Chapter 4

The Day I Ate Far Too Much Austrian Chocolate and Made My First Big Mistake as a Photographer “to Be”

sssst. Nicole! Nicole, wake up,” I whispered into Nicole’s ear as she continued

to snore obnoxiously next to me. I shifted in my seat and sat up on my knees

so I could lean over her more. I got right up in her face so I could smell the faint hint of

the turkey Swiss cheese sandwich still on her breath from our afternoon snack.

“Nicole!”

“What, what. Ehhm. Go away” came her reply.

“Nicole this is no time for you to be sleeping,” as I opened her eyes up with my

fingers forcing her to listen to me.

“Did you see the man in 14B?”

“What are you talking about Bea,” Nicole growled. She was never one for being

woken up…teenagers. I may almost be a teenager, but I can’t be that bad!

“I said did you see the man in 14B?”

“Yes, Bea. I saw him. Is that the only reason why you woke me up? She turned

back over and pulled her hoodie up over her face. I snatched it right back down.

“But did you actually see him? He has this huge scar all along his cheek and

keeps ordering more drinks with these little cherries. I think he got into a fight. Do

you think he works for the mafia? Is there even a mafia anymore?”

“P

“Bea, let the man fly on the airplane in peace. No, don’t give me that look. You

can’t just go asking everyone about his personal lives. Stop over analyzing the man.

It’s just a scar.”

“But a scar means a story Nicole. A breaking news story, a fight, a struggle, a

tiger loose from the zoo? Something!” Maybe I needed to stop reading Brian Horton’s

book on photojournalism so much, a book that Dad had left behind when he moved out.

I had brought it along for some downtime reading and barely put it down last night. I

was starting to feel myself become overly obsessed. But, I mean a photojournalist must

always be on her toes for the newest story. That’s what dad was always telling her.

“Well then go ask the nice man in 14B about it, but let me sleep.”

I don’t over analyze things. I just pay attention. The best way to be a journalist,

photojournalist or not, was to pay attention. What made everyone different? Was that

a costume for a party, or was it how the person normally dresses? Who was it that just

walked through the store? You have to be ready for a story around every corner.

Like this airplane, for instance, which is basically a story of expensive pain. How

is it that airplanes make so much money by making people feel so uncomfortable? I am

only twelve and can barely fit in my seat while sleeping, and I know my mom had to

have paid enough money for these seats that we deserve a blanket larger than a dish

towel. Yet, here I am squished like a sardine into a tiny little seat more uncomfortable

than my desk back at school, attempting to read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and

sit still. I hate airplanes.

Add in the fact that Nicole has been snoring next to me for the past two hours

and Mom just watched the same soap opera five times in a row on the tiny TVs on the

back of our seats, and you get one heck of a great flight. Seriously though, I wish I had

an elevator like Mr. Wonka’s. We could’ve been in Austria so much faster, with greater

company and seen so much more while flying if this airplane was made out of glass.

That would make one incredible photo. I wish my life were like the books I read.

Everything was just far more interesting between the pages of Narnia and Wonderland,

than this weird life of mine. But unfortunately, instead I’m headed to Vienna, Austria.

Still Europe is supposed to have pretty great chocolate. Maybe they could compete

with Wonka after all.

We were finally out of the airport and in the taxi that would take us to our hotel.

I could have cried; I couldn’t wait to stay in a hotel. Nicole and I started to play a game

called “Who could find the prettiest building” and Mom was our judge.

“That’s definitely the winner,” said Nicole.

“No way, look at that one. Is that a castle?” I replied.

And so it went on for the hour ride until Mom said, “Nope, I’m the winner. There it is,

our hotel.”

“That’s where we are staying?” I asked. It sure didn’t look like a hotel, but it was

still one of the coolest buildings I had ever seen. Plus, after living in Honduras for a

week I was so ready to stay anywhere that barely even looked like it could be a hotel.

“It’s pretty neat, right? A giant glass pyramid in the middle of the city, do you

like it?”

“Do I like it? Mom, it’s the best thing I’ve seen in years!” Plus, it reminded me of

Wonka’s elevator.

“Bea, you’re such a drama queen. You act like we’ve been living in the Sahara

Desert for the past week.”

“Nicole don’t be ridiculous, there wasn’t any sand. It clearly was not the

Sahara.” I replied.

“Oh girls, please. Not now, let’s just get unpacked. It’s been a long day for all of

us.”

We pulled up under a huge burgundy awning and I stared straight up to the

teeny tiny point at the top of the glass pyramid. “

The lobby of The Pyramid hotel was gigantic, and it had large pillars every few

feet that stretched from the floor to the base of the pyramid, making it look even

bigger. While mom checked us in, Nicole and I made a dash towards a buffet set up in

the corner of the room. No matter what country we were in, I was also going to be

hungry.

But as soon as we got there Nicole’s face dropped, “What is this stuff?” asked

Nicole.

