I’m one of the generation of children who grew up reading Alexander Dumas. It’s wonderful to see every kiosk featuring stacks of books by this author.

I also really like this picture of me as a vengeful angel, and I’ll post it here even though it has nothing to do with the post:

No, I’m learning German, actually. Or, rather, recovering the German I lost after I left Ukraine.

But the TV screen at my seat on the flight to Spain was pre-set to Hebrew. It wasn’t easy to find my way to the language settings because I know zero Hebrew. Which is why I posted because it was the most fun thing that happened on the barfy flight here.

When I travel alone, it’s always hotels, and I prefer local, small, family-owned.

But when it’s the three of us, staying at a hotel with a child for 2 weeks is impossible. She goes to bed at 7:30 pm. What are we supposed to do? Sit in the dark in complete silence? Suspend our relationship for two weeks? That’s punishment, not vacation. We are a couple in love before we are parents. By myself, I’m mother first and woman second. But with each other, we are man and woman first.

Also, how do I feed a child at a hotel for 2 weeks? Even if I had the money (which I really don’t), I can’t feed her in restaurants three times a day. She isn’t used to that. What she eats is food cooked by me from scratch. I can’t offer her a complete change of diet all of a sudden.

But yes, on my own, I never stayed at an Airbnb. One is a different person by oneself and with a child. In what concerns my child, my only belief is what’s good for her. Spain and everybody else, with all due respect, can get stuffed. Let their own mother care about them.