a new day

It's incredible what a good, no, great night's sleep will do to you! Snowdrop woke up refreshed and ready for anything. I woke up relieved and relaxed. Must be the sea air!

As predicted, it is drizzly out there. We could not care less! Everything is grand.

Including breakfast. A buffet with nothing but good choices. Snowdrop loves the madelines...

 

... and the eggs, the croissant, the potato pancakes, the oranges, the hot chocolate. All of it. 

I'm happy with my fruits, yogurts, pain au chocolat, cappuccino. (She stole my eggs -- I would have been happy with those as well.)

In the moments of waiting in between one thing and the next, the girl makes videos on my phone. Titled photo montages of our dogs, put to music. In searching for appropriate songs for each pup, she says with surprise -- gaga, did you know there's a song called Sexy Sadie? Don't I know it! A Beatles classic from 1968. I thought of it the minute I first learned Sadey's name. Of course I avoided that descriptor like anything! Not something you want to flaunt with the grandkids, especially the young ones. I could see Sandpiper telling his classmates that his grandmother had a sexy sadie at her house.

Still, as you listen to the words now, and look at Sadey's poor guilt ridden face, you have to feel a tinge of wistful sadness. This dog who, at a young age, has carried litters of puppies, born not out of love but of a male dog's sex drive, then proceeds to mess up her life, out of a need to protect herself and the life that suddenly became so good... Here, remind yourself of the words...

Sexy Sadie, what have you done?
You made a fool of everyone
You made a fool of everyone
Sexy Sadie, what have you done?

Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules
You laid it down for all to see
You laid it down for all to see
Sexy Sadie, you broke the rules

...

Just a smile would lighten everything
Sexy Sadie, you're the latest of them all

We gave her everything we owned just to sit at her table
Just a smile would lighten everything
Sexy Sadie, she's the latest and the greatest of them all

 

 

In our room again, we go through the possibilities for the day. Snowdrop doesn't mind the rain. She'd like to start with the market. It's a 20 minute stroll from our hotel along this most lovely seaside promenade.

 

 

Nice's market is compact and wonderful. In the summer it draws crowds of tourists -- never a good thing for vendors who prefer locals who actually will buy a kilo of produce rather than a few pieces of fruit to snack on. Now, on a rainy Sunday, you do in fact see more buyers than just window shoppers like us.  What I loved? The produce of course. Fruits, in season now in southern France, Spain and Italy. Flowers. And veggies -- local carrots that make your eyes blaze and everywhere that Nicois specialty -- the zucchini flower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 (oranges and lemons from Menton -- up the coast about 30 miles from Nice)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We actually do buy something -- nougat candies, which she loves, and a basket of strawberries. French. And so very tasty (she ate every last one in the hotel room).

 

 

Since we are so close to the old port, I suggest we walk there to take a look.

 

(past this sign...)

 

 

 

 

(the old port)

 

 

 

 

(only mildly interested in the port -- she prefers the sweeping coastal views; Nice chairs remind me of UW Memorial Union chairs)

 

(she never passes up a merry-go-round ride)

 

(what's blooming in Nice...)

 

 

 

 

And now Snowdrop is ready for her ice cream -- her favorite, found in Paris, but now also in Chicago. We saw the shop yesterday and think we remember where it is. Turns out we're wrong. Google directs us to its old location (now closed), so we are wrong again. Finally, after going around in wet circles, we track it down. What a total delight for her, to eat this for lunch! (I settle for a coffee and and an ice cream macaron...)

 

 

We're kind of in a hurry now. It's 1:15 and I promised her that this bad weather day gives us a perfect opportunity to try out the hotel pool. It's not much of one -- more like an oversized bathtub -- and they limit kid access to morning hours and then from noon to 2. We sprint and make it in time for her to get a good half hour in.

 

 

Walking, sprinting, swimming (her, not me!) -- we're ready for some downtime. She FaceTimes with her friend, I read and write.  But by late afternoon, I feel we should eat something that some might call lunch. True, we had a big breakfast. Brunch-like in quality and quantity. Still, it was seven hours ago. I propose crepes. It seems filling enough to tide us for a couple of hours, yet not so filling that we could not eat a full dinner at 7.

