Panting in a furious commotion, I heaved my overbearing bags out the door and flew out. My mother had already begun to scurry and her fast-paced walk eventually turned into a five hundred meter dash. Trying to grasp her constant pace, I felt as if I was sprinting in the Boston Marathon just fighting to get to the finish line. Occasionally she bellowed, “Hurry up!” or “Come on, Come on” to try to motivate my pace to become quicker, but nothing would help. With my palms sweaty, face soaked with perspiration, and bladder almost ready to explode, we peered around anxiously for the information to help us get to the Milan plane station train. My eyes, sore from lack of rest, blurrily made out a faint “stanza da bagno” and a picture of a toilet. How I longed to be one with the white donut-holed trashcan, the restroom! But complaining about my urge to go to the bathroom was the last thing my mother needed. After strenuous minutes of sprinting, my legs were about to pop off my body and run away. Although we were tired and sweaty we finally reached the right train. However, this heavy clamor was not a surprise to me at all; my mother and I hadn’t even completed half of the journey to our final destination. We were days from finishing our backbreaking, extended adventure to Hvar, the in-the-middle-of-no-where, unreachable island.

My muscles ached from wheeling two suitcases and the weight of a violin as I chucked them onto the overhead compartment of the train. I was ready to throw everything overboard because I was so frustrated. Everyone stared curiously as we entered, the two Asians onboard causing so much noise. We stuck out like red ink on white paper. Speaking in Italian, they continued to converse and shouted remarks across the train. As we finally took our seats my legs were drenched in sweat and my pants clung to my legs like wet cement on a brick house. My visor, which had once been new, already had a staunch smell and combination of smoke from neighboring cigarette addicts and my sweaty perspiration. Completely relieved after I was able to go to the little girl’s room, I sat down on the train’s uncomfortable semi-padded seats and sighed with a feeling of liberation. I rested my head on my U-shaped gray fuzzy pillow that we had bought in New-York before our trip. The headrest cushion had turned filthy and was polluted with the combinations of dirt from the ground and my disgusting drool. Regardless of its color and smell, I closed my eyes and, listening to the muddle between the music of my CD player and the rumbling of the train, and had soon fallen asleep.

After what seemed like only five minutes, I felt a faint tap on my shoulder and jumped up frantically. Was the uncanny dream of nonstop havoc over? Well, apparently no; our quick break had only ended. My mother and I felt as if we had become a football team and our rest on the train was just an ordinary timeout. “Hurry up,” my mother repeated again, as she pointed to her watch. The nagging words that had been uttered so often were ignored. Our train had been delayed by half-an-hour and we were late, as normal. This meant that we would have to be extra careful to catch all the right trains, buses, planes and boats to arrive on time. As I calculated complicated formulas in my head, I figured out that my sprint would soon have to turn into a superman. The equations and intricate plans were more difficult than Einstein’s E=mc 2. My body was even sore from the thought of running again. Once we hopped off the train and onto a bus, our adventure continued.

To the airport, Batman! I thought as instantly my backpack transformed into a dark cape and I into Robin. My cartoon character efforts amused me, and helped me get through the day. We didn’t have super natural powers, to spew off crime, but Batman, my mom, and I continued the battle to arrive in our destination.

The airport was full of commotion, everyone walking in different directions yelling and screaming instructions in mass hysteria. My mom and I were still lost in confusion due to the language barrier and asking bystanders did not do us much good.

“Scuzi,” we would politely ask someone, butchering the Italian accent.

“Do you know where this is?” we would point to the map to the symbol with the red star.

“Asdfj weiro cnjkwe cdiso wehiro spiacente(sorry),” was all they could reply.

To my ears, this strange character had altered into the crazy teacher in the cartoon Charlie Brown, who could speak nothing but purified gibberish.