“Who cares? It is chocolate!” I said immediately diving into the glass bowl filled

with tiny individually wrapped chocolate.

Nicole was right though; it was a strange mix of food for it being later in the

afternoon. Egg sandwiches, we think, oranges that were pink once you peeled them,

chocolate squares filled with gooey caramel, huge shrimp with their little eye balls still

attached and meatloaf.

All of a sudden a deep voice said, “Willkommen, kann ich Ihnen helfen?” As he

spoke a little shower of spittle was lovingly bestowed upon my face. I closed my eyes in

disgust as I felt the man’s spit find a new home all over my face. Apparently the

Austrians enjoyed spitting as they talked too. How wonderful.

With my plate piled with chocolate, an orange in my other hand and trying to

swallow a shrimp’s head, I managed to say “what?” to the tall waiter standing behind

us. He just chuckled to himself and said “English?” in his thick accent and repeated

himself in English this time.

“Can I help you?”

Nicole answered for us, “No, I think we’ve figured out where the chocolate is.

Thank you though,” as she stared at me. He chuckled to himself and walked away.

Nicole was laughing at me too. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe he could have

brought an entire cake for you to finish off too. I just figured since you had both of your

hands full…”

“You’re hilarious,” I said with a straight face, “but some of us didn’t enjoy the

rotted turkey sandwich and turnip on the plane this morning.”

“It wasn’t rotting. There was just hollandaise sauce on the bread.”

“Whatever, it smelled weird and I don’t want Holland anywhere near my

sandwiches,” as I shoved even more chocolate into my mouth. Before Nicole had the

chance for a sassy remark Mom walked up to us with a smile on her face.

“Hey, Bea, it looks like dad has been keeping an eye on you. Here’s your next

assignment, Miss Photojournalist” as she handed me a piece of paper.

“The manager said it was faxed in this morning,” said Mom.

“Do FAX machines even work still?” I asked. Mom rolled her eyes at me.

Yes! I knew Dad told me he would send me my next assignment as soon as

possible, but I didn’t expect the fax machine to go off the second we got to the hotel! I

quickly read the note.

“Beatrix Bordeau – World Class Photographer

Assignment #4: You are currently in one of the most beautiful cities in the world

and it is your mission to capture it all. Shoot whatever you can, whenever you can, do

not miss out on this opportunity because you’re missing home too much. Embrace the

moment Bea, but especially find these photos for your old dad, because no matter

where I am, I will always be your dad.

1. A woman brushing her hair in an open window, a real life Rapunzel. Pay

attention to the people, remember a photo journalist always wants to tell the

story of the regular person.

2. The inside of the Austrian Library. You’ll be in awe, I just know it.

3. Weiner Prater, do some research. I’m sure you can figure this one out without

my help. Go have some fun!

Remember, I love you Bea.”

So there it was… my next assignment.

“I don’t understand why Dad still just sends her letters or emails, but not me.

I’ve barely gotten any messages from my friends while we’ve been gone,” whined

Nicole as she flopped onto the bed nearest the window.

“You’re not a photojournalist, now are you? Plus, I’ve gotten along better with

him than you have,” I said throwing my bags on the ground and carefully placing my

camera case on the table in the corner.

“Girls, not now. Dad is just trying to give Bea some motivation Nicole. This

whole situation has hit her a little harder than you. You understand things better, let

Dad help Bea out.”

I was so ready to go do my new assignment, but after my little adventure at the

buffet table, I wasn’t feeling too well. Mom needed to go to her first meeting right after

lunch. This time she was going to go check out a newer organization, just a few miles

away. Mom said her boss wanted her to figure out how the company had such a cool

website, so they could have one that looks like it.

“Sorry I need to run, please don’t kill each other. I don’t even know where the

hospital is around here yet, and I don’t even have the time to take one of you to the

Emergency Room. Please behave!” Then Mom made Nicole promise that I would stay

in bed until she got back from her meeting.

“Please don’t make me stay here with her,” whined Nicole.

“Oh, thanks, Nicole, definitely feeling the love,” I called from the bathroom. I

decided to make quick friends with our hotel toilet.

“I promise you we will go sightseeing tomorrow, but I’m supposed to meet with

the CEO of this company in an hour and I don’t know how long it will take for me to get

there. I also can’t have Bea wandering around a brand new city when she just ate her

weight in chocolate and won’t leave the bathroom. I won’t be gone long, just stay here.

I’m leaving a phone number for the company where I will be at, but you both still have

my mobile number, right? I will be back right before dinner.”

And off she went, just like that.

“I’m getting tired of Mom just wandering off on her own adventures while we get

stuck in hotels and bedrooms until she comes back.” I said. “She hardly ever let us stay

by ourselves when we were back home. What’s gotten into her?” I ask.

“Well, this time it’s your own fault for making yourself sick. We could be

wandering Vienna right now if it weren’t for you.”

“I apologize, but you can’t just not eat free chocolate. It’s practically illegal! We

can’t even leave the hotel room anyway; we don’t even know where we are. Especially

not without Mom.”