 

I find L'Oiseau -- just 6 minutes from us. A small creperie, run by Corsicans, with Corsican products. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's an important element in Nicois culture. Corsica is an 8 hour ferry ride from Nice (350 kms south-east) and some would say that it properly should be Italian since the island is only 8 miles by water (less than an hour by ferry) from the coast of Sardinia -- a fully Italian territory. But in fact, Corsicans (or Corses in French) have traveled in great numbers to France and especially to Nice over hundreds of years, so their presence here is notable, even as the island itself bears the influence of Italy and the Corsican culture reflects the Italian rather than French temperament and preferences (pizza and gelato everywhere!). Nice has picked up some of that, though here it's hard to say from which side the Italian influence has seeped in, since the Italian border is only 20 miles away by car or train. 

 

(Nutella for her, apple and cinnamon for me. I know, I know -- all sweet. We're on vacation!)

 

 

I'm actually surprised how few tourists we see. Maybe it's the weather and they're all hiding. But even in eateries, we hear French almost exclusively. 

 

 

 

We then walk over to the Russian Orthodox St. Nicholas Cathedral -- the one I wrote about yesterday. Yes, the one that is legally Russian, on Russian territory, a fact that does give you pause. But in fact, the Russian community here remains sizable. We pass a Russian grocery store. We hear Russian as we approach the church. And we are going for its historic and artistic value. I last visited Russia when it was completely under Putin's thumb. St Petersburg was not his though, and neither is this cathedral.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(she meets and greets a cat, while the Russian men engage in an animated conversation, none of which I could hear -- maybe fortunately)

 

A very brief rest follows, and then for the third time today, we set out -- to eat dinner at Chez Davia. The upside? Undoubtedly its food. We start off with beans in a light tempura for her and young artichokes in a clam broth for me (though she snatched one of mine). Finished in a matter of minutes!

 

 

I suggested sole meuniere for her second course -- a pricey dish usually, but almost reasonable here. I settled for the omelette with wild asparagus. Both incredibly good (though she said that in general, she preferred sea bass, which is a heck of a lot less expensive and a more common choice here).

 

The downside? I suppose the restaurant's popularity: one of those places that is packed and everyone sits intimately close to everyone else. 

 

We skipped dessert there. She picked up an ice cream cone on the way home. I have plenty of hotel chocolates to keep me happy!

 

 

Such s full and wonderful day! Such a fun and wonderful travel companion!

 

with so much love... 

 

 

the trip

So where to on this trip? My enthusiastic travel companion Snowdrop voted for Nice (I had stipulated that it had to be in the southern half of the continent).

It's a good choice for us. There is enough in the city to keep things interesting, but because of the sea, and the hills plunging to it, there is a feeling of openness and of nature. Museums and hikes, all in one place. With lots of seafood to please the pescatarian among us. 

Nice had once been a real favorite destination for me. Until it wasn't. What changed? Well, I I had liked it enough to bring Ed to it, and though he wasn't saying it with words, I knew he was just "tagging along" rather than diving into it with anything resembling spirit or enthusiasm. And when I returned alone, years later, I was discouraged rather than enthralled -- this isn't a place for a solo trip anymore. I felt lonely. The city suddenly just seemed like a set of blocks, ones that had held magic before, but held nothing of the sort now. Funny how much a place is grand for you if you see it at the right time and under favorable circumstances. I thought I'd never come back. 

But along comes my younger traveling companion, with her sparkle and enthusiasm and I'm happy as anything to be returning to Nice once again.

The flights? The first one, to Detroit, is a charm. No TSA lines, no delays. Next, to Paris: good winds, timely arrival. Long walk to the next terminal, but we dont mind. Snowdrop tells me it already feels very French. And no lines at passport control! (If you are traveling to France after April 9th -- the day of the great passport control transformation, watch out!)

A pause for breakfast...

And onto our short flight to Nice. Delayed, but who cares -- it's our last one for the day.

Snowdrop benefits greatly from the fact that I am in my last years of travel. I'm making these trips as comfortable for me as possible. I'm old! She gets the spillover effect. It took ten years to climb my way up in the Air France hierarchy and the irony is that now that I'm here, I have it for life, even as most of the travel is behind me. I think the marketing team got that one right!

She gets the spillover effect in terms of hotels as well. I am almost certain that this is my last trip to Nice. In the past, I always stayed at the small hotels on side streets, in rooms with thin walls and varying degrees of warmth in the winter and coolness on a hot summer day. I always wanted to try one of the grand dames along the Promenade des Anglais -- hotels that have been around for years. The Negresco, my choice for this trip, was opened for business in 1913 (the Romanian behind the establishment named it after himself -- he was Henri Negrescu).  It's twice the size of my little Baume in Paris, but that still means it's not one of those huge establishments where you feel completely lost. It is ornate -- something that I find historically interesting and Snowdrop finds beautiful. 