But our attempts did not stop there; we had to figure out how to board the soon-to-be-leaving plane. Asking the clergy woman at the information kiosk didn’t help, and all she could do was point to booth number forty-six. “Forty- six,” a middle-aged woman said impatiently, “Go to forty-six”. Her English wasn’t very good, but we rushed over to “Croatian Airlines; forty-six”, hoping for a short line compared to the others, but all we could find was an empty chair and a non functional computer. The closed darkened booth made it seem as if all hope was lost. I sat down on my luggage and looked at my watch; we had spent so much time trying to find the right place, that there was no way we would get to Hvar by plane. Was it all over? Should we just pack up and leave?

My mothers’ hair had stuck up with anger and frustration. Her eyes grew soft and her face had lengthened with sorrow as she pulled her hair frantically. I stood up and gently patted her back, feeling sympathetic about the trip she had spent weeks planning in advance. Her strong, unbreakable figure that I had always seen was slowly disintegrating right in front of me.

“It’s okay, Mom, we’ll make it there okay. We can get there all right,” I cooed.

“I don’t know if we can make it there in one piece,” she sighed.

“Yes we can, of course we can!” I tried to force a smile out of my weak face, but it was hard when we had tried so hard and had only gotten so far.

“There’s no way we can give up now. Not when we’ve made it this far,” I said as I wiped the dripping sweat off of my face.

She gave me a long look and continued to pull her hair. Her worried expressions had begun to rub off on me and I began to bite my nails. She slowly walked over towards me and looked at the suitcase I was resting on.

“Get off, Get off!” she said, shooing me away from the black luggage.

I heard her fingers pull the zipper and give the old, worn luggage a slight pull and my mother pulled out a skinny paperback. Checking in our only source of knowledge, my mother’s sweaty hands opened a flailed blue book with pictures of beautiful islands on the cover. The images of beaches and people eating ice-cream made it seem like a Heaven we would never reach.

“Hey, we may be able to catch the ferry or boat,” my mother said with a sigh of relief.

“A … ferry?” I said slowly. I had never ridden a boat before and the thought of boarding a small toy-sized boat and being capsized in a gigantic storm filled me with terror. But if this was the quickest way to get to Hvar, then I was willing to do anything.

“Okay, I guess that will work,” I cautiously answered.

“But, we would have to go back to the train station, like if that’s okay with you, and go back to where we were, in Ancona.”

“Ancona?!” I said in disbelief. That was another six hours of being stuck on a train listening to the clatter of the wheels clanging against the tracks. Ancona was where I had just wasted all my energy in sprinting to catch the next train. It seemed as if my previous marathon effort had reaped nothing. I shifted my eyes to the left and right; assuming that there was no other way, I reluctantly nodded my head.

My mother and I packed up our belongings and headed for the eleven o’clock at night train ride back to Ancona. I stayed awake for some time on the train, scouraging through our bags for any type of food that would appear. I was welcome to anything that looked somewhat edible. Ah, what was this, I thought as I pulled out a blob poorly wrapped in paper.

My stomach was growling with anticipation and oh yes, now I remember it was the leftover sandwich from lunch on the other train ride. I never knew that the salty blend of toasted baguette bread with porsciutto and scrawny pieces of lettuce could taste so savory in my mouth. The flavors united so well that it tasted like melted butter. I grew sad when the big sandwich had disappeared into my belly.

All this hype about food had made my throat become dry and itchy. Although the windows were open on the train, I could still feel the humidity and stuffiness of the air surrounding me. The sun was gone, but the heat still made it seem as if it were shining right down on me, watching my every move. The ever present dryness had made me use up what was the last of the huge ¼ of liter “Jamnica” bottled water that we had bought earlier. The last drips of water I sucked from the bottom of the bottle were insufficient. I moaned and groaned myself to sleep as my mother continued her reading with her feet propped up on the opposite seat.

Once we arrived I checked my blue almost-broken watch, which read four o’clock in the morning. After taking several cat naps, my body had not still adjusted to the jet lag and was confused on the real definition of sleep. We arrived back in Ancona still carrying and plunging on with our adventure. It was four in the morning and the next train to the ferry station would not depart until eight o’clock. Where to stay? In the heat of the night, I didn’t exactly have a preference where to sleep. As long as my eyes could close in peace and I was left undisturbed, I was okay with anything.

