Moving a family of six from one country to another is not for the faint of heart.  There is, after all, quite a lot of junk involved.  I say this fully cognizant of the fact that some of the aforementioned junk was mine, and, therefore, precious.

Honestly, however, moving from one place to another does require the taking of some items.  Clothes to say the least and household items.  Blenders and blankets are useful things, and when moving to a foreign country it is important to have something familiar.  Even if it is only a kitchen mixer.

First, we looked into a shipping container.  However, after adding up the various bills involved, we decided it would be cheaper to buy wood, build a boat, hire a crew and sail down ourselves.

Not being of a nautical turn of mind, we discarded the plan.

So having eliminated the sea we were left with land or air, or a molecular disassembler which then sends the molecules zipping through the air to another molecular reassembler.  The latter option may have been the wisest course but, upon looking into it we discovered it hadn’t yet made the leap from Science Fiction to reality.

We were now down to land or air.

The route to Brazil was long and through multiple places where robbery was the default pastime.  We looked into the price of an armored truck and started military drills.  However, an army of a middle-aged couple and four girls was hardly likely to strike fear into the hearts of any would be robbers.

We had one choice left.  Air.

Since the price of suitcases was high we began to shop at thrift stores to find enough to move a family of six.

Our collection was broad and worthy of any art gallery.  It included a bright orange suitcase.  A delightful neon pink suitcase with a frog sticker.  My carry on was tweed and hard on the bottom and soft on the top.  I have never again seen such a suitcase.

Not being picky we also took suitcases other people offered.  One was a heavy monstrosity with no handle.  Not perhaps the best combination, but then we couldn’t afford to turn any away.

In this imaginary gallery would also stand a statue of my mother and oldest sister, who packed and repacked the suitcases in a valiant effort to get right to the weight limit and not an ounce more—or less.

In the end, there were twenty-four suitcase, six carry-ons, five purses that weighed enough to make Goliath fall over, a briefcase, and a partridge in a pear tree.

 

Have you ever made a long move?

Have you ever lived in a foreign country?