Paris

When did it happen? This immersion in Paris, this feeling that I could call it "mine?" Travel favorites come and go. There was this place, then there was a switch to some other place. But Paris stayed. I've always woken up to its street sounds and felt happy. And so I keep coming back.

But bringing Snowdrop to Paris is a challenge exactly because it is also not her first, second or even third trip here. Does she remember any of those earlier travels? Do I repeat and reinforce what she has seen? Do I introduce her to new stuff? In terms of feelings, she is not anywhere near where I am with this city. She likes it alright, but she doesn't swoon in the way I swoon every time I set foot in the Luxembourg Gardens. So, what's my agenda for her here?

In the end, the weather solves the problem for me. The showers are to start by noon and they are expected to stay with us until after we leave. That means that I should seize the morning for our park stroll and return to a museum in the afternoon.

But first, there is breakfast.

I am pleasantly surprised about many aspects of Snowdrop's growing maturity. I mean, kids do grow up, right? Getting her to abandon her beloved striped shirt and old leggings would have been a challenge even a couple of months ago. Today, she doesn't bat an eye. 

We set out toward the park. The end of March is a beautiful time to be in Paris: it may well be the calmest period in terms of tourism. Note how empty the park is! At the same time, this is not Wisconsin: bulbs are blooming, trees are in full swing, winter is long gone!

[Are you wondering about the garbage situation in Paris? Well, the city is definitely messy. The heaps of trash have been (mostly) collected, but the strike continues in some fashion and the stray bits of trash, the unwashed roads and sidewalks, the feeling of dustiness are all quite noticeable if you're used to a cleaner city. And yes, in normal times, Paris is a cleaner city. Still, I am relieved that you can walk through it and still think it to be beautiful. And nowhere is that feeling more genuinely with you than in the parks.]

I offer her the (paid) playground and at once she remembers its challenges. Well, challenges for a younger girl. Not so difficult for an 8 year old. But, Snowdrop loves playgrounds and she tries every single piece of equipment here.

And now I have the most glorious piece of luck: the Luxembourg Museum has a fantastic exhibition (from  March 15 until July 16) and I had not known about it until I saw the posters on the Garden fences. It's dedicated to the brother of Claude Monet -- Leon Monet. Leon was an industrialist, a paint specialist, a collector and total supporter of his brother and his crew of Impressionists. The exhibit of paintings of Monet, Pissarro, Renoir, etc is just fabulous! And there is virtually no line to get in.

Snowdrop is pleased to see it, but she isn't as wowed by it as I am.  Still, she is patient with me and she does, as always, pick out her favorite canvases, though pausing to consider if something is a sunrise or a sunset is less of a thrill. "I say sunrise!" -- she proclaims and moves on. 

Now this is special! Take a picture! -- she urges me. I look curiously at the small canvas. It's of the sea. Maybe she is still one foot in Greece...

(There is mural toward the end made with colors that Monet favored in his darker period. Someone offers to take our photo by it. Sure!)

From here, we make a loop -- past the St. Sulpice Square... (fountain!)

... past the pastry store (just to look; this on is my favorite.. but not hers! she's all about chocolate)...

And then onto a favorite children's clothing store. I used to spend a lot of time chasing down fun dresses and outfits for the kids, when there were fewer kids! Now that there are five of them, even picking up two or three items for each means that I am going to need an extra bag to take it all home (and preemptively, I did pack into my carryon an extra bag. Who cares if it doesn't get home with us upon the return).

I tell Snowdrop that we are shopping for her cousins and her brothers. Since she runs around in shorts and t-shirts all summer long, I'm not going to spend money on dresses for her. But she falls in love. With that skirt. With this dress. With a stuffed hedgehog! I'm beginning to think that bringing her to a children's clothing store was not such a good idea. Or maybe it was? Maybe we can get her out of the same too small striped shirt after all? 

And now I think we can take a pause at the hotel. Snowdrop loves these breaks just as much as I do. Sit down, read a little, play a little, type a little here.