“How hard is it to find a giant glass pyramid in the middle of the city? I think we

will be okay.”

“You’re serious? About wandering Vienna? You and Mom have both seriously

lost your minds.”

First Mom decides to just up and leave us in a foreign hotel and now my sister

wanted to go wander outside the foreign hotel in the foreign city, unaccompanied.

Sheer brilliance. I seriously hope I’m adopted; maybe I could search for the adoption

papers once we got home.

“Mom said she would be gone for a few hours. We wouldn’t have to go far, but

this place is beautiful. Just look at it. Plus, didn’t Dad tell you to go embrace it. ” Nicole

walked over to the window and threw open the curtains.

“Come on we just survived a week in Honduras, how bad could Austria be?”

She had a point.

“Fine, but give me like a half hour. Otherwise I will be vomiting all over that

beautiful city.”

“You’ll be alright, just take one of these and let’s go!” She dug through her

backpack until she found a bottle of Tums and tossed it my way.

“You’re relentless, you know that, right?”

“And proud of it. Come on, you seriously can’t tell me you aren’t dying to go

find that library or a schnitzel stand or something.”

“Okay, okay, okay. Let’s go, but first tell me what schnitzel is.”

* * *

“I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life,” was quickly going to

become my catchphrase during this month. I wish I had ten eyeballs all around my head

instead of only two so I could see Vienna from every which way. The easiest way to

describe what I saw was just the cutest town you could possibly imagine. It looked like

post cards you would find a tourist shop. There were of course tall buildings and

offices, because after all it was still a city, but there was a little bit of “old” Vienna left.

Nicole and I wandered around attempting to see everything, but going nowhere

in particular. There was time for that later. We came up to one street that was really

tiny and it winded back all the way around a curve. There were little red brick houses

lined up against it with beautiful iron gates over the windows, flower beds in the front

yards and every building seemed to be unique. I didn’t mind not seeing the “cookie-

cutter” suburban neighborhoods like we were used to back home. Each home, or

building, looked as if it had its own personality.

I couldn’t tell if it was just a shock that everything seemed to be so beautiful, or

if I had truly become used to how poor Honduras looked, but I was quickly falling in

love with all of the Austrian buildings. As we walked past a building with beautiful

carved pillars and tiny detailed work all along the outside of the windows, a familiar

face walked around the corner and quickly disappeared.

“Is that…?” I began to ask as a truck raced around the corner interrupting me

with a blast from his horn.

“Is that who?”

“It looked just like Dad!” I strained to see the man down the street, but he was

long gone.

“Bea, I know it is fun for you to get these mysterious messages from Dad and

all…but I promise you he isn’t stalking you in the streets of Austria.”

“But I swear it looked just like him!”

“And there is supposed to be at least two other people on this planet that look

just like you. It wasn’t him.”

Nicole led the way this time down another road called “Ring Road,” all while

making sure that the glass pyramid was never too far away. We seemed to casually pass

palaces on the side of the road. Places where queens, dukes and counts could all live.

Places that would definitely be written down in some dusty old history textbook. If

America looked this cool I would never want to leave.

“Let’s find something cool to see and then head back to the hotel. We don’t

want to be gone and have Mom looking for us.”

“Sounds good.” I responded. “But what are we actually looking for?” I was

dragging my feet along the cobble stone feeling how different it was from the dirt paths

in Honduras.

“Anything. I just can’t go back to the hotel just yet. I’m tired of being cooped up

all the time. Besides, don’t you want to see if you can find some of your assignments

from Dad?”

“Danggit!” I hung my head in frustration and stopped myself on the sidewalk.

People kept walking right around me as I stood in their way.

“What’s wrong?” asked Nicole. I didn’t look up. “Oh, you forgot your camera

didn’t you…Miss photojournalist.”

How could I be so stupid? Dad would be so disappointed in me, and I didn’t want

to give him another reason to stay away for even longer. As I started to tear up, Nicole

grabbed my hand.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re here for a whole week. Relax, all

photographers make mistakes.” She wrapped me in a hug, something she hadn’t done

recently. It felt nice to be on the same side for once.

“Let’s just finish our walk and head back to the hotel, okay?”

I sniffed into my t-shirt and nodded…even Dad had his off days. He’s told me so,

like that one time he thought that if he just slid forward a few more inches on his front

foot that he could get the perfect shot of the sun setting over the ravine. A few

surgeries, one cast and twelve hours in the hospital later, he was back home. I at least

hadn’t injured myself yet. I quickly found a tree to “knock on wood,” in hopes that

never happened to me.

So back we went to the hotel, wandering once again through the beautiful

streets. There was such a strange combination of houses and stores or businesses on

the street. For example, there happened to be an apartment right above a tourist store.