You have to know a bit about Nice at the turn of the century (19th to 20th) to understand the city's significance to the travel industry. In 1864, rail service linking Nice with Russia created an opportunity for the nobility of that country to come to Nice -- for the weather, for the beauty of the place. Tsar Nicholas was the first royal to do this trip. He started a trend. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the Russian community here was quite large. Tsar Nicholas II funded the construction of a Russian Orthodox church here (it's on our list of "things to visit"), which was completed in 1912. You know what happened next! In 1917, the Communists seized control of Russia, tsars became a thing of the past. The question remained -- whose was this church anyway? Here's a surprise -- after years of battling it through the legal system, the French court ruled in 2010 that the church properly belonged to the Russian Federation. A slice of land in Nice, belonging to the Russians. Hmmm....

Nice itself has a complicated history, way too bouncy to explain here. But you have to remember that it wasn't always linked to France. At times it was a part of the Dominion of Savoy, in other years -- part of what was to be called Italy. Nice was a strategic port -- everyone wanted a slice of the pie here. It finally was annexed to France in 1860.

And it wasn't only the Russian nobility who vacationed here. The English royalty has been coming over for a lengthy refresh for a long time. No wonder that they named the seaside boulevard La Promenade des Anglais. 

So, lots of wealthy northerners coming here to Nice for long periods of time in the sun. It's funny that on past visits, I nearly always had period of rain. My bad luck I suppose. On this trip, too, it's cloudy now and we expect rain -- tomorrow. But not thereafter! 

 (from hotel room, she looks out at the sea and spins stories about sailors)

 

 

(the even better view is toward the center of the city...) 

 

 

(someone spotted the chocolate lollipops!)

 

Today is a day of taking it all in, just at the edges. We're tired, it's late. But a short walk is certainly needed! She tugs me toward the beach.

Such small things bring her such great pleasure. Catching waves with her toes, throwing fistfuls of pebbles into the water... 

But, Snowdrop is also very hungry. She had a few mini croissants at the Paris airport, nothing more. It's nearing five when we reach the more commercial streets of Nice. And the Square -- Place Massena, in Nice's colors of orange, gold and sage green.

We stroll peering into bakeries, cafes, food shops. She settles on Mama Roma. Slices of pizza reheated in the oven. True, dinner is in two hours, but I can't have her continue on so little food. She must have been starving because she deemed the pizza "really really good!" I had a coffee with the cannoli. Too sweet, but then, aren't most cannoli too sweet? 

We walk along this busy street and admire the dogs out for an evening stroll with their Nicois. So many doodles here too! 

 

 

 

Well, so many dogs, period. Or, is it that we are both so focused on dogs...

(there's one underneath his chair)

She wants to stop at Petit Bateau -- a clothing store of choice for getting something special for those occasions that call for clothing that go beyond her ratty (according to us) oversized t-shirts. Weird to be shopping for the kids this early in our trip, but on the other hand, it's easier here than in Paris, where the walks from store to hotel are longer and panic sets in as the departure date draws near and I still haven't figured out who'd like what.

We spend a very pleasant hour here. Yes, hour. For a kid that doesn't especially like wearing most clothes grownups choose for her, she sure loves admiring them in this store.  Three hours into being in Nice and our shopping for the kids is done!

 

(walking home at sunset: no Daylight Savings Time here yet!) 

 

Dinner is at the hotel's brasserie (called La Rotonde, because, well, the room is round).  The food is good, and importantly -- requires no effort. We keep it simple: she orders the sea bass, I order the scallops with a salad. And ever the hopeful one in the nonalcoholic wine department, I order a glass of their white NA wine, which of course is terribly disappointing. Stick with the NA beer next time. 

 

 

There are chocolates in our room -- the perfect dessert, though perhaps tonight they disappeared too quickly. We are both so tired, but tired is different than sleepy. I plod on with my stuff, she reads or listens or watches something from her supply of travel material. 

Such a good first day! I wish we would not be starting our explorations in the rain tomorrow, though maybe its good to get the wetness out of the way? We'll set the agenda tomorrow. In the meantime, bonne nuit from Nice!

with so much love... 

