Europe. A magical continent, full of countries, food, and adventures. That I've never been to, but want to visit.
A year ago, I asked my mom if we could go to Europe. After the wake-up call of her scoff, I re-designed my plan, and, eventually, its presentation. Here's what I said:
"If we were to go to Europe, we could backpack across multiple countries in a matter of two weeks! We could visit all the famous places we've ever seen, and bond as a family. You and I both want the time of our lives, and this could be it!"
So maybe I went overboard with the "time of our lives" deal, but it worked. After much negotiating, here's what we came up with: the summer after this one and the next one, we'll go backpacking in Europe for two weeks. We won't go on any vacations starting after fall break of next year, and we won't spend over ten grand. We won't tell dad until the summer before, so he doesn't have a fit.
That was last Christmas, when we decided. Since then, it's near all I can think about. Sometimes, I'll lie awake thinking about it. It's my dream, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost it.
How would I lose it? There's too many ways to count. Let's start with money. It could get too expensive. Then go to unexpected family problems: death, disease. Probably the biggest and most obvious? My dad. He could say no. It's not like he's a healthy young guy--he'll turn 57 in January, he has a pace-maker, and he still smokes. I try not to think about that, though.
We'd go on a train everywhere (I've never been on a train!), sleeping on the way. We'd see places like the Sherlock Museum and the Louvre, and go on things like the London Eye. It'd be the adventure of a lifetime!
Back to finance, though. For all of those places, it's at least $2200 per ticket. Per ticket. That's fair, considering. It's not desirable, though. There's four of us. Four. With a budget of 10 grand? I don't know how it'll work.
What I mentioned is just what I've researched and put into my Europe folder. That glorious little folder is what keeps me going. I simply don't know what I'll do if we're not able to go. It's my beacon of light on the dark sea of teen anguish.