the lock had failed to latch properly! She yelped and shut the door quickly. I finished, and got the heck out of there!

For the next several hours things went really well! We just talked, listened to Scott Mills podcast or car talk, and snacked. After a couple more stops we began to realise that our kid is AWESOME. She can make people of all cultures and languages smile. People who couldn't speak English were talking to her, and pinching her cheeks and laughing at her crazy antics (like waking around with a giant stick hitting things...)

About 6 pm we decided to stop for dinner. This is where we were schooled in the lesson of snacking and parenting...

As young parents, young people, and hell, just as HUMANS, we are always learning things. Learning what we did wrong or what we can do better.

While waiting on our dinner, Rhaps just began puking EVERYWHERE! All over Richard, my hand, the floor... I rushed her to a trash can where she continued to puke up pretzels and mucus. It was DISGUSTING. I can't handle puke. Simply. Can't. Handle it.

We realised we'd probably fed her too many pretzels, which coupled with a nasal drip led to explosive consequences... Richard had to change his shirt, I had to change Rhapsody, and we had to attempt to communicate in English to only French speaking staff that we needed to clean up a big mess. All in the middle of ordering dinner.

The staff at the rest area were very friendly and helpful. They even cleaned up half the mess for us so we could cuddle Rhaps and eat dinner. Then, in the middle of dinner, the puke volcano began again! I felt so bad for Rhapsody. She was so upset. She puked into Richards crumpled shirt that he'd changed out of earlier and then tried to lay her head in it because she was so tired. We took her back to the car, changed her clothes again and waited another 20 minutes to make sure there were no more possible eruptions. Once she was back in the seat she went back to sleep.

We were driving down the road when Richard looks over at me and says, "Things are going pretty well so far..." I agree, despite our two puking incidents (dog and baby), things were going surprisingly well. We hadn't lost a dog, misplaced our kid, or had any major malfunctions.

However. Richard should have NEVER voiced that. Douche. An hour down the road, another hour to our destination, our sleep deprived selves began making fun on the "French" Tardis' on the side of the road (weird looking blue structures with metal everywhere), French words, French accents, French drivers, anything French.

That's when France fought back!

Because we are moving due to the military we have a government travel credit card to use for hotels, gas, tolls, and food on the trip. We have to stick within a certain budget, but it's nice that we don't have to pay upfront. However, European cards work differently from American. Some machines don't recognise American cards.

We pulled off the motorway, 30 minutes from our hotel still making fun of the French, and had to stop to pay the 30€ toll. Richard inserted the GTC and the machine said "carte non acceptible" or something like that... I think I might have been longer and with more vowels... We tried the GTC a couple more times with no success. We then tried our own bank cards and credit cards and the machine took none of them. We hit the "assistance" button. A French woman's voice came through the speaker.

"Bonjour [insert non understandable French here]"

Richard, "Uuhhh, Parle vous Anglais"? "No, [lots if French]"

"The machine won't take our card"

"Carte non acceptibleme [thats not even ENGLISH! Oh wait, that's cuz it's French]"

"Yeah, it won't take our card"

"Cash"

"No Cash"

The lady apparently hits a button inside and the machine starts talking to is. "CARD NOT ACCEPTED!" Why is it yelling??? "CARD NOT ACCEPTED!"

Yeah. We got it. Our card isn't accepted. We don't have Euros!

Richard hit the help button again. The same French woman came on saying words in French that sounded like, "Your card isn't accepted."

"Your machine won't take our card, we have no other way to pay!"

At which point she started saying lots of things in French.

I put my head down on the dashboard in defeat, look over at Richard and start singing in the style of Lady Gaga's Bad Romance,

"I don't wanna speak French, I don't wanna speak French!"

I think I lost it there for a minute....

Anyways. Richard and I both just look at each other...

Me, "There's nothing we can do... I'm at a complete loss."

Richard, "Welp, I guess I'm just gonna park here..."

After several more minutes of attempting to communicate through a speaker, someone finally comes out to us.

She keeps repeating that the machine won't take our card. Like we DIDN'T know that already!

She starts asking for cash. All in French. Because she doesn't understand English, and we don't understand French. (I'd like to take a moment to say that I don't fault them for only speaking French, we are in FRANCE, in fact, I get more angry over the fact that I can't speak French even remotely...)

At some point she says, "You have no money!"

Richard and I start laughing saying we have LOTS of money, just not cash! After about ten more minutes of non communication she finally says "Address?"

"Yes! We can give you an address!"

However, we we write down our PSC address and she gets all kinda if confused because our car is registered in Britain. We can't even begin to explain that we are military, moving to Turkey, from Britain.... She just gives us a blank look while her friend over the speaker gets angry and says what sounds like "Move on!"

We got a ticket from her with a website on it where we can go to pay the toll. I have no idea why they didn't do that for us in the first place. It would have involved a lot less time, words, and dashboard head banging...

After we make it through the toll we take a couple minutes to collect ourselves on the other side. We drive the next thirty minutes to the hotel laughing and replaying the whole thing. It was definitely the most ridiculous thing ever. And all Richards fault. Douche.

Now to settle into the hotel with a beer, our pooches and a happy baby.

Looking forward to driving in through Southern France and Italy tomorrow! Surely it won't be nearly as exciting...

Who am I kidding!!

Here's some pictures from the road. Shot from my phone so not very good quality!