 

Spring Break

By the time I write this (meaning after 9:46 a.m.), spring will have sprung. Always my favorite season. Despite the emergent ticks, despite the storms that pass through, despite the mud, the rain, the lateness of the growing season, despite it all, spring remains my special girl.  I love her colors, I love the changes that happen all in the course of three months. Spring moves things forward. You can see why that would appeal to me!

This afternoon marks the beginning of Spring Break for the kids, and the plan is for the parents to drive Snowdrop straight from school to the airport, where I will meet up with her and she and I will make our way to France. Her choice, and I'm glad. She and I have done a lot of exploring -- southern Europe and northern too. I am so in the mood for staying with the known (at least known to me) and not filling our week with curiosities and question marks. 

The morning would be busy for most people needing to pack, to prepare, but I've decided to take things slowly -- to keep Sadey in a good mood. And she is that. We walk, she barks only a couple of times, she eats, I eat. 

 

  

 

I've prepacked her food, her bag of toys (how she loves those toys!) so that she doesn't see me doing this weird stuff. My pillow girl! 

 

 

 

Switching to my own favorite couch, once I sit down there. 

 

 

 

Well you might ask -- but what's happening to Sadey? Well, for the next week or so she is going to camp. She has over-nighted there once already. I'm hoping she wont remember that that time she was with Henry. Now she is alone. Though with plenty of dogs around her!

She is easier to bring inside. She doesn't have Henry's stubborn sit-down-and-wont-budge approach. Trusting girl... Oh, I hope she has a good week there!

And what in the long run? Well, I had a great plan for her, but those involved did not agree to it, rejecting her outright for reasons that I definitely find objectionable. I have an alternate plan which will require some more talking and figuring out, but of course, if that too falls through, she remains with me and I will gather my energies to work through her issues on my own. There's a good chance of success after all. No guarantees, but a chance. True, I'd rather not take this on, but on the other hand, I know my girl well and perhaps I can work up the courage and strength once again. We will see.

In the meantime, I'm off. Madison to Detroit, Detroit to France. Ed will drive me and mind Sally's House. It's good weather for flying. Of course it is. It's spring!

with so much love... 

strengths

Normally I am not known to be good at waiting. "Sit on it," "mull things over," "wait until they get back to you" -- these approaches make my skin crawl. I move quickly through space, and move quickly to weigh pros and cons, and move quickly to grab a good position in line. I can't wait for a wait to be over. My kids tease me that I do not even like to wait at stop lights. When I used to walk to work, I'd run to make the light. That, rather than waiting for it to go through its cycle. 

And yet, waiting to see what falls into place for Sadey isn't especially hard. Maybe it's because I love our time together as the day begins and ends. Or because I don't have a weekend with her before me (I'm leaving tomorrow). I'm not stressed about exercising her now that the dog park option is closed to us. Too, the weather is improving by the day, so morning walks, though longer than I would like, are rather pleasant. I makes sure to cross the street and keep people at a distance. So long as no one comes near us (so, no walks on popular paths, or on the bike trail, and not during the time kids walk to school here), we manage.

But is this really what caring for a pup should be about? Managing? Being grateful that a weekend isn't in the cards this week, so that I dont have to be anxious about spending more time outside with her? In terms of her well being a wait is not good. She needs to get better before she gets worse. That was the hard lesson I learned from Henry. But, we have no say in the matter. We wait.

Breakfast. Delightful.

Couch time -- so good!

And then she and I are off to doggie daycare. 

Again I talk to the director there. She has been working with dogs -- training, schooling, directing -- for nearly 30 years and she has quite the interesting reflections on how the dog-to-people world has changed, about the scams out there (including with some rescue organizations!), about how our needs for dog companionship have evolved. I told her about an article I read yesterday in the New Yorker -- it's about the proliferation of doodles out there (by John Seabrook, if you're interested in looking it up), but the author also dives deeply into these very issues of dog ownership in general and how our shifting needs and values translate into the creation of this kind of a dog -- not belonging to any one breed, but a mix of those that help us introduce these pups to our homes as full-fledged family members (much to the chagrin of breeders of registered breeds who feel that their world has been upended, and that of the rescue organizations who believe no dog should be purchased, though considering my adoption fee for Sadey, I find that to be a curious position). There is a strong feeling among the professional dog care community that there is something fishy going on in Texas with all the rescues shipped all over the country: it's as if it's a thriving, profit making industry, producing pups that ostensibly are abandoned, but not really. For every good and noble actor out there, you will always find a shady character looking to make a buck. And judging by the swelling number of Houston dogs being distributed but really sold all over the country, suspicions abound.