That’s not something you would ever see back in Morton. We turned the corner onto

the street the hotel is on and as we were passing the cute houses all lined up in a row,

there was a gap in the hedge of one particular house. I barely fit but went far enough to

see the cutest white house with a red brick roof and there she was. There, in the second

level balcony, a woman actually brushing her hair in the breeze. I thought that

assignment was going to be absolutely impossible, who brushes their hair on a balcony?

Apparently Austrians do and I wasn’t going to question it right now.

“Nicole! Look!” I shuffled back through the hedge to the sidewalk and motioned

for her to come to me.

“Look, it’s Dad’s assignment!” I said.

“Bea, let the woman brush her hair in peace. Plus do I need to remind you we

don’t have a camera?”

Shoot, she was right. Dad might just have to believe me on this one. Nicole

disappeared back onto the sidewalk, but I stole one last look at my Rapunzel. This

photojournalist thing can’t be that hard…I probably should just try to remember my

camera next time.

Chapter 5

That One Time I Accidentally Got Kicked Out of the Austrian National Library

nce I got my photojournalism mojo back, or at least that’s what Dad always

seemed to call it, I was ready to go start my assignment. This stuff couldn’t be

too hard to find. Well, besides the fact that I had no clue what, who or where a wiener

prater was. My guess was that it was a famous hot dog stand. Hot dogs were Dad’s

favorite food; maybe Austria just had a really good wiener. I was on the hunt! I was

most excited about finding the library. Dad might have left, but he still knew the way

to my heart, books!

Mom decided to take today off and come with us on a day of touring. She even

promised we could find the library first; I knew she wasn’t always trying to ruin my life.

We took the same road that Nicole and I went on yesterday and casually walked

through the streets taking in all the touristy sights and smells one can handle in an

afternoon. For a Friday afternoon the streets seemed incredibly busy with people,

women with shopping bags up to their elbows chasing after kids in the street, and men

wearing suits on cell phones looking like they were making money just by walking

through the streets.

After what seemed like an eternity, the road we were on widened into a square

with cobblestone. In the middle was a huge monument to some guy on a horse, most

likely important, although with my lack of German language skills we will never know.

O

Behind the statue was a huge building nearly three times the size of my school. There

were pillars every few feet and a grand entrance and everything. There were two

banners hanging down on either side of the great glass doors. One said “Bibliothek.” I

knew my Spanish would come into play one day. Bibloiothek was close enough to

biblioteca and that meant “Store of books.”

“This is their library?” I gawked.

“This building is prettier than any building in Washington D.C. Clearly, we

Americans are lacking in architecture.” Nicole started muttering to herself about the

columns and stonework. I just couldn’t stop thinking about the books.

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“I need to touch all of the books. I want to go run up and down the aisles. There

has to be millions of them in there!” I could hardly contain my excitement and was

tottering back and forth on my feet doing a preteen version of “the potty dance.”

“What are you six?”

“Twelve and a half thank you very much. Come on, don’t you want to smell that

“Old book smell” or crack open a book and feel the crackle in each page?”

“No, I do not. I would much rather go shopping or see a cathedral, something

important. There are a thousand other places to go visit. But since you’re the special

one with your dumb assignments, we are at a library.”

“Easy tiger,” laughed Mom. “We are going to alternate between

sightseeing…Bea’s just first on the list today. We can hit the stores after lunch. I

promise.” Nicole rolled her eyes and then glared at me with her laser vision.

“Nicole. I have to go in. This is the library of all libraries. I mean, look at it!”

“Alright, ladies, here we go,” said Mom as we walked towards the beautiful

building.

* * *

I about died with happiness on the spot. When you’re a bookworm, there is just

something magical that happens the second you walk into a library you’ve never seen

before. Something washes over you, like the feeling you get when you walk into your

house for the first time in a while. We walked up to the statue in the middle of the

plaza, and I didn’t even come up to one fourth of the height of the statue, even after

standing on the tallest step that surrounded it. Everything here just seemed to be built

for giants! I bet Roald Dahl’s BFG would be quite comfortable living in this library. The

library also turned out to be a museum as well, so once Mom paid for all of us to receive

a tour I finally walked through the beautiful glass doors.

When you walk through the library in Morton, Illinois, your eyes aren’t drawn

anywhere in particular. It’s a pretty plain building with lots of grey and brown drab

walls. The carpet looks like it came from an old office building from the sixties and the

dark building itself does not seem very welcoming. The ugliness continues as

you walk through a metal detector for the library book thieves and only stops when you

reach the shelves and see all of the different books lined up in order. By now, I figured

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that the inside of this particular library would be brilliant, but it looked so much like

the library from the Harry Potter movies, just with more light.

There were so many things everywhere that I didn’t even know where to look, or

what I was looking at. The walls, the ceiling and even the floor were beautiful with

swirls of brown and cream marble placed delicately into the ground. The bookshelves

were floor to ceiling built from a deep dark wood and shown from the lights placed in

the perfect spot above them. Gold designs could be seen from every direction on the

top of the bookshelves and all along the ceiling. As much as this place was a library, it

could have been sold as an art museum as well. The ceiling reminded me of the ceiling

Da Vinci panted, filled with angels and clouds. Mom told me that when the ceiling was

painted like this it is called a “fresco.”

