Europe is like so my favorite country.
Now, if we want to be literal about things, LP and I have been in nine (count ‘em) countries in the last 12 days: Netherlands, Belgium, France, Switzerland, Italy, Monaco, Spain, United Kingdom, and last, and in most people’s opinions, least, the United States.
With work, training for the marathon, and frequent consultations with @ regarding MM, I had barely wrapped my head around the fact that I was going to be traveling to Europe when I picked up LP at O’Hare the day before she and I would fly to Amsterdam.
Passport, what? Whatever. I knew it was in one of the 14 shoe boxes reserved for storing… stuff.
Suffice to say, I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.
Whirlwind road trip adventure only begins to describe what was in store. We measured time in hours spent on a “plush” motor coach between bathroom breaks at rest stops, and passed free days quoting Superbad as we lost ourselves in the streets of Amsterdam, Paris, Nice, Lucerne, and Barcelona. We arrived in cities and unpacked only to repack (what seemed like) moments later, our destination having changed.
Europe – a decent chunk of it anyway – by bus is an interesting choice for travel. This was nothing if not a crash course in road tripping – countries seen from behind the window of a motor coach. Turns out, sleep beats scenery by a landslide when you’ve got eight hours of nothing but time between Nice and Barcelona.
If you want to do the math, here goes: me, LP, nine countries, three flights (for me; five for LP), 1 bus, a tour manager of sorts, a driver, 12 days, and 40 some odd strangers.
There’s so much more to tell.