returning home

Wake up before 6, out of our hotel room by 7. It's dark in Paris then. I take no photos -- I'm keeping the girl focused on moving along, on counting her stuffies. On being responsible for her two bags. Both purple! -- she tells me. Easy to keep track of. for a purple loving girl. 

We say goodbye to the Baume staff and cab over to the airport. Winter bags are too heavy for me to navigate through the commuter train system. The 10:30 long distance flights bring out hoards of people and it's always crowded at the airport at this early hour, but that's just the way it is. I still prefer this departure. Leave early and you get in early (expected arrival before 5 pm). Leave later and you drag in close to midnight. 

My airline loyalty serves me best at the Paris airport. Here I benefit from shorter lines and space to zone out. We eat breakfast, she plays Wordle. 

I think about how tired I was last night. Not the kind of tired where your legs ache and you want to sit down, but the kind of tired that comes with age, when nothing is functioning at optimal levels. Head spins, stomach churns. Travel is becoming like that for me: in the mornings I am raring to go. By evening, I'm a bowl of wet noodles. Limp. Soggy. Useless. I keep hoping I can keep this at bay, that I can keep traveling, alone, or with a grandchild. In the mornings I always think -- of course I can! In the evenings, I'm less confident.

 

We board our Delta flight to Detroit. This is probably the most traveled leg for me -- Delta to Detroit. I like Detroit best of all the entrance destinations (even though their TSA at International is awkward). The airport is rarely crazy busy. And the last leg from there to Madison is under an hour.

 

Her dad picks up a radiant Snowdrop. She just loved this trip -- up there with the one to the Italian lakes, she tells me. Maybe she is at heart a mountain goat? But one who still wants to see the world. She'll tick off countries she wants to visit. There are many.

We are home. Cats, chickens, Ed. All quiet. Such a contrast to the days that just flew by! It was a 24/7 watch over the girl. Total responsibility for her well being. She gives me plenty of downtime, but I'm always there for her. My focus, my energy is completely directed at keeping her excited, happy, in a learning mode. At home, I am responsible for feeding chickens and a few cats and occasionally Ed. That's it. When a challenging trip ends, if all goes well, I am hugely relieved. Satisfied. I wanted to create memories. I've done it and they were good. I'm so happy.

But, too, I am happy to be home with Ed in that bubble of quiet that we love to share. My time to think, to exhale. To smile at all that life has to offer. And most importantly -- I am so grateful that all went well, that all is well. 

with so much love...

two days in Paris

The rains recede, I see a little blue, the streets of Paris glisten. [Snowdrop asks: why do they literally wash the streets here? Why indeed. I've never known Paris not to spray down and sweep up its streets. Pride of place? Habit?]

We eat breakfast -- lots of croissants, breads. Our fill of it. It's our last breakfast in the city. Tomorrow before dawn we leave.

The girl feels comfortable here. She knows the place and they know her. 

But it's all fleeting of course. Tomorrow she will return to her routines. To her brothers. To her friends. One last chance to spend a day listening to her stories. To walk hand in hand.

 

 

 

But where to? She wants to get close to the Eiffel Tower. This is a recurring theme of her visits here. I never offer her a trip up to the top, even though I know she'd like it. I suppose she knows my limits. (I've gone up twice in my life and believe me, that was enough.)

We walk along my best paths. Past squares, past markets...

All the way to the Tower. It's an hour if you go without pauses, pictures and purchases. We had pauses, pictures and purchases.

Finally. We are there. 

 

 

 

I'm surprised to still see the fencing -- weren't they fixing up the parks by the Tower? Is this a very long-term project? Regardless. It's always special to be close to this structure. Surely every angle has been photographed by millions by now. And yet, we keep on taking pictures...

 

 

 

And now it's time to turn back. Snowdrop inspects every corner to make sure that no one is selling cotton candy (because in the busier seasons, you can count on it in the parks, and especially by the Tower). We talk about what to do next. Snowdrop had wanted a picnic by the Tower, but of course it's too cold for that (and the public spaces are mostly blocked off by fencing). She has the idea of picking up a baguette and fruits and treats at the Bon Marche food courts and maybe taking these back to the hotel room for a picnic there. But, too, she wants the merry-go-round at the Tuilerie Gardens. That's a lot of walking.

Can we take a taxi? 

No, Snowdrop. It's not raining. Let's not miss out on all that we see when we walk. 

I break things down: let's walk to the Tuileries. That's only maybe 20 minutes (a gross understatement -- it's maybe double that). Let's see how we feel after that.

We persevere. And are so glad to finally get to the very empty gardens! 

 

 

 

And triply happy to see the merry-go-round in motion. Every day, from 10 to 7! Reliable, with the same ticket seller there, rain or shine. (And I swear, we felt a few drops on our walk!)

