Eleven members of Bop's swim team qualified and traveled to Italy for the meet where they represented our German city. The meet was held in an Olympic pool that was mere miles from the Adriatic coast. The meet was held on a Saturday, and Bop and I traveled with another mother/daughter duo on Friday evening to Italy. Bop was ill and so stuffy that I rubbed a liberal application of Vick's on her chest prior to her heat. Bless her, she did wonderfully in spite of her sickness and the pressure of being in lane four (organizers always place the fastest seeded swimmer in lane four with other swimmers placed on either side with similar but slightly slower times and so on in order that the race should look like an inverted "v" like that of a geese formation).
After finishing her event, Bop and I went to the coast where she played in the sea before going out to lunch and flying home that evening. It was a bit of a whirlwind trip, but J and I felt it was important to go so that her accomplishments could be honored. We're very proud of her.
During the trip, I learned that gas stations close quite early on the weekends. Unlike pumps in the U.S. that offer the customer the ability to pay an exact amount at the pump, Italy does business a little differently. One prepays by depressing a button on the pump in either 5 or 10 Euro denominations until you reach what you think is the appropriate amount. One then inserts the money into a slot and turns the pump on. The first go round of 10 Euros didn't quite fill our rental car's tank. About this time a Frenchman and his wife discovered that their tank was full up without having used all of their pre-deposited money, so I paid the difference to the Frenchman and continued to fill my car with their pump. As luck would have it, the rental's tank was still under the full mark, so my friend and I deposited another 10 Euros, the only bill left to us. Naturally, our pump switched off after approximately 1,50 Euros worth of gas had been pumped. The real kicker was discovering that one isn't given change, only a receipt promising a refund if you returned to the EXACT station during business hours. As we were returning our rental car to fly home, a refund wasn't possible. At least we can feel good about helping out Italy's slumped economy, right?
We also discovered that coastal towns are more like ghost towns during the off-season; it seems most properties in Lignano are rental/holiday homes. Most restaurants were closed, and we couldn't find a single one that served pasta...can you imagine? We stopped at the first restaurant that appeared to be open and were served by waitresses wearing Ray-Ban Top Gun like shades and police uniforms. There was a moment where I thought we might be eating in a strip club and the waitresses would fling their hats at the kids before mounting a pole. Luckily, they didn't. The get-up was some sort of kitsch.
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