Our Return to Lisboa

We've been back in Lisbon for a whole week now. It feels so different this time. I have M.C. so I'm not by myself all the time, and it's not the "new, unfamiliar and scared out of my wits, moving to a different continent where everyone speaks a different language and I'm completely isolated" feeling. Moving back to somewhere you've lived before isn't nearly as frightening as a new city you've never been to. It's more like going to visit an old friend. We're enjoying re-living our memories of our last time here--they somehow seem more funny than at the time: Christmas Eve, Carlos yelling at the SWAT team outside our apartment building (I thought for sure they would shoot him--smart move, honey), the missionaries literally chasing down an investigator in the park who was hiding and then running from them (embarrassing, now just hilarious), taxi drivers getting lost taking us all over the city and making us very car sick along the way (I was sure we were being abducted). You know, all the good stuff. (don't worry we do have better ones than that, but right now, these make me chuckle). Lisbon is endearing though. It is old, er, antiquated, charming, and quaint. Okay, and dirty. (what large city isn't?) I forgot how much I loved the red tiled roofs, and it's so refreshing to have sunlight after living in Pittsburgh for two years (seriously, my hair has never been so dark).

Our trip here was horrible, as we figured it would be. Travelling overseas with a 1-year-old is not a good idea. It's just not. The most relaxing part of our trip was going through security, both in SLC and in Paris. The red-eye 10-hour flight between the two felt like it would never end. The moment I sat down on the plane I knew it was a bad idea. I almost got up and left. M.C. slept for maybe 2-hours during the flight--mostly while Carlos was standing up holding him. He cried for almost 30 minutes before he actually fell asleep, which did not endear us to the other passengers or flight attendants. (but come on, for a 10 hour flight, or even a regular day, 30 min. of crying is not bad). Honestly, M.C. was an angel, the other passengers and flight attendants were not. I think I perfected my motherly laser look. (too bad no one could see it in the dark). Carlos actually got into an argument with one of the flight attendants, that became ongoing during the flight. I was proud of him for keeping his cool. She did not keep hers. It got ugly. She was completely out of line. In the end, we got an apology, and a refund. I don't ever want to fly Delta again. M.C. developed a welt on his leg during the flight (apparently from his shots a week earlier). It was huge and hard by the time we made it to Lisbon. Of course that would happen just as we're leaving the country. Stupid shots. This week he's also developed a rash all over his body, has had a fever, is cutting two more teeth, and we're all adjusting to the new time schedule. Sleep has not been easy for anyone. If our downstairs neighbors hate us, I wouldn't blame them. Carlos has tried to knock on their door to apologize, but no answer. See how romantic overseas travel is?

On the upside, we found the most delicious Indian restaurant right down our street, the weather is marvelous, and we've gotten to see old friends. (Well, Carlos has--I didn't dare take a feverish/rashy baby to church). I've mastered the clothesline outside our 3rd (or 4th?) story window, and have successfully gone to the grocery store in the rain, with a stroller, by myself. I'm basically a native. People are very kind to you here if you have a baby. It's very refreshing. Our apartment is lovely, clean, newly renovated, and very Ikea-esque, which seems apropos for Europe. Minus the leaking kitchen ceiling, it's great. Whoops, we're staying positive here. My sweet in-laws will be here in 8 days, and I can hardly wait. Seriously, we're counting the minutes. I was thinking to myself that I wasn't homesick at all, then realized the night before I sang "My Country 'Tis of Thee" to get myself to sleep, and I've had West Side Story's "I Like to Be in America" stuck in my head for two days now. My Puerto Rican accent is awesome. No, no it's not. Well, M.C. just woke up from his nap, so you'll have to wait for pictures...