12:15 AM, Tues, August 17th

Just about the only good thing about traveling late is the lack of the traffic, and for our family, the LESS time that we spend in Almaty traffic, the better. There’ve just been too many times we’ve used the last bags for car sickness emergencies. Not so tonight: we were starting out well- in health and with plenty of extra time- just the way I like it. We breezed through customs and passport control, thanks to Mr. Immigration Stampy-Pants, and settled our sleepy selves next to those already waiting to be called to such exotic destinations as Prague, Moscow, and Novosibersk.




No sooner had we plopped down, Anara declared that she was “starving” It’s a good thing, because no one else but a starving person would eat this:




a $4 hamburger bun with a piece of melted processed “cheese” on top. I’m pretty sure she managed to choke down about ½ until she gave up- having just barely cheated death by starvation.

Her alternative was something from here:






But even those so close to succumbing to the horrors of dying by malnourishment would be hard pressed to get several fish ovum into one’s waning system. Which leaves me to ponder just who it was who first experimented with eating such vile things as fish guts, bird vomit nest soup, and sheeps’ private parts. Of course, those same folks were probably wondering how others could eat moldy fermented milk curds, distilled corn mash, and forest fungi.

Boarding was rather uneventful- another long haul flight, another chance to lose a night’s sleep.







This was certainly re-assuring. Great for business, I should say!



The kids lucked out because, well, they are kids, and can sleep just about anywhere; and I lucked out, because I scored an empty row. Just loosen that seatbelt all the way, and stretch on out. After a while the armrests and other seatbelts dig themselves in far enough that you really don’t feel them gutting you anymore. I suppose the glass of Chardonay probably didn’t hurt either. We were headed to a vacation we’ve wanted to do for more than a decade, and life was good. And getting better- or so we thought. Until the all-too-familiar “I don’t feel so good” siren started wailing about an hour before DESCENDING. Oh, ok, no need to panic. Probably just from turbulence, lack of sleep, or excitement.

“No, Mom I need a barf bag!” Givitng myself permission to now panic, the full revelation of a ruined vacation came hurtling down the “This-can’t-be-happening” Express. Of all times for a virus to make its rounds, why now?!! It wasn’t the meatloaf after all!! Thinking back I realized that Anara had been sick about a week before we left, and was thankful it wasn’t during our trip; we assumed Mikes’ Night of Hell was due to little lambs who ate too much ivy. All doubt was gone. This was a NASTY bunch of beasties whose sole purpose was to wreck whatever we had planned for the next 2 days.

Slowly, we disembarked and planned our strategy. It was obvious that we would now need every minute (and possibly more) of our 2 hours we had to find, and get on, our ICE Train to Nuremberg. Would we make it with a 15 year old whose health was DESCENDING quicker than my bank account while being subjected to Disney prices?? Would we find the right track?? And most importantly, which pastry did we choose????