You can guess the source of the arguments this time: who got the top bunk versus who was actually old enough to stay in the top bunk not to roll out in their sleep and splat themselves from the potential 8ft drop below. Third and last time (in that we are now stuck with this for at least two weeks because of a reservation 'oversight') is the two-room family option: one adult in each supervising either one or two children depending on which combination of the three is causing most problems, with clothes/toothbrushes and shared toothpaste/shampoo/soap shuttling back and forth across the communal patio depending on which room needs them most desperately. Unluckily for her, we are separated by one quiet, single, female traveller occupying the room in between ours.
Do any of these options work? Well, we are just four days into travelling and we are all knackered. Each time that sleep is required the kids suddenly decide that they are either not tired at all (having moaned about being tired all day) or all of them suddenly need the loo. And when they do eventually drop off, two of them sleep "shout", the littlest sometimes still has accidents, and one is a massive fidgeter (which wouldn't usually be a problem but it is when you are sleeping so close to them that they are practically in your bed or if their bed is tied to yours in the form of a bunk). Indeed, I really should be trying to nap now but instead I am writing this whilst it is fresh in my mind lest I forget the more challenging aspects of this travel adventure malarkey. Because in true authentic Bobomama style, this blog will provide the realist counterbalance to my edited highlight reel of beautiful instagram shots.
So how has the trip panned out so far? It has been an almost perfect mix of struggle and beauty. Our rubbish train journey to the airport was balanced by a serendipitous encounter on our flight to Athens: our neighbours from Cambridge sitting in the row in front of us. Unluckily for them, the prospect of a peaceful flight with just their quiet ten year old who keeps himself to himself (whose double-figure birthday and obsession with Ancient Greece was the catalyst for their trip) was ruined by our three lively, entertaining under-sevens kicking seats, crawling under seats, swopping seats, crying, singing loudly and arguing!
City Circus hostel in Athens was uber cool and had a terrace overlooking the Acropolis which looked amazing lit up at night. The hip mixture of guests included travellers who had brought their instruments with them and when we discovered the view they were having an impromptu, alfresco jamming session on fiddle, ukulele and mini accordian.