...Until it's time to head out for lunch. She's plenty hungry, but I'm not sure she's going to be happy hiking across town to eat lunch where I want to eat lunch! And so I ask her if she is willing to stop by the Food Halls of Le Bon Marche on the way, to pick up chocolate covered Teddys that she and Sparrow love for back home. 

She is. And so I have my cake and I get to eat it too! I have sweet-talked her into going to the Food Halls which I love (and where we also pick up some fabulous strawberries which I then carry with me for the rest of the afternoon! Uff! YOU try to keep French strawberries from turning to mush on a long hike through the city, through a crowded museumm, through a rain storm, and to a tight lunch eatery!).

(she can manage check out in Madison, and she can manage check out at Le Bon Marche)

Too, from the Food Halls, it's just a hop skip to my place of such great sentiment that I cannot imagine not eating here on my Parisian trips: it's Cafe Varenne. 

I don't know what's better here -- the unfussy but great food, or the wait staff which is absolutely superb. (I get a great boost of confidence, too, as the waiter comments on my French, absolutely motivating me to try even harder to get totally fluent. Nothing in this world beats positive reinforcement!)

Snowdrop makes me smile as she not only remembers Cafe Varenne, but tells me what both she and I ate  here last year. For me it had been white asparagus which the waiter tells me is still not abundant enough to put on the menu. Too early. That's okay. She gets her pasta, I get lentils and their home cured salmon.

Energized, we head over to the Musee d'Orsay. I told her that if the line is too long, we would not go. And the line is long, even for this late afternoon hour, but it turns out that if you have time sensitive tickets, you do not wait in it, but go to another entrance. No wait at all! We are in! 

It's not as crazy crowded as usual, but it is overwhelming. We check out the Van Gogh rooms and honestly, that probably would have been enough for one visit. 

But we persevere! It's just that we dont linger anymore. It's a straight shoot through the rooms.  I'm more interested in getting her to remember forms, colors, names, than anything else. She does tell me -- you like Impressionists. I like the more abstract painting. I'm not sure where this comes from! I don't press her. I like that she has an idea about what appeals to her.

I offer her a return to the hotel now. Or, I suggest the Tuilleries Gardens. With the merry-go-round. Even though it's raining cats and dogs! 

She chooses the Gardens. She is a girl who claims to love rain.

The ticket seller at this merry-go-round has been doing this for 25 years! I remember him well from previous visits. And as always, on this very uncrowded day, he throws in a bunch of free rides. I get dizzy just watching her go round and round, but she is happy as a clam switching animals, saucers, airplanes...

And the rain comes down in gusts and swells...

And then it stops, for a while, and she wants that sticky messy sugary cotton candy and I say sure!

On the walk back, I realize that I am more tired than she is. Maybe it's the souvenirs in my bag and the strawberries. Maybe it's that I am not 8 years old!

(this may be the only photos of the Eiffel Tour from this trip...)

(and another rare shot -- of hair tucked behind her ears, done so out of necessity, because of the cotton candy stickiness!)

 When we get to the hotel, she, as always, insists on walking up the four flights. I tell her -- meet you upstairs!

In the evening I booked us a table at a well liked Italian place (L'Oliveto). Not quite as staid as the one we'd been going to in past years. This is perhaps her hardest evening for her. Being on good behavior, sticking to good manners for three meals a day, all this stuff is something she can handle, but add to it the absence of rowdy brothers and the safe harbor of parents and you're going to feel the strangeness of the moment eventually. For Snowdrop it comes tonight. 

I go easy on the food and restaurant demands and afterwards, we walk slowly through the boisterous neighborhood and chat about stuff. And I lead us to a couple of pastry stores -- mostly empty by the end of the day, but still, with the occasional tart or cake, and we pick up some stuff she might enjoy at the hotel (she has grown to love lemon tarts on this trip!), and we come back and she eats and snuggles in her bed and all is right with the world again.

Tomorrow is our last day in Paris. In Europe, actually. I offered her a "take it easy" route, but she is choosing to face it head on. I tell her she must get some rest tonight. 

Hey, maybe I should get rest tonight as well! One can but hope!

With love...

to Paris

The end of our travels to Greece. Having thought so much about it, about how to do this right, about balancing the musts and the wants, I now get the luxury of looking back without penalty. What did I learn from traveling there with my granddaughter, at an age where she was getting to be older and wiser and me, well just older? She said yesterday -- Gaga, I'm getting to be more flexible even as you are getting older and less flexible in what you can do. We are a perfect match! 

Not letting my grandkids down is so important to me right now. Have I kept on opening doors for her? For them all, given all that I cannot do anymore?

Those deeper questions come back to me on the airplane. But earlier in the morning, I'm still focused on Greece.

Our last good morning, again to a Mediterranean blue sea...

(our ride up to breakfast with a million Snowdrops...)

Yes, our final Greek breakfast, though with a buffet type meal, you'll find little on her plate that you could actually call "Greek." Maybe the kumquats, probably from Corfu?

Breakfast buffets are a ubiquitous feature of larger hotels. They save time, save staff, save everything but the food. They encourage nibbling and tasting and not finishing. I should have insisted on only one pastry, but Snowdrop so wanted to try both and in the end finished neither. At least we didn't also order off the warm menu. Tempting omelets, pancakes, French toast. All included! I hold firm and say no thanks.

I have come to understand that expensive hotels excel at waste. It's not their fault -- customers demand it. It's luxurious to wrap yourself in a thick bathrobe, to have a fresh towel waiting for you outside the pool, out on the chair, under your feet when you step out at night. So many towels! I remember lesser places with thinner towels and signs reminding us to reuse them. I used to think -- oh, it's wet, but it's so thin that it will dry by tomorrow. Maybe. Here, I'm of course participating in the parade of towels. You cant avoid it. 

One pleasant surprise is how nice the people at the Astir Palace are to kids. To me as well, but I dont much care about that. I can live with rude. But grownups who are friendly to children teach them to be polite right back. I like that!

Again Snowdrop and I wind up walking along the shore. And again, the sea looks so blue!!

Windy, too! My Greek sea maiden...

(She insists on using my camera on me, taking a million pictures that all look pretty much the same...)

("Can you take a picture of me holding the water from here?")

And just before noon are airport ride is here, same guy as before, chatty, explaining this, explaining that, even as Snowdrop and I are always such quiet passengers!

Our Air France flight leaves on time, but it's a longer trip -- nearly four hours to get us to Paris. There is a bit of a shuffle about arrival gates and another shuffle about our ride back to Paris, so that in the end, we are at the hotel after 7. When initially booking flights, we were targeting a 3 pm hotel arrival, which would have avoided rush hour traffic. As it were, the stop and go ride was terribly long and Snowdrop, who is normally a good car passenger, nearly did not make it without feeling totally done in by it all. 

Still, as soon as we came into our room at my beloved  Baume Hotel, the dizzying pace and the tedium of a long trip faded and Snowdrop's bounce was there again. 

And because the hotel is so special and the people here are so nice, I found in the room a bouquet of flowers and, too, Snowdrop's favorite chocolate covered marshmallow bears. Very quickly all calm was restored.

The Baume always delivers. They're just so good at giving their best.

Paris is an hour behind Greece and so it is early but also late by the time we set out to dinner. I dont try hard here with Snowdrop. I take her to a place she knows and likes, where she orders a dish she knows and likes (steak frites). 

(Les Editeurs)

At first, it doesn't ring bells, but the minute we enter, she points to a table and says -- last year, we sat here! (Indeed we did.) And, before, with Sparrow, you and I sat here! (Yes, that's right.) Well, this time, we sit here:

The steaks in France always seem to be just a tad tougher than our own, but they are delicious and the fries for her a heaven sent!

A big exhale and a big smile, on her face, on mine.

[I should note that Snowdrop fell sick on the night we arrived by the Aegean sea, spiking a fever that worried me, except that this is not the first time she has spiked fevers in Europe. It's probably the lack of sleep coupled with exposure to god knows what along the way. And the excitement. Everything rolled into one ball of excess. The restful day, thankfully, cured her.] 

