The Zike-Bike Diaries

Behind me, I heard the all-designer-clad woman ask, "Where is the first?" to which her husband replied, "I don't know, I only see a sign that says 'business'".

The cause of their confusion was that there was no sign for First Class boarding. Instead, the flight from San Francisco to Istanbul had two boarding lines: one containing the usual throng of economy class passengers, and another, smaller group that stood in front of a sign that read Business Class.

Just as orange is the new black, 50 is the new 30, and low-waist pants are making a comeback, Business Class has, for some airlines, become the new First Class. Most people (I think most) would take the change in nomenclature with an indifferent shrug but for this couple, it seemed to signify that they had somehow, and without intending to, taken a step down in the world.

In addition to the disappointing exchange of adjectives, the woman had another issue: "Why," she objected, "are there so many people in this line?"

Implicit was that both the quantity and quality of passengers in said line were not to her liking. Standing in front her in my ill-fitting, thrift store outfit, I silently condemned her pretentiousness (but consoled myself that poetic justice was surely going to be served by the toddler who was screaming in her mother's arms at the front of the queue), and yet, if we set aside my petty delight in the discomfiture of an elitist snob, I have to admit that I understood.

Probably no one was more surprised than I was to find myself holding a ticket for a seat in something other than economy class. Economy class is where I have sat on every trip to Europe through my teens, 20s, 30s, and 40s. But now my 50s have arrived, along with a pandemic, and I found myself (incredulous and disbelieving until the end) in that glorious section where you can stretch out and sleep.

Let me be clear that I don't care about the chef-prepared meals, I don't care about the faster check-in, I don't care about any of the perks business class has to offer. I just care about being able to sleep. Not snatching a couple of minutes of an exhausted doze until your neck snaps and jerks you awake, kind of sleep. No. I mean stretch out 100% horizontally, pull a blanket over yourself and dream for 5 hours straight kind of sleep. In my book, that's all that matters, and yet I never thought it was attainable for us until last year when Turkish Airlines offered a 40% discount for RNs who worked through the pandemic. All you had to do was provide proof of employment and you'd get the savings on 4 tickets.

It sounded too good to be true and I assumed, until the flight actually took off, that there was going to be a terrible (and probably mildly humiliating) hitch.

Yet here we are, once again in Europe, and we traveled business (call it First if it makes you feel better, lady) class to get here. I have the (uninspiring) photos to prove it.

That was the SF to Istanbul leg. The seats were these futuristic looking little pods that gave you the sensation you were the only person on the flight. To be honest, it was initially a little disconcerting after years of having children sprawled across my lap, sharing half my allotted shoulder space with Mihai, and enduring the jabs in the back by whatever long-legged passenger was always, always, always behind me. But I managed to adjust.

Istanbul to Bucharest.

It seemed silly to be in business class for a 45 minute flight but it's a package deal.

Not sure why we're so involved with our phones right then.

The train ride to Craiova which, for the first time ever, we did not have to take turns sleeping through (although I notice I still look like I've been hit by a truck so I guess I can't use the "I just flew in from California and haven't had any sleep" excuse).

The final piece of the journey-from Craiova to Obedin by van. 1:30 am but we weren't staggering and stumbling because (yes, I'm going to beat the horse good and dead) we were able to sleep on the flight.

Sleeping on the plane didn't mean we weren't still tired at the end of the trip but what could be better than coming home to your comfy bed, complete with the inexplicable addition of a US Air Force pillow.

(Why?? The eternal question when it comes to decor at Casa Ionescu)

So that was my way of reintroduction this time around: uninspired photos and bragging about being able to sleep on the plane.

Long-time readers of this blog know this is just how I roll, but newer readers should be aware it doesn't always get any better than this.

You've been duly warned.

If 2018 was rough, 2019 was a relief year. Full of adventures and accomplishments, laughter and brightness, it left 2018 in the dust.

Since only Mihai went to Romania, there's not much to show travel-wise. Instead of traveling, the Ionescus got.stuff.done. It was the year of completion.
We completed the ADU. Lucian completed high school. Mihai and I completed child rearing (well...sort of, does one ever really complete that task?) because Lucian moved out and we are officially empty nesters. We completed the paperwork on a piece of property that Mihai inherited in Romania.
I also completed that novel I'd been threatening to write for the past decade.
So we were not idle.

In 2020 we will head back to Romania at least once due to the aforementioned inherited property. The structures that currently stand on said property are only marginally occupiable. If you don't mind using an outhouse for your toileting needs and something like a camp stove for your kitchen needs then it's move-in ready. If you'd like a flushing toilet and a kitchen sink then it's going to take a little work.

But we're not daunted. We just built an entire house, after all, so what's a bathroom upgrade?

Of course we won't have either Wayne or any of the other multitude of friends and family who helped us to complete the ADU so it might be a bit more of a challenge.

We'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, a visual update on the completion of the ADU with lots of photos (and by "lots" I mean to say far too many) and other bits of 2019 which was a pretty good year.