Although you could tell it was a library, the books seemed different. When you

go into a library back home, every book looks different. The color pops off of the

bindings and allows you to pick out the book that seems the most interesting.

However, the books that were lucky enough to be put into such a gorgeous building

were all bound the exact same way. The light brown covers were written on in darker

brown ink all stacked in the right direction, much larger than a regular novel. The

similarities between every book must make it really hard to find a book anywhere in

this place, but it sure made it seem classier. I didn’t even want to touch any of the

books or put one out of order. It just looked far too pretty to mess up.

I found out rather quickly that I couldn’t have messed anything up even if I

wanted. As I went to go see if I recognized any of the books, a security guard came over

and muttered something in German to me as I was running my fingers along the

bindings.

“Uh, sorry. I no speak German. No understand,” because clearly speaking in

poor English was going to help us communicate. He just waved his arms at me and

pointed to the sign immediately to our left, which listed off a phrase in a bunch of

different languages, ending in the phrase “Do not touch.”

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“Don’t touch!” I gasped in shock. “But it’s a library! Books are meant to be read,

that is the whole point.” The German barrier was going to continue being a problem so

I just walked away and gave the man thumbs up. That was an international sign that

hopefully translated into “Sorry, dude, I won’t touch your books. I’m leaving now.”

Mom and Nicole were off in the Globe Museum staring at hundreds of ancient

globes from all over the world, but I was much more interested in getting the perfect

picture for my assignment from Dad. He said that I should just get a shot of the library,

but I was ready to handle bigger tasks and make up for the fact that I forgot my camera

yesterday. I wanted the most perfect picture.

Photojournalist Beatrix Bordeau was on the move. Gazing around the library

and looking at everything I could possibly see, I was waiting for the right moment to hit

me. Dad always said that you’d know when to take the picture because the shot will

jump right out at you.

“Ow! What the,” a sharp pain was shooting through my head as I apparently had

been so wrapped up in looking at my surroundings that I forgot to look directly in front

of me. I banged my head directly onto one of the library ladders.

I guess Dad was right, the best photos just jump out at you. I quickly looked

around for the scary Austrian security guard and as soon as I gave myself the all clear, I

scurried up the ladder as fast as possible to the second story of books and crawled over

the banister to the balcony. The view from higher up was even more spectacular than

from up close downstairs.

“This is it; this is the photo!” I was so excited I could barely get my camera out of

the case fast enough. I pulled the camera to my face, smashing my glasses tight to my

face, and stared through the lens to find the shot. I wanted to get everything in the

picture, from the beautiful ceiling all the way down to the statues and tile floor

downstairs. I couldn’t quite get the angle I wanted while standing where I was though,

so I crawled back over the railing and sat on it with my feet on the top bar of the ladder.

This was much better. I snapped the picture and felt the ladder move underneath me.

“Ohhhh boy.” I whispered to myself. The ladder had come unhinged on one side

at the top.

“Not good, not good, not good.” I threw my camera into the bag and gently

tossed it onto the floor of the balcony. I swung my leg over the railing just in time to

watch the ladder come unattached on the other side and fall away from the balcony. In

slow motion just like the movies I jumped to grab it back but it was too late.

CRASH.

I cautiously peered over the balcony, sticking my head out just barely so I could

see what disaster had just exploded downstairs. The normal white noise of people

shuffling about and tour guides’ speeches all disappeared into complete silence. I saw

the scary Austrian security guard shaking his head, with a hundred other people all

staring up at me as well. And then I saw Mom and Nicole…

Mom gasped. “Beatrix Amelia Bordeau!”

Crap. I got the middle name.

I called down to them while waving my camera bag, “But I got the photo!”

Mom just hit her head to the palm of her head. Nicole tried walking away like

she had no idea who I was.

After security got me down from the balcony and Mom did her best to apologize

in the limited German she knew, Mom told us that it was time to go find something to

eat. I hadn’t even notice that my stomach was growling until she said something. I

usually never waited this long to eat. I guess when there are more important things in

front of you, like a million old books begging to be read, or damaging a ladder at a

national library, you lose track of the some of the essentials. I started to cry a little bit

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as Mom dragged Nicole and I out of the library. When was I going to stop being so

clumsy and stupid?

“Hey, it could’ve been worse. We could’ve been kicked out of the country.”

“Yes, Nicole, because being banned and kicked out of a National Library is a

better situation,” said Mom.

“Let’s just get some food and get back to the hotel. I’ve had enough adventure

for one day and so have you girls.”

