Last time I was abroad with my mother was before I was a teenager.
At a toilet stop on a day trip, she snatched my bag off me with my money, bus tickets and passport in it, slapped me in the mouth, said she wished I was dead, and ordered the rest of the family back on the bus without me.
Luckily it was a town, albeit a small one, and I managed to locate the French consulate (inadequate Spanish on account of being only eleven), explain haltingly what had happened, and plead for the bus fare back to the resort. I will remain eternally grateful for the sad faced guy with the flawless English who reached into his wallet for the change, gave me a tourist map and explained the way back to the resort, because by god was I stuck.
Returned to the apartment in darkness, knocked on the door, dad let me in and shrugged and said “I expected you would figure out how to get back.” You arse, you let the crazy woman leave me an hour away in a foreign country with no money or documents or tickets and you just went along with it??
There is no way on earth I will ever leave the country with either of that pair again, let alone with my beloved children on the trip. God knows what might happen.