That Time My Family Was in Europe and Didn't Lose Their Luggage

This post is particularly special, since the reason for it is that the very people that have made the best semester of my life possible came all the way to the other side of the Atlantic (…the Atlantic, right?) to visit little old me… that’s right, you guys, Dennis and Jane were in Spain this past week. I’m not sure if I was able to adequately express how very grateful I am for them, not only for partially funding this semester (new shoes and countless ice cream trips not included), but also for equipping me with the necessary skills to survive out here in the wilderness, such as independence, excessively fast walking, and not being afraid to make a fool of myself on a regular basis.

Yet another reason I owe them gratitude is for, in addition to bringing horrible Chicago-like weather with them, they also sacrificed some luggage space to carry two massive jars of peanut butter (!!!!!), homemade goodies, and a few novels for their chubby/nerdy daughter. So after the initial joy of seeing the ‘rents and then the secondary joy of eating a homemade chocolate cookie, the three of us had our first dinner together in months at a cute restaurant near their hotel called Casa Mono.  It did not take me long to realize how (no offense) awful my parents’ Spanish is, and that I finally have someone to blame other than myself for not being able to roll my stupid R’s. Anyway, the food was so good that my parents are insisting I return to steal a menu for their prized collection like I’m some kind of bandit. (Sidenote: I used the word bandit here as opposed to thief because we had a pet raccoon named Bandit growing up and although that has no real relevance to this post whatsoever, it’s a good example of the kind of family that we are.) The following day, I left the two Americans to explore Madrid on their own while I attended class, which surprisingly is actually the real reason I’m here in Europe. They toured the Royal Palace, which is something I incidentally have not yet done soooo… moving on.

Note the sought-after menu.

I eventually showed them the high school university that I attend in Madrid and then introduced them to the infamous Mari, who later remarked to me how muy, muy, muy tall my parents are. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she is just muy, muy, muy short. Later in the day, Den and Jane took me, Laura, and Mal to dinner at a funky little tapas bar, which notably had “sushi” with hot dog buns in place of rice. Not as bad as you are picturing, though admittedly it just made Mal and me want to eat like, four hot dogs. We then got ice cream, which is a Gorski staple (another thing I have to thank them for?) and allegedly walked the long way home, though I would like to point out that we didn’t get lost and that walking is good for you, so get over it, Dad. On Friday, we finally had a full day together in Mad-city. I showed my parents El Parque del Retiro, where we were lucky enough to have somewhat decent weather so they could fully appreciate the beauty of the park I spend countless hours in (half of which are spent searching for a bathroom). We also toured Sol, the center of the city (and an area I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with), and I managed to get us lost on our way to lunch, just in case they were worried I was growing up. After lunch, we relaxed in Plaza Mayor and were entertained by a street performer dressed as an extremely fat Spiderman, who marched over to our outdoor café table and announced that he did NOT like my dad but was quite taken with my mom, insisting that she take off her sunglasses to show him her eyes….. I won’t go into any more details. That night, we went to Ernest Hemingway’s favorite bar located inside the Palace Hotel. I was pretty excited about this trip because, as an English major, it’s essentially a requirement that I am a Hemingway fan, and also because at 19 euros per cocktail, this was somewhere my broke self would never be on my own. The bar was pretty awesome and also now I feel like I’ve made up for my obscene run-on sentences.

Maybe if I spend more time here my sentences will shorten over time?

On early morning Saturday, the three of us planned to go to Barcelona. (I sadly left my two partners in crime in Madrid, where they ate pizza for dinner and made fun of me together with Mari the whole time). Anyway, we Gorskis didn’t realize our flight was for 8 PM and not AM until, of course, we were already standing sleep-deprived and groggy-eyed in the Madrid airport. A bit of an expensive mistake to make, but I have absolute no right to make a snarky comment about this, as I’m not sure if I’ve ever booked a flight flawlessly in my life. Anyway, the point is, we eventually got to Barcelona with our handy Rick Steves guide in tow. Rick led us on a walking tour of Las Ramblas and the crazy market Mal mentioned in her post and then of some cool old stuff (looks like I’m really making the most of my stay in Europe!) and also the Cathedral of Barcelona. I think Dennis mentioned his favorite part was some Roman columns dating from like, 15 B.C., but he probably said that to impress my mom. After lunch, we (they) took a little siesta in the hotel room, so I guess it’s pretty clear that my parents didn’t take very long to acclimate themselves to Spanish culture. Before dinner, we went to a little dive bar called Dow Jones that’s modeled off of the New York Stock Exchange. I don’t honestly understand how the stock market works, so I’m not going to even pretend to explain this, except that sometimes the market “crashes” and drinks are super cheap. Also, the bartender was really cute.