Mom walked us back to the hotel so we could drop off our bags and cameras and

then we walked back into town to find a restaurant. It was so pretty outside that we

looked until we found a restaurant that had a pretty little outside seating area and went

inside to order lunch. This time I was avoiding the chocolate. I ate enough chocolate

the other day to last me a few years. Even though the restaurant looked really cute on

the outside, it was rather complicated on the inside. Mom only knew a few phrases in

German and Nicole and I were completely useless unless you needed to know what the

German word for “bathroom” meant, so naturally this meant that we pointed at items

on the menu and hoped that they would bring out something edible. Mom and Nicole

were trying to find any sort of food that sounded similar to something American, but

my strategy was to try and find the funniest word. It had to be something delicious

right? Austria was known for its delicious desserts; the meals couldn’t be that bad. I

pointed to the word “Palatschinken.” You couldn’t go wrong with a food that has the

word “schinken” in it right? I knew I was right the second the waiter brought it out to

me. It looked exactly like a rolled up pancake with powdered sugar and cocoa powder

sprinkled on top with freshly cut strawberries oozing out of the sides.

“Oh, it is just like a crepe,” Mom said.

“Is it a pancake?” I asked.

“Basically, just a thin one, you should love it. It’s got strawberries in it, it looks

like.”

I took one bite and was in Heaven. If anything was going to fix this afternoon, it

was going to be something with chocolate.

* * *

Later during the week, I had been really thinking about Dad and everything that

had happened in the past few weeks. Even with Dad sending me these random notes

throughout our time traveling, I was having doubts. Was that normal? I mean, he was

the one that left us.

“Do you ever wonder what Dad was thinking, Nicole?”

Nicole and I were sitting on the balcony of our bedroom in the hotel after a long

day touring through the old historic part of Vienna and shopping. It was such a

beautiful night out and even with the city alive with noise; you were able to see the

stars outside, something that was rare back home.

“What do you mean, Bea?”

“You know, when he left us. What do you think he meant by it?”

“Meant by it? I don’t think he meant anything by it besides the fact that he

doesn’t like us anymore.” Nicole was playing around with the laces on her shoes and

staring out into space. The Austrian world seemed to go on forever. There were people

everywhere still even this late at night.

“Didn’t like us? He has to like us, we’re his kids.”

“I don’t think it’s an obligation…it’s just a suggestion for some parents. Why do

you think he left? It seems fairly reasonable to that he didn’t like us, seeing as how he’s

living with a new woman and has a new kid.”

“I guess you’re right. If he cared, he would’ve stayed.” I hadn’t ever wanted to

admit that he liked his job more than us. But Nicole had a point. Why wouldn’t he

have tried to make things better with Mom? He didn’t even give us a chance before

running off to Australia.

“Don’t think too much about it Bea, you’ll just get angrier. I’m tired of being

angry at him. It won’t make him move back. He had that new job opportunity for that

fancy newspaper in Australia. He was never going to turn that down.”

Nicole got up from her chair and walked back into the room and shut the sliding

glass door a bit harder than necessary. I stayed outside and continued to stare up at the

sky. Maybe someday our family will be put back together again and everything just

seems worse right now, like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad

Day. Didn’t Mom say something about him having a “mid-life crisis” or something

anyway? I bet it could be okay. I wished it would be okay, but I don’t know if God grants

wishes, or just prayers. Lately, He hasn’t seemed to be answering anything.

“Hey Bea, honey, you alright?” Mom said as she joined me on the patio, “you

need to be going to bed soon. I know this isn’t exactly a normal month for any of us,

but you still have a bedtime regardless of what country we are in.”

I tried to sniffle everything back in, but the second I get even a little bit

emotional, it’s like all hell breaks loose in my nose and eyeballs, making Alice in

Wonderland’s little crying scene look calm. I hated crying. I really did, especially over

Dad. But traveling lately with just Mom around was really weird and I missed having

him around.

“I miss Dad, Mom. I do. No matter how mad I am at him, I can’t stop missing

him.” I crawled into her lap as she sat down in the chair next to me and let her play

with my hair and wipe the waterfalls away from my eyes.

“I know honey. I know you do. You know what? Mom misses him too, but I

can’t do anything about it, Bea. I tried. I really did, but when your Dad sets his mind to

something it is really hard to get him to change it. He wanted to leave, so he did.”

“But why did he leave? You never even seemed like you were mad at each other

and then he just left!” I was mad now, not just sad. I wanted to understand everything.

But I knew I wasn’t going to. Adults don’t tell kids anything. They just tell us enough

to make us shut up and move on to the next subject.

“He wasn’t happy. That’s all I can tell you. Everything else you don’t need to

worry about, that is for Mom and Dad to deal with. I want you to know that we both

love you very much though and none of it was your fault. Your dad and I just weren’t

getting a long anymore, that’s all.”

“I fight with Holly and she doesn’t just leave me. We always talk to each other

the next day and hug each other until we aren’t mad anymore. Did you try that with

Dad? It could’ve worked.” I know I was sounded ridiculous, but I couldn’t help myself.

