Notes From the Road - Day 7

My in-laws live in what can only be described as a city within a city. Hundreds of buildings containing well over 8,000 housing units, all laid out in a sprawling chunk of land criss-crossed by canals and roads. Depending on who you talk to, the place easily swallows at least 15,000 residents - frightening given how many towns around London aren't anywhere near that figure.

Most folks use their cars to get around. Others use the pedestrian walkways and quieter side roads for their daily walks and jogs. My father-in-law hits the road every day on his bike.

The community even has its own mass transit system. Known affectionately as Lolly the Trolley - or, more simply, The Trolley - these blue bus-based vehicles loop through the community constantly, bringing folks to and from wherever they need to go. True Trolley experts know the times, the routes ("No, the 2 doesn't go there...but you can link up with the 4 if you're willing to wait for 7 minutes") and even the peculiarities of individual drivers.

Stylistically, these things actually look like Trolleys, right down to the arched windows and wood-inlaid interiors. Freaky, even for an adult.

So it was with a great degree of excitement that Zayda (grandfather...my father-in-law) led us all on a trek across the village in one of these magical vehicles. It was a gray day, and the swimming was so-so. So he looked at his watch and beckoned us outside for the grand ride.

The kids barely made it to the stop before the Trolley pulled up and we all climbed aboard.

The kids' heads swivelled in every imaginable direction as they tried to take in the rapidly-changing landscape around them. Zayda explained the sights as rapidly as he could, giving them - and us - a lesson in how different people of a different age in a different place try to lead their lives. Other passengers - mostly elderly given that this is a retirement community - smiled as they calculated the suddenly-reduced average ridership age in their heads.

After barely a half-hour, our coach looped back home, and the kids hopped off and waved goodbye to the driver. It was another seemingly little experience in a vacation that thus far seemed chock full of similarly small moments.

Small, however, does not mean insignificant. As I watched our kids listen to their Zayda, I got the feeling that this moment would stick in their heads for a very long time. It's just the kind of little experience that has an anything-but-little impact on a child's memory. They connected with him as only grandchildren can. I only wish we had a Trolley here at home so we could repeat the experience the next time Zayda visits us here.