Siestaaaa (rhymes with fiestaaaa)!

Sunday was rainy because my mom claims bad weather follows her, and I’m starting to think she’s on to something (so also thanks for that. Just kidding). Regardless, after a hearty breakfast hotel that—gasp, had more than just carbs—we made our way to the spectacular, wonderful, exquisite (am I just reading the thesaurus right now?) La Sagrada Familia. You can check out Mal’s blog post about her visit to the church and then just imagine me and my parents saying, “Same.” because same. Gaudí’s creation is unlike anything I have ever seen, even in the rain. We all agreed that we would love to revisit Barcelona with the family after it’s finished, if only to see it again. Hopefully by that time, I am still unmarried (and maybe even still living at home?!) so that, for me, this trip will be once more funded by the Bank of Dennis and Jane. (My siblings will not think this joke is funny.) Unfortunately by the time we finished our tour, the rain was a little on the torrential downpour side so after changing our soaking clothes at the hotel, we took Rick’s advice and went to the Chocolate Museum. I think I just blushed as I typed that sentence. Basically, we paid 4.50 euros each to look at some chocolate statues, but we also got to eat some “free” chocolate, so all was not lost. Most of what I remember about the museum was trying to show some restraint and not reach over the glass and take a bite out of the chocolate scene of Gladiator. After this excursion, the rain had finally cleared up so we walk-toured a little bit more of Barcelona and then ate lunch and some more ice cream. (One time my brother and I got into a real and serious fight about who likes ice cream more. For the record, it’s me.)

The fam also had the opportunity to tour the Picasso Museum for free, though we did have to wait in a three-blocks-long line. Luckily, we were entertained by some old ladies and a Scottish woman standing in front of us. The museum was educational (even though the audio guides were more than a little dry) and Picasso’s early, formative paintings are fascinating (because he actually did have real talent, you guys, not just abstract shapes). Unfortunately for Pablo, the only thing that Dennis took out of experience was that Picasso was a fraud. I’m not sure if we were listening to the same audio guide. We then sat in the Church of Santa Maria to rest our aching feet and ended up staying for a fully Spanish mass. Though understanding the service was a little on the difficult side, it was good to be in church as a (partial… haven’t forgotten about you, married, grown-up siblings) family again.

On our last short day together, the ‘rents and I made yet another trek to the hectic market so that they could buy some wine and I could gorge myself on some fresh fruit juice. Ultimately, our too-short time together came to a close. Since virtually anyone who has ever had the pleasure of parting with me knows that goodbyes aren’t really my strong suit, our adios was pretty quick and I hurried into the cab, where I embarrassed myself the driver by sniffling in the backseat. Props to him, though, since he pointed out a rabbit on the side of the street to try to cheer me up, but then I remembered our pet bunnies growing up that all met terrible fates so his efforts were fruitless. (One of the bunnies was named Donut George.)

A really long story not very short, I had an amazing time showing my parents the life that they helped me create here. It’s hard to describe how nice it was to be able to talk to them without having to calculate the time difference, to roll my eyes at their terrible jokes, and to have all my ice cream paid for. Their visit was also a good reminder that going back home certainly won’t be as bad as I sometimes fear it will. So thanks, Mom and Dad, for being you guys, for being unbelievably generous, for bringing me peanut butter, and for letting me brag about Spain a whole bunch. You guys are seriously the bomb.com.

Sentimental posts are the worst.