An descriptive essay
title: My first trip abroad
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Answer:
I had turned 13 the summer my family went on their first vacation trip outside of Sweden. Previously our vacations had, for monetary reasons been limited to shorter trips within the country, or just weeks spent out on the family property out in the archipelago. . Today it’s common to see children barely weaned going off on charter trips, but to me this would be a completely new experience. I was 13 years old and I was getting on an airplane for the first time in my life.
I had absolutely no experience with this sort of travel and found myself relying heavily on my mother’s advice and suggestions, without ever questioning her judgment. She told me what to pack and how to pack; lending me a nice outfit to wear on the plane, a navy blue skirt and jacket that went over a nice blouse .who packed up all of their stuffed animals in their two carry-on bags.
Of the flight down to the island of Majorca, or Mallorca, which was our destination, I don’t remember much, after the first frightening thrill of being up in the air had subsided. I had my first in flight meal and then it was just a matter or amusing myself until we finally landed. No, enduring the flight itself was not all that terrible, what sticks in my mind is the long transfer from the airport to the northern coastal vacation resort where we would be staying. It felt longer then the plane ride itself, simply because by the time we got off the plane and collected our luggage I was exhausted and ready to start having all that fun I’d been promised.
When we finally got off the bus, the next inconvenience reared its head. My travel attire was ill suited for the warm Mediterranean weather and It all felt a little better once we got to our little hotel room/apartment, on the bottom floor with our very own lime tree growing just outside the balcony.
From the get go it was apparent my parents had wanted a fair amount of alone time during this trip, as both me and my brothers had been signed up for these clubs the resort had, geared towards entertaining the children and teenagers of different ages, while their parents had a proper vacation.
The first days of the club I attended with no complaint, playing mini-golf and eating ice cream with other teenagers. Once I even followed one of the girls my own age home to her hotel room/apartment afterwards, while my parents took day trips on their own to explore the surrounding villages, though time has turned that girl and her name into a soft blur in my memory. But then it was announced that all the clubs were to put on a show for the parents and my club was to perform the musical Grease as our little project. In hindsight I feel bad for the money they obviously must have spent to put me in that club and here I had only attended on just a few occasions.
After that my parents had to accept that I would be around during the day, surely restricting their own plans. Not that I noticed. I was merely happy to be away from that distressing group of people, allowed the time to read my books and entertain my own fantasies Its disappearance I recall as something pretty distressing, suddenly there was a different man there, calling himself my father. It took me quite some time to get used to the new, bare face.
That first trip overseas has become more than just a memory of a vacation 20 years ago, it is also another piece of the jigsaw puzzle that is my life and who I am as a person. A puzzle that is not yet complete.
Perhaps one day I will find those final missing pieces I need. And perhaps those will help me understand the rest of my family better.