Chasing the Cup - Chapter One

"What? Is there a law against it?" I heard for perhaps the thousandth time… this week. My father, Richard is the King of the ultimate rhetorical question. Often times, indeed, when he asks this, the action in question is against the law. One cannot steal a block of cheese or a puzzle book, merely for the thrill of the chase or naughty for naughty’s sake.

There wasn’t a law against what he was currently on about, which was sneezing and emitting such a noise to accompany it that it caused the patrons around us to cast a most unwelcoming glance in our direction. I had prayed for that wonderful table in the corner under the canopy, but alas, it was the center of the patio for our motley crew.

We four, Dad, myself, my older brother, Michael and my nine-year old daughter, Rosie are sitting at a bistro table in Ronda, Spain, on an ancient plaza, enjoying the soft, warm breeze of late May in Southern Spain. The sky was an indescribable blue – shades of robin egg near the horizon, and rising with momentous and vast expanse above us into a deep indigo. The sun is not visible, but clearly with the sharpness with which each corner of stucco is lit, it is surely not far away. Rosie has chosen gazpacho, a delicious but dubious choice for the child whose repertoire is limited to chicken nuggets or meats approaching their size, consistency, and taste (which doesn’t leave a lot) or a food that the Spaniards clearly do not appreciate – macaroni and cheese.

Rosie has had an interesting reaction to this country, declaring within the first 24 hours of our arrival in Los Boliches that she was "allergic" to Spain, since her nose was continually running. She felt Spain was dusty and aggravating to her delicate senses. But, as she is reminded by me too often, this is "grandpa’s trip" so experiencing Spain as he prefers it be done is the ultimate goal.

We have embarked upon a thirty day trip through parts of Europe that play an important role in my 82 year old father’s life. A life deeply influenced by the meager way he began his life. Our trip began in Boston, would take us to Spain, Ireland, and Bavaria. As we came together, my brother Mike and Dad from Santa Cruz, California, and Rosie and I from South Portland, Maine, we all held visions for what the trip would mean to each of us. Even in the planning stages, this had been a truly "Dad" travel experience – my brother Mike trying to balance extravagance with the wishes of his father, whose idea of extravagance is indoor plumbing. I am trying to ensure that while we experience the true Dad itinerary, we still incorporate the tourist level accommodations we look forward to on a holiday.

In true fashion, I have made too many plans and not been successful in communicating my progress, which causes my older brother Mike to encourage me to cancel all that I have done, based on the fact that the itinerary will and has changed, and that what I consider basic, they consider luxurious.

All that being said, it all works out for the best and we get on the plane in Boston at 7PM one Sunday evening in May.