“A hug can’t solve everything Bea. Some things yes, but this situation with dad

is just too difficult to be patched up by a hug. I never wanted this to happen and I never

expected to divorce your Dad. We loved each other so much. But people change and

lives change, and sometimes God has to allow bad things to happen in order to make

room for good things to happen. You’ll see, everything will be okay in awhile. We just

have to give it some time. Now, let’s get some sleep, okay? I promise things always

look better in the morning and maybe we can find a way to visit dad before we go back

home huh?”

“I don’t want to see him in Australia. I want to see him at home. In Morton. In

our house. I didn’t want things to change and now you’ve dragged us halfway across the

world on this stupid adventure, while Dad is off having an adventure of his own with his

new stupid job and everything is wrong and broken and I just want to go home.”

I wiped my eyes off and got off of mom’s lap. I knew it wasn’t her fault Dad had

fallen out of love with us and in love with his job, but I was just so angry. I hated that

things had changed before I was ready. I slammed the door behind me and crawled

under the covers and pulled them tight over my face so no one would bother me for the

rest of the night.

I woke up halfway through the night and could’ve sworn I heard either Mom or

Nicole crying. It was Mom. There aren’t many things worse than seeing your parents

cry. Mom had really kept herself together like glue ever since that night they told us

they were getting a divorce. I guess that’s what parents learn to do in parent school. If

they go crazy, who’s supposed to take care of us kids? I guess she really did miss dad

like we did. I decided that I was going to do my best to love Mom as much as possible

from now on. She was the only parent we really had around now.

Chapter 6

The Day I Found Out That Weiner Prater Isn’t a Hot Dog Stand (or a Circus)

ur week was almost up in the beautiful city of Vienna, and it was hard to believe

we were halfway through our month of vacation. There was still one crucial

problem though, besides Nicole constantly chewing with her mouth open. I had no idea

where this cool hot dog wiener place was. I would look every time we went out for a

restaurant or a stand selling hot dogs. No Weiner Prater anywhere. My frustration

grew to the point where I was desperate to get in touch with Dad. We were leaving

Austria in less than forty-eight hours; I couldn’t leave the country without getting this

next photo for Dad. Mom let me go downstairs and use the Internet in the computer

room of the hotel so I could Facebook Dad for some help. She said she would help, but I

knew she was busy with her last meeting with the company she was working with here.

This afternoon she was going to help with one of their marketing events in the city and

we were being forced to go along. After my little adventure in the library, Mom wasn’t

letting me out of her sight for more than a few minutes.

The computers were all empty so I swiped our hotel key card through the

scanner on the door and pushed on inside. I followed the instructions next to the

screen and logged on. I got onto Facebook right away; unfortunately, I couldn’t spend

hours down here scrolling through my newsfeed. Mom said she would send that

Austrian security guard from the library after me if I wasn’t upstairs in fifteen minutes.

O

Regardless of whatever the time difference was from Austria to Australia, Dad was

somehow magically logged in too.

“Hez, Dad,” I typed. “Hez, sorrz. Z. zz” What in the world? I thought, until I

looked down.

“Ah, of course the y and z keys are switched. Perfect.”

“Hey Dad, sorry. This keyboard is all weird.”

“You’re okay, Squirt, it’s probably in German. How are you? I love you.”

“I love you too. I need help, though.”

“What’s wrong? Are Nicole and your mother okay?”

“Yea, Dad. They’re fine. I just need help with my assignment. Where is Weiner

Prater? I can’t find the restaurant anywhere.”

“Haha, Bea you’re thinking too literal. It isn’t a place that sells wieners.” I could

feel myself getting more frustrated.

“Then what is it?!?” I typed out, slamming down on the keyboard.

“Have you been down to the middle of the city yet?” he responded.

“Not yet, we are today though with Mom.”

“Good, you’ll figure it out. I know you can. Just keep your eyes open and to the

skies. I sure do love you, kiddo.”

And he was gone. Since when did Dad decide he was the next Sherlock Holmes?

I didn’t want to solve a mystery. I just really wanted to get this next shot, but my time

was almost up. As much as I wanted to ask Dad more questions, I really preferred not

to be chased by that scary security guard. I logged off the computer and bounded up

the stairs to our room.

A few hours later Mom, Nicole and I were walking through downtown Vienna

looking for the woman she had been working with all week. They were supposed to

meet at this coffee shop, Kleines, and then walk to the event together. Julia eventually

showed up and after she offered to buy us some coffee or sweets, I was happily

munching on a chocolate pastry as we walked down the street. Suddenly, we passed a

bright poster on the side of a bus stop post. It was bright yellow and had a terrifying

huge clown on it; all it said was “Weiner Prater.”

“MOM.” I shrieked. Mom threw her hand over her chest and gasped.

“What?!” she shrieked turning away from me.

“Bea you can’t just scream in the middle of the street. What did Mom and Dad

teach us when we were little? Only scream if you’re being chased by a bear or

something,” said Nicole. Mom rolled her eyes at Nicole.

“Glad to see our life lessons are sticking with you Nicole,” she said.

“Anytime, Mom,” as she continued to sip on her Vanilla Frappe.

