In a few short hours, Josh heads to Bahrain for 5 days — leaving me in charge of 4 children in a foreign country where I don’t have the slightest clue how to get anywhere except the grocery store (and that’s because I can walk there).
So we’ve been having conversations like this:
Directionally Challenged Me: If I needed to go to the hospital, would I take the entrance to the first freeway or the second one?
GPS Josh: The second one.
DCM: So is that the one that we took to go to church the time that we went the right way or is that the one where we went the wrong way?
GBSJ: The right way. You just get off at (insert foreign-sounding name here that I’ll never remember) and head toward the mountains. It won’t take long to get there — maybe 10 minutes.
DCM: You know I’m not actually planning on going to the hospital, right?
Plan B: get a phone number for a taxi in case of emergency
On the way to the embassy:
GPSJ: That’s the way you’re going to go to take the boys to rugby.
DCM: That’s where we are?! I thought Rugby was over by the freeway.
GPSJ: It is. The freeway is right over there.
DCM: But I’m talking about the freeway that’s by our house.
GPSJ: That is the freeway by our house.
Expanded plan B: Take a taxi to rugby or skip rugby
So it’s going to be an adventure filled several days. And by adventure, I mean normal and mundane tasks like picking up the mail from the embassy will be nail-biting, hair-raising adventures as I have to change lanes and stay to the right to go straight, keep to the inside lane on the roundabouts (since the inside lane has the right of way — figure that one out), and try to follow the breadcrumbs I’ll be dropping to find my way back home . . .