Snowdrop looks awfully lonely on her horse, then airplane, then spinning cup. No other child in sight. 

Paris really is empty of tourists in January. Understandable, but on the other hand, it isn't that cold here. In the mid 40s F (maybe 7C). Positively spring weather by my Wisconsin sensibilities. 

Snowdrop gets lucky here: the merry-go-round guy also makes and sells cotton candy. Her dream realized!

From there she pushes for a taxi to the food courts, but I encourage her (more like bribe her) to continue. It's only 20 minutes more! (Another under-estimate.)

I have to say, when we finally enter the warm store (after several hours in the windy and cloudy and damp city), it feels like heaven! 

 

 

The deal is to get some strawberries -- she has been coveting them all over the city and I kept deflecting (we have to wash them! later! maybe tomorrow!) -- and a baguette and some of her favorite macarons. When she spots some currants, she adds those. 

 

 

I add a carrot salad for myself. We are set!

Can we take a taxi back to the hotel?

It's only 19 (um, more or less) minutes!

We walk.

Two more pauses -- at the spoon shop, and at the new little coffee vendor by the hotel. And finally, nearly 20 000 steps later (we both have counters and for once, it feels good to look down at the day's walking successes), we are in the hotel room. She swears she wont ever leave again. [I have to finish with my transportation card purchases, so I hop out for a few minutes on my own to the train/metro station. And I pick up some tea on the way! A walk in Paris, even a short walk in Paris, always is like this.]

Of course, she, too has to leave. In the evening, I booked dinner at Vita Ristorante. A new one for me. My pescatarian traveler is so much more flexible in her eating habits, but the typical French bistro will have five dishes -- three will be meats, one fish, and one vegetarian. Though she'll eat whatever fish is presented, not all will be her favorites. I  did not want to disappoint her on her last day of her trip, nor did I want to walk far for dinner. The Italian Vita seemed a great idea, made even better by the fact that it is in the direction of the Latin Quarter. At the last minute I looked up entrance tickets to Notre Dame and sure enough, there was a spot available for tonight. Snowdrop seemed excited by the idea of visiting the cathedral late at night. It's a plan!.

Vita is a good place, though I liked our opening fried mix more than I liked my pasta with shrimp. Importantly though, Snowdrop's main dish -- pizza -- was delightful.

The walk to Notre Dame at night:

I was amused that they required tickets and that it was so difficult to claim some, because no one checked ours and there was no line to get inside. Moreover, though Snowdrop was somewhat awed by the grand interior, much of Notre Dame's beauty is in the detail on the outside, and in the stained glass windows -- all this was lost on us.  I'm glad we saw it, but honestly, if you're going to make a point of exploring the cathedral, do it in daylight! Of course, the adventure of being out on the island late at night, just before a return home, was wonderful. Snowdrop was all smiles.

A late at night walk back... 

 

 

 

... to our sweet room at the Baume. Early tomorrow we will be on our way to Detroit, then Madison. My next post will be from the farmhouse.

with so much love...

two days in Paris

There will be rain after the noon hour, but in the morning we wake up to a pretty, rose tinted sky. One could sing a song about it!

We are in Paris. Staying in the lovely Hotel Baume, in a room with big windows looking out onto a quiet street. And the Theater Odeon. 

 

 

Breakfast downstairs. Familiar baskets of breads and croissants for me, smoked salmon for the girl. 

And then what? 

 

 

 

Well, importantly, she races me six floors up to our room. This is a game she loves to play at the Baume: use the stairs no matter what. Well, I got mountain legs now! But so does she.

I made a list for our two days here. There are essentials and there are possibilities. Spread out over the Left Bank. How much will we accomplish? I cannot tell.

We both agree that we should start with the Luxembourg Gardens. Just to say hello. And to greet the distant Eiffel Tower.

I then steer her to the metro/train station at the Luxembourg gates. I am trying to figure out Paris's ever-changing Navigo travel card system. There has been a gradual shift toward using cards rather than individual tickets and you just cant keep up with it, or protect yourself by making advance purchases, because chances are it will all be different the next time you're here. This has happened to me far too often and I am determined to get the details straight, since I know that 2025 ushered in something new for travelers. 

In the end, I sort of get it. It seems unnecessarily complicated and I way prefer systems in place in Chicago or London where you can load money onto cards and then just spend it down. (Or Poland -- where people my age travel for free!) We'll see if it all shifts once again before I am next here (in a couple of months!).

We are a short walk away from a bookstore called Shakespeare and Company (which happens to be very close to the Notre Dame...)

 

 

 

We go to the bookstore now. 

It's a special place and it has a long history of supporting new and aspiring writers. Snowdrop is less intrigued by this, but she does like the Shakespearean emphasis (at least in the name) and she is delighted to find one of his plays published in a graphic novel, and another sold in its full version.

