After spending three days in beautiful Barcelona, we boarded our cruise ship and set out for our first stop: Marseilles, France. I had been to Paris before with my husband, in July of 2002 when I was 30, and remembered having a great time. I’m not saying I didn’t have a great time during this trip. I will say I am 21 years older and the temperature seemed about 22 degrees hotter.

The cruise ship itself was lovely and new, and as is always true with a cruise it was nice to unpack all of our things and have a base of operations for the next 11 days. The kids had their own room, and I think we all appreciated the privacy. The rooms were next door to each other, though, and connected by a balcony so we could all move from room to room if we wanted.

The first night of the cruise was lovely. We had a delightful dinner in a health-conscious restaurant, and my youngest enjoyed a variety of adventurous cuisines including some unusual fish dishes. This, perhaps, was a mistake.

As we were not sleeping in the same room, it took until the next morning for me to learn that she was feeling a little off. She is not a morning eater, and this will occasionally make her nauseated. It was an early morning, and I was sure she was up late talking with friends through the WiFi, as she’d had no real access in Spain. I tried not to give her too hard a time. We were scheduled to visit the Papal Palace in Avignon; it should have been a calm, stress-free, half-day tour.

Not so much. About 15 minutes into the 90-minute ride to Avignon, the child began to shiver. The bus was, indeed, cold, but not that cold. Did I seriously bring a sick child onto a tour bus, post-Covid? I was beside myself. I didn’t even have a mask for her. And then I realized that I had perhaps overindulged in the coffee that morning, and there was no bathroom on the bus.

So, I spent the drive with my hand on my shaking child’s shoulder, thinking about all the times I survived with no restroom break–read also, every day of teaching. I was uncomfortable, and worried, but we made it to Avignon without incident.

Except for the fact that I was able to see the Avignon Bridge–a structure I sang about for years in Kindermusik and Gymboree classes when the children were babies–the most awesome sight for me that day was the restroom. Granted, the child felt too weak to make the climb to the top of Avignon Palace, and we stayed with her because climbing up hundreds of stairs in 97 degree weather didn’t really appeal to any of us. But let’s just say we don’t think we missed all that much. We sat on a bench, in the ruins, in the shade, with a number of other older folks who were either unwilling or unable to make the climb.

I won’t lie–the tour guide kind of scoffed at us. I scoffed at myself. But what was I going to do? Abandon my child? Only my husband had a European cell service plan, and he didn’t want to leave our child any more than I did. So we took a knee and rode out the shore excursion. We found a nice little cafe, bought some pastries and watched my daughter revive. We also went to some gift shops, where I bought some lavender sachets as a gift for my friend who was watching my cats. And good thing I did–I had precious little time to shop after that day.

Fed, relieved, and stable, we boarded the bus back to the ship. My daughters fell asleep. My husband and I looked at each other. What were we going to do? We had pre-purchased all of these shore excursions, and the kids were clearly not into them. The next day we were slated to dock in Nice and travel to Old Monaco and the fortress town of Eze. It was a full-day, 10-hour tour. Would they make it, or would we have to abandon halfway through?

We got home, brought my daughter to the ship’s doctor and had her tested for both flu and Covid. Negative. Our very calm, cool, and friendly doctor from South Africa shrugged. “Maybe it’s cruise crud. Maybe she’s just tired.” He gave us a bottle of gatorade, told her she should eat mild foods, and sent us on our way.

My husband and I opted to salvage some of the next day by allowing the children to stay onboard the ship and go to Monaco and Eze by ourselves. The younger one was not yet 18 and couldn’t be left alone; the older one was 19 and was perfectly fine staying behind. The deal, however, was that they were to rest up and be ready for the following day, when we had planned a full-day excursion to Naples and Pisa. They agreed. So the next morning we set off for the Cote-de-Azure. We had my husband’s phone; the kids had WiFi; it was a perfect plan.

That phrase usually ends up being ironic. This time it’s not. It was an honestly perfect day for all. My husband and I took another long bus ride, but I had prepared accordingly knowing that these were bathroom-free vehicles. We arrived in Old Monaco, walked to the site of Jaques Cousteau’s Beatle-inspiring yellow submarine, and our guide pretty much said, “Here is our meeting point. See you in two hours.” My husband and I enjoyed the gardens and a tour of the royal palace. We learned more about Grace Kelly than I thought possible, and visited the on-site church where she and many members of the Monaco royal family are buried.

We had time to grab some food and watch the changing of the guard before we headed back to he bus and on to Eze, a city built in the Middle Ages on a mountainside to protect it from pirates. And not just any pirates. Barbary pirates like Blackbeard.

To be honest, this was the part of the tour I’d worried about. We got there around 1, and the heat was intense. Our guide told us it would take about an hour of uneven stair climbing to get to the top, and I worried about walking up over 100 steps in the heat and blazing sun. I’m not going to say it was a breeze–the citizens of that medieval city must have been incredibly fit–but we did it, and it was totally worth it.

As we walked to the top of the city we passed by walls with big square holes in them, through which the townspeople would pour hot oil on any invaders. I’d seen it in movies, but here was proof it had really happened. There were smaller holes in the wall from which archers would shoot their arrows. It was like being on a medieval movie set, but it was real!

We decided to go full-on and climb to the very top of the city, to the Jardin Exotique, with an amazing panoramic view. At one point we were incredibly thirsty, hot, and sweaty. We thought about turning back. But then we walked up just a few more steps and were literally flooded by the smell of lavender, spices, and tea. On this little landing, halfway up to the garden, was a shop selling exactly that, loose in baskets, as well as jars of honey and preserves. I will never forget that pungent, unique blend of scents. This, I thought, is why I love to travel. Yes, I can look at pictures of these places, and I can read about them on the internet. But I will never be able to explain, replicate, or experience the heady mix of those scents anywhere else.

I also could never be so majestically surprised at home. As I stood on that landing, looking at the brilliance of the loose spices, teas, and potpourri, and just breathing in and out, I remembered the pandemic days I’d walk around my house, or my yard, or my neighborhood. There were ordinary moments of joy, but no surprises like this. Not ones that took my breath away.

Reinvigorated by the joy of that surprise, my husband and I made it to the top of the garden. We looked out over the city, from which we could see France, Italy, and Spain. We were so proud and happy to know that we still had it. We could still climb the climb, walk the walk, endure the discomfort and revel in surprise.

We boarded the bus home exhausted but really proud. We got back to the ship and found the girls equally happy to have spent the day in the comfort of the ship. We tried not to be disappointed in their lack of disappointment. As we enthused about what we saw, they smiled and told us how much they enjoyed the ship’s library, spa, pool, dining, and arts activities. Different people, enjoying different parts of the vacation, but still having fun. That was another huge surprise for me, and one that I’d just keep learning from as we cruised through Italy.