 

I come home knowing full well that I have to take at least preliminary steps to get myself ready for travel, and yet I remain pokey. I have had zero time to process everything that has happened in the last few months. Or at least it feels that way. I need a moment to just chill. 

 

And then it's time to pick up the kids. Our routine is different today: I get Sparrow, then Snowdrop, we go to Hubbard's Diner. Pick anything. He chooses French Silk pie, she orders her favorite -- french fries.

And then to their home. I have to help Snowdrop pack. Left to her own devices, who knows what would end up in her suitcase. As it is, it's very much a hit and miss game. This girl's thoughts are so often up in the clouds. Bringing her down to earth is the work of an adult who understands dreamy kids who forget to check their backpacks for months on end.

 

I pick up Sadey. The tired girl. With lots of adult people talking about her. At some point you have to stop talking though, no? I would have stopped days ago, but that's just me. We're all different. Strengths and weaknesses. It may seem obvious to me. It may seem less obvious to the next person.

In the meantime, here's my happy girl, always deeply submerged in pillows! 

 

 

 

with so much love... 

 

many ways

The first thing that goes nuts when you are stressed is your sleep cycle. You wake up at night, think about all that's troubling you, come up with some ideas about how to proceed the next day, and then in the morning, you cannot for the life of you remember what they were. Ideas born from lack of sleep have no staying power.

I found in my e-mailbox today some advice (handed out to probably millions of seniors) on how to minimize health issues with each year as you shift from 70 to 75 to 80. As always, "eliminating stress" was high on the list of "things you must do." How is it that you eliminate stress? Are you supposed to shed stressors like you would for a dog that is feeling overanxious? Walk the other way? 

True, you could go the route of "I dont care, I'm going to do what feels right and ignore the pressure to do better." But I am reminded of the little poem a childhood friend wrote in my autograph book some 60 years ago -- "good, better, best, never let it rest, until you good is better and your better best." I guess we do always strive to rise above the easy path. I know I was never satisfied with letting things be.

 

Sadey woke up, as usual, being absolutely perfect and charming. Lick, wag, wait. Still not perfect in the leash department, still not quick to do her stuff, but she's trying! 

Mornings with Henry were always the best part of the day. This is true with Sadey as well. She is the sweetest girl then. Well, not to the people she sees on the streets, but once inside, she's all mellow sweetness.

Breakfast. 

Things are getting tight schedule wise. Trying to figure out Sadey's future takes time. Picking up kids takes time. Seems that everything just sucks the hours out of the day -- this, when I am leaving the day after tomorrow, on a trip that was planned... in July! Not sure how all of it will play out, but I'm working on it!

 

 

 

The kids are one foot into spring break already. It's always like that in March. An eagerness to have a week off after two months of work. They're both excited about forthcoming adventures: Sparrow is off to the west coast, Snowdrop is crossing the ocean. And Sandpiper? I find him at home, back from school early! 

He's excited about a trip too, but it doesn't come until late spring for him. And still he is just all smiles. 

 

 

 

The older two come to Sally's House with me. Ours is a slow pace. I could have been the kind of grandma who plans exciting projects and has everything set out for an afternoon of play. That's one path to a successful grandparenting situation. It's not my way. I'm bookish, so I introduce books left and right. There are toys, of course. Too many, Ed would say. But if they choose to play, it requires them to invent that play. I make few (any?) suggestions.

 

Towards evening, I take Sparrow to Taekwondo and Snowdrop and I go on to pick up Sadey. Snowdrop has learned not to shower her with hugs and kisses now. Sadey is stressed after daycare and the best you can do for her is to shower her with calmness.

 (a perfect moment, for both)

 

 

At home in the evening, I watch Sadey's inquisitive eyes and I wonder why I never noticed how unsure she still is. It's really no surprise that she barks at people coming toward her. She's unsure there as well. The less understandable is her lunge and nip at people in the park who weren't at all interested in approaching her. She approached them. It's really that which caused this flood of anxiety and stress on my part. She was a happy, well exercised dog then. She could have taken the day in any number of directions. Why did she choose that one?

I suppose it's like asking me "why did I opt to take on dog care." There isn't an explanation that would satisfy you. I did it because for me, it was the right thing to do. Sadey has her reasons too. We are able to sort through some of them, but not all. My beautiful girl of infinite mystery... Oh, Sadey!

with so much love...