I'm interested in the other books (and there are many!), but in the end we cut our visit short. We're not in Paris long enough to blow time this way. We need to do some city walks!

 

We go back to the gardens. The girl insists on this and at first I'm puzzled because it is January and there's not much in bloom here now, nor is it warm enough to stroll leisurely. 

 

 

 

I should have known: she so much wants to do their merry-go-round, with the stick that catches the ring.

 

And she wants so much to do the playground...

I shiver at this one -- she moves, I wait. It's not a great January grandmother hangout place. But, she just has to work through all the structures! Fair enough. She has her Paris faves. I'm accommodating.

From there, we go to the shopping area -- the one that yields the most clothing for my grandkids -- starting with a store that has all those cotton tops the kids love and the parents love as well. 

 

(spring=soon)

 

 

Five kids, many tops, bags full.

Now it really is lunch time. Paris and lunch -- you have to play by the rules. But Snowdrop so wants to take a look at the department store toys and we are right there!

We look at toys.

And now we do hurry. We are close enough to Cafe Varenne -- my favorite lunch place in Paris -- but it is raining and the sidewalks are narrow and my bags are bulging and the umbrella sways a little this way and that way as I try to keep the two of us and all my bundles dry. 

And when we arrive -- perfectly at 1, so proper, so French -- the place is bursting at the seams with diners, because of course everyone eats exactly now.  So it's crowded. And the owners run this place so well that you never feel like it's going to be a long wait. Five minutes -- they tell us (and the next entrants and the ones after). And it really is five minutes.

Snowdrop is a bit overwhelmed by the tumult. By the proximity of the tables. By the tight squeeze for our shopping bags. But I let her get away with a lunch of French green beans (many green beans) and fries (many french fries) and she relaxes.

 

The couple to our side engage us. Because of my camera (he knows it and likes it) and because of my mixture of French (with the waiter) and American English (with the girl). The woman is herself American, but she is living in France now and dating this very French camera loving guy. After learning I travel here often, he asks me -- why dont you just buy an apartment here? 

So funny. The short answer is that I love being with my family and Ed back home. There was a time when I thought having a tiny place here would be the epitome of luxury: a vacation pad in Paris! Something to save up for! A little studio on a quiet Left Bank street. Or just out of town.

I never did save up for it and I am so glad I fell short! Second homes, vacation flats, cottages by the lake, by the sea, in the mountains -- they tie you down and they take you away from those you love. And they require upkeep and commitment. What about any of this sounds good to you? 

I smile, tell the French man that I love coming here, to his Paris, but I love my family and my guy even more.

Next stop for us? The candy store next door for their caramels and chocolates!

 

And now here's a problem: I'm loaded with bags. Books, clothes, candies. And we have tickets for the Musee d'Orsay for 3:30. You cant lug this stuff inside a museum. And it's raining hard. 

We cab back to the hotel, I leave our stuff, and then we're out again, hurrying to make our entrance slot to the museum. (I asked her if maybe she'd like to skip the museum, but she is insistent. She really does like paintings and especially Impressionism and especially Monet.)

At this late hour, the museum is starting to empty out. There's no line to go in and there's plenty of space to move around our favorite canvases.

(Gaga! I stood on this bridge!)

 

Home again. Yes, it feels like home. Here's an example: yesterday, Snowdrop and I entered the Baume and she was in tears, realizing that she had left her favorite special cat decorated water bottle in the cab. She recovered, she apologized, but the desk staff took note. This afternoon, we find a big beautiful water bottle in the room, with dogs and cats and even a purple spout. That's how kind they are at Le Baume.

 

We eat dinner at Seulement Sea. I've written about it before: small, close by, and all about seafood. Snowdrop is thrilled -- all seafood? no meat? really??

For starters she wants oysters. Part of me thinks she's mixing them up with mussels, so I explain the difference. Still, she wants to try the briny salty oysters. And she loves them!

Cod with fries...

Chocolate mousse for dessert. Total happiness. 

We leave to walk back to the Baume. It's still raining outside. 

No matter. It's not a long walk and the rain will end tonight. And we're in step now. One umbrella, two of us, walking home to our warm room on the fifth floor of Le Baume.

with love...

from Saint Martin de Belleville to Paris

And snow it did! All night long, well into the day. Clouds all around us blanketed the mountains, but still -- it's lovely! 

My daughter was already on her way home by the time Snowdrop and I got up. Breakfast -- our last one here, was different -- just the two of us.

But the girl loves the foods here so much and I settled in to my more gentle morning meal, so we got a good start to the day.

We have a ride to the train station at 11:30. I packed most of our stuff last night -- a delicate balance of putting at the bottom used clothing, keeping near the top Paris necessities. I needed to finish it up, but that took no time at all. Snowdrop was engrossed in a made up story on the computer and so I left her to it and headed out for a short, snowy walk down the hill.

