The Move.

With Vesuvio in our rear view mirror, the family loaded up both cars with boys, giant dog, giant dog crate, yowling cat, cat crate, and enough luggage, juice boxes and cheddar goldfish to survive the overland and oversea travel to our new home- Rota, Spain.
As the countdown to this journey began, my husband and I went back and forth about the best way to get ourselves and our shrieking and shedding entourage to Spain.  We had a few options.

    Option 1.

  Beloved Pathfinder (Pathy) gets sold.  Husband drives to Spain with boy Elder.  Mom and remainder of shrieking and shedding entourage board flight to Spain.  Husband meets family at airport.  Happy family drives to new house.

     Complications with Option 1.  

1.  Beloved Pathfinder exhibiting strange new mechanical issues.  Family not comfortable selling Pathfinder with known issues.  Issues likely resolvable with time and TLC, a commodity in short supply during countdown to international move.

2.  Military flights to new home location not scheduled.  Commercial flights available to a location 30 minutes from new home location, but possibility of pets being "embargoed" from flights depending upon weather conditions.  Doing the math, A:  If too hot = no pet transport.  B:  Traveling date=Aug 1  C:  Aug 1 temperature average = Too hot.   A+B+C=D, No pets on the commercial flight.

On to Option 2.

Option 2

Beloved Pathfinder given basic resuscitation methods and prepped for travel to Spain after which a caravan of vehicles travels slowly along the romantic Italian, French, and Spanish Riviera for arrival in Rota relaxed, refreshed, tanned, and happy.

Complications with Option 2

1.  Kids, sigh. 

2  Pets in caravan + travelling temperatures, double sigh.  Oh and the cat is a crate-pooper.  Plan nixed.

On to Option 3.

Option 3

Beloved Pathfinder given basic resuscitation methods and prepped for travel to Spain after which a caravan of vehicles travels to Rome, boards an overnight ferry to Barcelona, and busts a$$ to get to Rota in record time-- resting and relaxing upon arrival.

Complications with Option 3

None foreseen. (This, by the way,  is known in literature as "foreshadowing".)

Thus, with Option 3 as the clear favorite, we undertook the effort of preparing for an overland and overseas international voyage.

Here is the diary of that voyage.

Day 1:  Travel to Rome.  Ferry departure:  10:30pm.  By 7pm,, we are finally racing out of Naples with two packed vehicles, one sporting a new Radiator fan clutch thanks to some last minute amazon orders and hands from a friend.  Arrive just in time to roll onto the Ferry and depart.  

Day 2:  Travel to Barcelona via Grimaldi Lines.  This ain't a Disney Cruise.  Boys go stir crazy in the room, but pool is a postage stamp and "kids club" turns out to be a room with several plastic chairs and some Euro-travellers sleeping one off laying on their backpacks in their Birkenstocks in the corner.  Try to fill time and burn limitless little boy energy by running laps on the deck.  Upside, dog and cat seem cool and comfortable in the onboard kennels.  Arrive in Barcelona about 8pm.  Even though hotel is only 20 minutes outside Barcelona, the "No, no...after you!" approach of the Spaniards while offloading the ferry makes it take about 400% longer than the "Out of my d@#$ way!!!!" approach that would have been taken in Naples.  We get into the hotel about 11pm.

Day 3:  Travel to Alicante, about a 6 hour drive, so about 12 hours on the road with two preschoolers and two pets.  Start the day rocking out to some road tunes on the Ipod, but notice that the last-minute fix on the Pathy isn't holding, and that the engine is starting to overheat with any air conditioning on.  Air conditioning off in 100 degree heat, the caravan presses on.  Stop at at Autogrill, one of the ubiquitous clean and convenient "truck stops" here in Europe to fill up on gas and grab some lunch.  Upon departure, a good citizen calls Joe out of his car to point out that his right rear passenger tire looks low.  Joe looks at it and decides its probably the weight of the car carrier and bags, and decides to address it when we arrive for the night.  About thirty minutes later, the right rear tire of the Audi blows out.  When Joe reaches for his bag to call USAA to get roadside assistance (as neither of us speak Spanish), he notices that his bag is missing.  Turns out the "Good Citizen" was simply a grifter who used a distraction technique to get Joe out of his car to a blind spot while his compatriot opened the driver side door and lifted our stuff.   Coming from Naples, where EVERY bump, long look, or hand gesture was assumed to be from someone on the take-- you'd think we would be on alert.  But turns out that when you trot out the whole clown circus (with yowling cat, constipated, panting, overheated dog, and two half-naked juice and goldfish covered toddlers), your guard just slips....I am sure they took note of our weakness, and took advantage.  Spent the next several hours locating a tire shop, securing some additional travel money, and weighing our options.  Two hours and two new tires later (thank goodness for the single, non-joint credit card account that I had in my purse), we are again on the road.  We make it to Alicante about 10:30, serve up PB&J and boxed milk from our travel stash for dinner, and regroup.  

Day 4:  Awake with a daunting 700K in front of us to Rota. 7.5 hours without stops.  Move boys to Audi from Pathfinder, as 100 degree heat was turning them into dehydrated crankypants.  Move cartop luggage carrier to Pathy.  Crank the heater to keep Pathy from overheating, and stop for nothing except fuel for the cars and chocolate for the heat exhausted mom.  During the entire drive, I can only in my minds' eye see the picture of a Bedouin, flogging a rapidly weakening galloping camel across the desert to what seems like an ever-further oasis.  Arrive in Rota about 6:30p.  Pathy, much like the geriatric camel of my imagination, drops to its' wobbling knees and heaves a huge, wheezing sigh.

Upon arrival in Rota, however, we are greeted by knowledgeable locals who, much to our unending gratitude, navigate entering the base (without our identifying documents-- likely trashed on the side of the road near the Autogrill....lovely), and guide us to a house...with a yard...with a fridge filled with apples and hot dogs and string cheese and breakfast cereal and beer.

A true Oasis.

And so...we begin again. :)