The blueprint of the familiar train station that we had once rushed through now came back to me clearly, and I remembered a resting area on the east side. After much deliberation and strenuous minutes of persuasion, my mother and I decided that we would just stay in the rest area. It appeared as if the nearby hotels didn’t have air conditioning and would not solve any of our problems. We dragged ourselves into the sitting room, already used to the few stares and glances directed our way across the room. Too tired to care, we plopped down onto blue uncomfortable, broken chairs, and were finally able to try and relax.

Since my mother refused to have both people sleep and leave our precious valuables open for grabs, she wanted someone to stay awake and watch guard. Although my body was still weary, I offered my mother the opportunity to sleep. Hesitant of leaving me alone, she slowly closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. I looked at her smudged glasses and perspiring face as her snores filled the ambiance of the room. Despite her nagging comments and persistent remarks throughout the trip that had annoyed me constantly, I appreciated how much effort and determination she had used to help me as much as possible. I knew that a few hours of sleep was only the least I could give to show her my gratitude.

Even though sleep may have been easy to give up, the heat was unbearable. My legs were so disgusting and I could feel layers of perspiration causing my pants to cling to me. All I could think about at this time was the thought of taking an ice, cold shower. I could imagine the aroma of fruit essences in my head and the thought of washing my hair made me ecstatic. It was only then that I realized how lucky my life was. Sure it may seem silly, but I never had felt the urge to use household appliances in my life! From clean bathroom toilets to taking a shower to having air conditioning to even washing my hands; all of these made me realize how often I had taken the little things for granted. I missed home and longed to see my comforting bed once again, and the sight of my blue and red house.

As I listened to the lyrics of my uplifting songs, I knew that if my mom and I had made it this far, we could make it anywhere else. Pinching myself and reading my boring novel, London was hard, but I managed to stay awake for the three more hours. Occasionally I would get up, and stretch out my legs and stomp around, guarding our luggage and my mother like precious jewels. All I needed was a black fuzzy hat and a red overcoat to look like one of those silly British guards.

The café opened by seven o’clock and my mother and I grabbed a cup of coffee and a pastry. We sat, giggled and fantasized about how desperate we were to take a shower and how bad we smelled. Our laughter constantly filled the room as she told me embarrassing stories of her previous traveling experiences and adventures to Japan and also Italy with my father. Even though my mother had gotten annoying at times with her sergeant drills, and thriving goals, I loved moments like those, in which I was completely relaxed, and I could relate to her like a best friend.

After another whole day of traveling, my mother and I finally reached our destination. We had taken a total of 1 taxi, 2 planes, 2 busses, 5 train trips, and 2 boat rides to actually reach Hvar, an island off the coast of Italy.

“We made it!” My mother and I shouted as we triumphantly plunged onto our oh-so-soft and comforting beds. We flung open our windows and gazed out onto the coast of Hvar. The lights and music made the city come alive in the night and the joy and laughter of people in the street made us feel welcomed. Although there was a small comical fight about who would take the long-anticipated shower first, my mother generously let me go first.

Our first night in Hvar was full of snores and relaxation. After three days of continuous traveling, lack of sleep, no shower, and no beds, I felt as if I had just climbed Mount Everest, only in the opposite weather. I laid on the bed with my hair soaked from the hour long cold shower I had taken. My back throbbed from the weight of my bags and I felt liberated without the hassle of worrying about the trip anymore. After all that traveling, it felt so good to actually sit! Batman and Robin had actually defeated the evil villain, “The trip to Hvar.” In the back of my mind, I worried about how to get back home, in America, which now seemed so far away after all that traveling. But, I had worried too much this whole trip and I was way too tired to think about another single thing. Just the idea of carrying my luggage gave me a headache! I glanced next to my mom who had already begun to snore, and closed my eyes enjoying the sweetness of sleep and rest.