< ![CDATA[   It is hard to believe that we are already halfway down the Adriatic coast. The weather just keeps getting better and the roads have flattened out again. Today being Sunday, we took a day of rest and spent it idly by the sea. The beaches have turned from sandy to pebbles of every pastel shade, mixed liberally with tiny snail type shells... like little conch shells almost. There are thousands and thousands of them on this stretch of beach. The children spent the day surfing on a fast current down the last forty feet of a fresh water river that dumps into the sea. Tony alternately cackled at the book he's reading to himself and spent hours reading aloud to the children: they've just started the Princess Bride. I drew, wrote in my leather bound journal and read another book. I'm working through the Zane Grey books... nice stories. The day started late. I didn't sleep for a second night. Two nights ago we were in a youth hostel in Ancona and Ezra wet the bed... AGAIN. The only upside, from my perspective, is that he wasn't in his sleeping bag. Add to that Elisha's hacking cough (he has a cold) and there wasn't much possibility for rest. Last night there was no bed wetting, thankfully. Instead, Ezra, being over cautious, got up and unzipped all three zippers to the outside to get out and pee on a tree, only to unzip them all again to get back in. I counted five trips. Two of them might have been the other boys. Add to that the coughing again... and I had a wakeful night. I got to lie in this morning, reading my book until almost noon. I emerged to eat a late breakfast of tea and eggs before diving back into my cave. Had it not been for my exciting trip to the bathroom, I might have actually gone back to sleep. It all started around nine thirty, when I could no longer delay the trip across the pebbled road to the WC. TP in hand, I groggily shuffled over to the bath house. The further south we go, the fewer "western" style toilets we encounter and the more "squatties" become the norm. If you have not seen one of these, they are a porcelain hole in the ground with raised platforms on either side for your feet, on which you squat to do your business... hence the lovely and descriptive name. We're not quite used to these, but we make the best of it. At this particular campground they are all in one stall with the shower. Herein lies the problem. To a groggy, over tired Mama who has not slept in two nights having two identical buttons on the wall is somewhat confusing. Needless to say, the one I pushed did not flush. It showered. I found it somewhat shocking to be pulling up my pajama bottoms and have a torrent of luke warm water poured all over me as a wake up call. I yelped and struggled with the door (which of course opened inward, making me step back into the stream of water, which was on a timer and could not be shut off) before running, dripping to the tent.... laughing hysterically.]]>