“Guys, stop. It’s Weiner Prater! It’s not a hot dog place. Dad was right, it is a

circus!” I was jumping from foot to foot, too excited to care that people right outside

the store we were next. Julia chuckled to herself.

“It isn’t a circus either Miss Beatrix, but I’ve got good news for you. That’s

where we are headed for the event today. I thought your Mom knew about it. I’m sorry,

Jean, that’s another reason why I suggested you bring the girls along. Weiner Prater is

our theme park here in Vienna,” Julia said.

Nicole and I’s eyes bugged out of our heads.

“Yessssssssssss!” We cried as we threw our hands in the air. Amusement parks

were the greatest things ever invented. Nicole and I would spend hours at Six Flags in

Chicago, Illinois going on the Batman ride over and over again whenever we went.

“Well let’s go then, girls,” said Mom. She clutched me to her side and kissed the

top of my head.

“I knew you were going to figure it out eventually, Miss Photojournalist. It’s a

good thing you came prepared with your camera!”

I was starting to figure this photojournalist stuff out, I thought.

* * *

The Weiner Prater amusement park was absolutely huge. Julia said it was the

oldest amusement park in the whole world. Nicole and I didn’t know where to start

first. Mom and Julia were supposed to be near the food court of the amusement park

with a table set up for advertisement.

“If you swear to me that I will not be getting paged by another security guard

within the next hour, I will let you and Nicole go walk around and ride some of the

rides. Promise me?”

I nodded my head like a maniac and stuck out my pinky to pinky promise.

“Alright then,” as she took my pinky in her own. “Here is my watch, be back at

this spot in one hour on the dot. Don’t pass go, don’t collect two hundred dollars.

Come right back here.” Julia handed both of us ten tickets each, which she had gotten

for us free with her connections to the park.

“Have fun girls!” and off we went.

I immediately knew why Dad had said “look to the skies” now, because the

easiest thing to spot in the whole park was a giant ride of swings. The tower the swings

were attached to, had to be taller than anything I’d ever seen before. I knew I wanted it

to be my last shot, but we both decided we wanted to go on the swings last. It was the

tallest ride, so we figured it would be the most fun. Off we went scouring the park for

the best rides we could find; with only ten tickets there was a desperate need to ration

them out. I thought that the segues looked like a lot of fun, but Nicole said segues

didn’t count as an amusement park ride and that we should find a fast ride.

We couldn’t read any of the maps that were scattered around the park, so we just

walked until we found something that looked fun. Nicole was the first one to spot this

baby. A rollercoaster with corkscrews, a really big drop and named Boomerang?

Sounded great to me.

I felt a little sick after going on this ride, especially after devouring that

chocolate pastry only a while ago. Even though Nicole and I both loved fast roller

coasters, Nicole was willing to go on whatever ride I wanted to go on next. There were

a lot of haunted houses at the park, with terrifying creatures towering above the

entrances. But I didn’t exactly get sad by walking past the terrifying rides. Instead I

thought the real-life carousel would be a lot more fun. I never had seen one before.

The horses were just beautiful! I wished they didn’t just walk in the same circle all day

though. That was probably a lousy job. But it was really cool to be able to ride a horse

in the middle of a theme park.

After a few more rides we were officially down to our last two tickets.

“It’s time for the swings!” We both said together. Normally, I am not scared of

heights. Beatrix Bordeau will go wherever, whenever. But that was before I got on this

ride. Beatrix Bordeau is now officially terrified of heights. It doesn’t seem that tall

from the ground, plus when you actually get seated, your feet are touching the ground

and you aren’t moving at all. Once the music started playing though, we rose higher

and higher, the whole time we were climbing the tower, we were also spinning. About

halfway up the tower, I was petrified. Although, I don’t scream when I get scared,

Nicole does. I grab onto whatever is possible for me to grab on to and stay as silent as

possible. If I’m able to hold my breath, I will do that too. I’m pretty sure it’s

scientifically proven that if you scream on a ride you are causing yourself to move

more, and that is a likely way to get yourself killed.

After what seemed like at least 94 hours on top of the death tower, as I now refer

to it, my feet were safely back on the ground.

“Land, solid land!” I cried as I stretched myself out onto the disgusting, germ-

absorbed, wonderful and solid concrete.

“Oh Lord. You’re such a drama queen. It could’ve been worse; you could’ve died

on the ride.” Such a charmer. How she didn’t have a boyfriend already was beyond me.

“Now, let’s go. We have ten minutes to walk back to Mom before she sics the

entire Austrian army after us.” Nicole turned and started walking back the way we had

originally came.

“Wait, Nicole, I need my last photo!” I reached into my camera bag and pulled

out my camera, wanting to find the perfect view for the shot.

“Use your brain you goon. I can’t believe you took that on the ride. What if it

had fallen off of you? What if it had hit someone?”

“It was fine. Dad always says photojournalists have to take risks!” I stepped

backwards and looked through the lens.

“Perfect.”