Assessing relative strengths of travel partners on the way to Bulgaria

We made a quick stop in London on our way to Sofia. I thought it might be a way to break up the long travel but I really failed to understand how vast Heathrow airport really is. The walking distance from our airport hotel to our gate this morning was 1.3 miles, even though the Hilton Garden Inn sits – literally – in a parking lot for the airport. Grace is in possession of some luggage that is far nicer than mine – with smooth-rolling multi-directional wheels. It seems to float by her side, effortless and ethereal, while mine clunks behind me as if I’ve loaded it with paving bricks, causing a muscle spasm in my right arm. At one point yesterday, she let me walk with her luggage for moment and then – ungrateful offspring – took it right back as soon as I understood the chasm of difference between our suitcases. Here’s just one area from our massive trek – PC to Grace, who could take pictures freely with her fine luggage, while I tried not to fall off the 10+ moving walkways:

We made use of our London afternoon by taking the Heathrow Express train from the airport down to Paddington Station. Once at Paddington, the entire world of London museums, theatre and parks offerings are right in front of us and so what we did instead was go shopping at the most enormous Primark discount clothing store I’ve ever seen and shopped for 3 Pound t-shirts and 10 Pound dresses. A question now forms in my mind about how we’ll continue to zip our bags if we’ve already acquired one gauzy white cover-up linen shirt and one long floral dress within an hour of arrival on this 18-day trip. One packing “skill” I use with Ron is to shove a few of my extra things into his bag while he’s not looking and so I miss him already.

Here’s a single shot of the charming London neighborhood we strode right by on the way to Primark – photo credit to Grace:

It is immediately clear that all travel partners have their relative strengths. Grace is fabulously capable of following security regulations in airports, pulling out the right liquids and electronics with minimal fuss. She did have some sort of “incident” on the British Airways flight yesterday. I was busy watching The White Lotus and did not witness what happened, but it involved a malfunctioning soap dispenser and liquid soap-soaked clothes, and resulted in her exiting the bathroom in need of a full change of pants and I could not help but notice that Ron usually gets onto and off of the plane in the same outfit.

We also wandered the food aisles of the Marks and Spencer, assessing the snack foods, the candies, and the ready-to-eat meals. I can already tell that I will be able to spend FAR more time acquiring potato chips and peanut butter candy than Ron usually allows. These are the kind of familial bonds that Ron simply cannot compete with.

We have finally gotten ourselves to Bulgaria. We meet our tour group in the morning and I’ll be back with you after we’ve seen a bit more of Sofia. Here are a few of our arrival pictures for you in the interim. It’s a gorgeous city – green, walkable, and sort of decrepit in that post-Soviet way that I like so much.

As soon as we unpacked at our hotel, Grace asked if we could walk over to a grocery store and just look at all of the products, wander the aisles, and purchase some snack foods. And it’s at moments like this where I realize just what a fine job I have done raising my offspring. Her focus in life is exactly where it should be! Sure, we’re in Europe, but let’s go see the candy selection! Here’s our first haul:

One thing that people mention to me quite often is that I seem to post a lot of toilet pictures. And while I agree it’s true, I feel like the postings come not from my obsession with toilets – they flow more from the endless and nonsensical toilet photo opportunities that travel offers.

Here’s the first one of the trip and I must tell you that – in an additional moment of extreme parental pride – Grace saw this sign in a bathroom and took a picture of it with no oversight or prompting from me! We did a little translation/research and still have no idea why it adorns the toilet stall, but involves a snide commentary about whether or not men ever listen to their wives. The relation of the insult to the busily focused pants-down toilet percher escaped us. If it’s clear to any of you, be sure to enlighten us.

And I’ll leave you with this, from the lovely square just outside our hotel: