I do consult with my young traveler on special requests she may have when she ventures out into the world with me. Last time, for example, she wanted to repeat a picnic by the Eiffel Tower. I obliged, even though picnicking there is no longer as fun, because of the construction, the barriers, the mess at the base. This time, thankfully, she passed on the Eiffel Tower altogether. Instead, she surprised me by wanting another cooking class.
This wasn't easy. The class we did last year in baking croissants and baguettes seemed to have disappeared off the face of the internet. But I did find one thing that I thought might appeal to her: family pastry baking at Cook 'n with Class. The downside of this program is that the cooking school is far -- on the other side of Montmartre in fact. And then there's the problems that it starts early in the morning. At 9. On the other side of Paris.
How to get there? I've avoided using the Metro since the pandemic, but since this is Saturday, I figured it shouldn't be too crowded. The school is a good 15 stops from where we are, but still, it was our best option, so despite the distance and the early hour, I signed us up.
I had to work hard to get her out of bed, showered, breakfasted and ready to leave the hotel by 8:30.
Several times I asked if she wanted to back out. Each time she assured me that she wanted to go.
Paris had updated much of the metro system of transportation since my last ride more than three years ago. The stations were newer, the entrance turnstiles were moving away from tickets.
Minutes were lost as I tried to make the automatic ticket machine behave and spit out discount tickets for her and regular fare tickets for me. (My rider card? At home. I forgot to pack it, which is just as well as it would have been stolen along with the rest of my wallet.) But, in the end, all worked well and we were on our way, me trying to quickly fix her hair as we swayed and jostled through the tunnels underneath the city. (There, done!)
It's a three hour class, normally maxing out at 4 students and their parent/adult person, but this time, they squeezed in a fifth, and one of the kids brought along a younger sib and rather than send them all away, the chef was willing to accommodate all. In other words, there were a lot of us, all American kids and indeed, a brother and sister were from Madison Wisconsin. It is a very small planet.
I'd not been around kids in that age range much lately (Snowdrop was the youngest, except for the snuck in little brother) and I'd been spoiled by my own grandkids who are gentle in their approach to others. In my view, many of the young kids seemed pushy, but it was clear that nothing about this was strange to Snowdrop. To her, they were all just regular old kids. Did you like anyone more? Or less? Nope! All good.
The pastry chef was very easy going and playful with the kids, clearly proud of his country's commitment to good food and quality ingredients.
In the three hours there, the kids made individual chocolate cakes, creme brûlées, pear tarts and Eiffel Tower cookies.
I'd say it was totally enjoyable and the chef made sure that everyone had a turn at everything. There were some down minutes and I think it would have been great if the kids, nay, the adults could have had chairs to sit on, nonetheless, Snowdrop told me she liked the class, even though, predictably, she only nibbled on her own creations afterwards. The father of the two boys asked if we really were not finishing all that she baked and could he then take home any leftovers for his own pack of kids? (Turns out there are even more sons in his traveling family... Fun!)
All the families talked about having gone to Disney World Paris, which amused me and really amused the French chef. You could at least have gone to the French version of Disney -- we have Asterix Park and it's very French!
I dont think Snowdrop ever realized that there is a Disney park in France. I have just a tiny bit of curiosity if it's full of American kids visiting Paris and if it has a Frenchyness to it. Honestly, I expect I will never find out. I'm sure to my grandkids' chagrin, they are stuck with a grandma who is not saving up to take them all to Disneyland, Disney World or Paris Disney. C'est la vie.
By noon we are done and back on the metro again.
On our walk back to the hotel, we stop by the little shop around the corner, where I have managed to pick up a necklace or a pin every now and then -- the one type of souvenir that I do not mind bringing home with me. The woman who owns it knows me by now and we always play this game where she tells me the prices of things, I agree to pay, and then in the end she lowers it by some 30 per cent and throws in an extra item to boot. Not sure if this is a good business model, but she has been there now for years and years and though she tells me it's been slow since the pandemic, she seems happy to be discounting things left and right for me and probably anyone else who stopped in.