I wanted to get that last view of a snow covered Alpine village -- it's so perfect right now, so dreamy and delicate, without a wind to mess with the canvas all around us. 

 

 

 

At the same time, I want to be mindful of keeping my shoes dry for the trip. So no hiking along forest trails! (Though I did look on with mild envy at this small group who headed out on snowshoes...)

I pop into the souvenir shop -- for a surprise little huskie stuffie for the girl, but really just to have a last glance at this shop, just because it's the only one in town and there's something special about there being just one, this one, with Madame attentively asking, pointing, helping with selections (also throwing in some earring backs for free, because Snowdrop lost hers and raided mine to make up for it!). 

(I love these old-styled cards -- I dont have any need for them, but still, they are as evocative as ours back home that depict New England winters -- the snowy ones I now only dream about back in Wisconsin.)

It's snowing again and for a moment I wish we would have one more day here, but of course, our wheels are spinning now away from the mountains. With my daughter already in Geneva and our own train waiting to take us from Chambery to Paris, we are no longer in a Savoie mindset. 

But I think about these five days and I try to pick them apart, in an attempt to figure out why we loved this place so much (an quite a bit more than Chamonix, or Morzine). Certainly the quietness of the village. The absence of skiers at every corner. The old Savoyard streets, the beautiful forest trails right out the door. The smaller chalet style hotel. 

 

 

 

The success Snowdrop had skiing (Matthieu sent us this photo and many clips of her barreling down the hill..)..

The trip here did have its challenging moments: the ride up to Saint Martin on that foggy evening was terrifying. And the air here is thin enough to make hiking even moderate trails a big challenge. But none of this detracted from our feelings about this place. Snowdrop is dying to come back! And indeed, as I return to the hotel to get us out of the room, she says -- can't I have one more walk? Maybe to the bakery with the lollipops and ice cream? That's a short walk and I want one last look at the village.

Snowdrop!! That should have happened earlier! We have a ride in 15 minutes! 

It wont take more than 15 minutes! 

It always takes longer than you think and especially when there is slushy snow on all the streets and sidewalks. Nevertheless, I can't say no. I want her to have a chance to say good bye, to feel the pleasure of that hilly walk one last time, so that she can take with her that same sweet love for her stay in Saint Martin de Belleville.

And then we're off to Chambery (1 hour and 15 minutes from here). We linger at the news stand for a few minutes (and of course I get sucked into picking up some chocolate covered marshmallow bears because Snowdrop firmly believes that these are the quintessential French candy) and then the train rolls in and we make our way to the track...

("dont pause to take a picture now!!")

 

And three hours later, after speeding north at 300 km/hr,  we are in Paris.

Paris. Each time I come here, I have a mindset, a focus. When I'm here with the grandkids, nearly everything I do here is with them in mind. This short stay, a January one, which can be very dicey and wet, is no different. 

We cab over to the Baume Hotel. My safe haven. A place that does not know how to disappoint! And in the one room, the same one each time, a room that always feels so much like home.

 

Yes, there's supposed to be rain tonight, and there'll be rain tomorrow. I went over museum choices with the girl -- she picked one, we'll go there when it rains. Most certainly we'll go to the park the next day. But honestly, we're here because Paris offers that needed balance to the trip. It can't just be about Saint Martin de Belleville. Much of France would often like to ignore Paris, but it needs it as much as my morning croissant needs its milky coffee. Perhaps then this is a reminder: we are in a different country and at its center, there is Paris to reckon with.

Tonight though we do very little "reckoning." It's rather late. She's tired. I let her stay with her tablet as I unpack. 

 Just before the dinner hour, I push for a short walk. Here's an easy one that always gets her excited -- to Muji -- a Japanese chain store that has the best supply of tiny little notebooks, coveted by little ones who like to draw/write while waiting for dinner.

And to a neighborhood pastry store to stack up on macarons -- a much better dessert idea than going for a restaurant sweet dish.

(walking our neighborhood's streets...)

Dinner tonight is at Agata -- my most recent favorite nearby pizza place. She devours the fried calamari...

And we both do great justice to our pizzas.

She is in a far better mood afterwards. 

I have grown to expect good moods from Snowdrop when we travel. She is always so enthusiastic and grateful that I forget that some things may be taxing for her. She lost her water bottle en route today and she was disproportionately devastated by it. Later, she told me that she was so mad at herself for being careless. And by the way, she tells me -- she misses our mountain days. I never assume that she needs to adjust to anything, because she always just goes along with the next adventure and the one that follows. This girl loves Paris with a passion and I have no doubt she'll transition quickly, but there is in Snowdrop this momentary pause, where she doesn't want to let go just yet.  One enthusiastic foot in Paris...

 

 

 

... the other? Still stuck in the snows of Saint Martin de Belleville.

With love...