So, early bedtime is in order! And yet we linger. It's just so great to luxuriate without concern about what's next. And without (that much) garbage on the streets! (That strike seems to be almost over.) And with two days before us that, while rainy, will surely be memorable.

With so much love...

lazy day Athens

Snowdrop slept for twelve hours straight and woke up the better for it. Still, I'm not pushing it today. And though it is a brilliant day with a deep blue sea and a bluejay sky, it is really cold for Greece at the end of March (a high of 57F or 13C, with gusty winds that form white caps on the usually gentle sea bay).

Good morning, blustery Greece!

(we go up for breakfast: waiting for an elevator)

Breakfast? With a pretty view of the waters and, too, of a cat that parades back and forth outside. I note to Snowdrop that if Ed was here, he'd open the door and let the cat in (this is why you cant take the guy anywhere!).

My plan was to take walks here, but Snowdrop needs the rest more than she needs the walks, so we spend a lovely morning in our room reading, hanging out and enjoying the views. I mean, it would be a waste to stay at a beautiful room by the sea and not suck up every minute out of our time here, right? (Too, I need to do more kid laundry: the little wooden tray suspended over the bathtub makes for a perfect drying rack!)

Alright, feeling a tad guilty, I take her for a stroll just to the sea and back.

She tells me she has never seen water this blue!

We look wistfully at the pool. We're wearing jackets. Swimming here is looking to be a very remote possibility.

But! There is an indoor pool and I tell you, never was I more happy to offer her that. True, you could say we did not have to travel to Greece to swim indoors. Wisconsin Dells is a 40 minute drive north of Madison and there you can swim and slide and drink all the chlorinated water you want 365 days a year. But, here we are, on a cold day, a little tired, still a little wistful of all that could be on a warmer day, and so I say let's go and have an indoor swim!

(our biggest walk today: along the corridor leading to the pool!)

She meets another girl there, just a tad older. From Colorado. Here on spring break. They play a little but eventually Snowdrop is by herself in the pool (which at its deepest goes up to her nose, if she stands on tippy toes) and honestly, social as she is, in pools, she likes her own games.

This pool offers some jets and sprays and when I think she's had enough (her lips are starting to quiver -- the water is not that warm), she switches to the big hot pool with even more jets and she occupies herself switching them on and off.

Two hours of water fun! (Followed by a minute in a sauna, just because she had never tried one before this trip, not being herself of a Finnish family.)

Lunch? Again, we stay "on campus." I know, I know. Seize those last hours in Greece! 

We prefer to take things calmly today. Pasta for her, asparagus for me.

In the afternoon, we are, predictably, in our room. It never moved beyond 57F (13C) and the winds continue to whip up the sea waters. Still, Snowdrop hears voices of children outside. Looking out, she notices two kids, actually swimming in the cool-ish pool waters. Well, if they can do it, so can she!

(brave)

(braver)

(braver still)

She doesn't last (and neither do the two others), but she is pleased as anything that at least she gave herself that chance to test the waters. And as long as we are testing waters, I encourage her to dip her toe into the Aegean Sea. We find a shell, we shiver a little, and now it really is time for hot shower (third one today!) to cap our water adventures in Greece.

In the evening, I follow the hotel's suggestion and we cab over (all of five minutes) to Labros Restaurant, just a tad further down the shoreline. It's Greek seafood and there isn't much for her to get excited about, nonetheless, we go there because I feel we have to do something authentically Greek today.

(she is caught up in a new book and I do allow her to read before food is served... I sit back and watch the last rays throw light on her young face..

Yes, I let her order her security dish: pasta. But, she has to try the other stuff too. And she does and I marvel at how much easier it is to get her to go along with this requirement now. Grilled this, fried that. She protests none of it.

As I look out at the hills and mountains beyond the bay, I speculate out loud about how it would be to actually live here, as a Greek, with the sea and land being your daily friend or foe. With history nipping at your everyday. With your dependence on the influx of tourists, always the tourists, who bring with them the good, the bad, the annoying.

I can only hope that we were not among the annoying here, in this beautiful country. 

Tomorrow afternoon, we fly to Paris.

With love...