It's time for our famous hotel rest, even though I do feel we should be eating lunch now. Snowdrop is not very hungry and if I were an old fashioned grandma, I'd probably be insistent that she eat more, but I figure tomorrow she will be home, returning to her usual routines and I'm sure any caloric deficiencies will be made up then. (We have gained some stuffies however... Now how did that happen??)
Still, in the later afternoon, I insist we go out for a walk. Even though we are museumed out, and walked out, it's our final stretch and I'm sure I will be missing this profusion of spring, indeed of April in Paris once we leave. Come on, Snowdrop -- let's walk!
(First stop: Breizh Cafe, for crepes.)
And it is actually an unusually good walk, with intriguing stops and memorable moments along the way.
We stop first at a shop to pick up two spoons to add to my set that never has enough purples for the kids who all claim to want just that color.
Then we stop at Muji -- a shop with very inexpensive well, everything. It has a wall of notebooks and Snowdrop is so excited to see these that the other customers are left smiling at her unusually high level of enthusiasm for... notebooks.
Next, we stop at a store where I have been known to pick up an occasional item of clothing. There is a dress. Casual but nice. I'm thinking it would make for a nice 70th birthday outfit. Snowdrop is overwhelmed with joy. Gaga, it's fabulous! You look so great in it! You should definitely buy it! Again, she gets the smiles from the clerks, the customers.
And now we are in a little shop where they sell leather goods. I need a wallet. For obvious reasons. I waffle between two. I ask her advice. Well, if you are after the color, then you should definitely go with this one. But if you want the style, then that one's your choice! This time the clerks are in full support -- she is exactly right! -- they tell me. Snowdrop, the fashion consultant!
What's next? She knows we are in the vicinity of Le Bon Marche -- the grand department store of the Left Bank. Last time we passed this way, we'd seen window displays of ocean waters filled with swimming "fish" drawn by... well, someone. We didn't have time to check it out, but now she is asking to investigate it.
We go up to the second floor where apparently they are transmitting in real time video images of people touching these drawn swimming fish. There is a line to participate. It isn't long, but nor does it move fast. We wait. And wait. Others, with reservations enter. Those of us without them wait some more. Until finally, finally we are in!
And it is impressive. Right there in the middle of the store, there are floor to ceiling screens of ocean waters with fish which you can touch, and the fish do maneuvers in response to your touch. Snowdrop is running everywhere touching this one, and that one..
But there's more: you can actually color in your fish and they will transmit it to the wall to be part of the parade of fish. And all this is streamed down to the display windows of the store.
Snowdrop draws her fish with has "love" and her name on it and the tech person transmits it to the wall and now she is chasing her own fish and all this is shown on the store window displays facing the street.
She is thrilled. I mean, really thrilled.
Afterwards, we ride down the escalator and she cant stop bouncing with the satisfaction from having her own fish and her own self out there on the screen for the world to see.
Someone at Le Bon Marche really had an incredibly good marketing idea.
We are not done yet with our walk: we cut through a small park right by the department store. We'd been in it numerous times -- it's memorable for (among other things) its very tiny merry-go-round. Of course, she asks to ride it. Three times.
One more stop: a shop that sells grown up clothes but also has adorable stuff for girls. And so we finish the evening with cousin-shopping. And now it's 7 in the evening and we have a dinner reservation nearby.
This, our last dinner is at Georgette Restaurant, because I know the food here to be casual and good. And they have steak frites on the menu and I think the girl could use some protein!
It is unfortunate that they dumb down the meal for her, bringing hamburger instead of a small steak. They think she'd prefer that, but Snowdrop is not a hamburger eater in the best of times and so she struggles a bit. But, the asparagus is grand and the fries are good, and the whole meal is just fine, even as she asks me -- gaga, are you in any way disappointed in me?
No, Snowdrop. Never.
And now, at the hotel I have the packing, the sorting, the preparing for our return. On the one hand, it's always tedious to gather, fold and squeeze it all in a suitcase. On the other hand, it's stress free on the return. Sending bags through is easy, mixing up used clothing with the rare untouched shirt matters not at all. It's all just fold and tuck and fold and tuck and finally -- zip it all up and exhale.
Tomorrow, on the flights back, I can think about the trip. Tonight, I open the window and together Snowdrop and I can sing out -- Bonne nuit, Paris!
With love...
