the day after

A trip has three parts to it: the planning and anticipating, the actual day by day experience, and finally -- the thoughts that follow after. I like all three. They're all important and they all take time. I'm cycling through the third right now.

A grandchild-grandparent trip is a rare bird these days. Though Snowdrop told me that she knows a number of kids who are really close to their grandparents, nonetheless, the standard deal is to visit the grands (either old ones come to young ones, or young ones go to old ones, with or without parents). By the number of surprised (always sweet) comments I got from people we met during our travels, I gather that this wasn't a combination people are used to seeing out there, great distances from home. 

This doesn't really surprise me. Parents are older these days, which means that grandparents are older. Keeping a youngster happy and busy while abroad is not for those who are gettin' on in years. As Ed told me this afternoon, after planting three more peach trees - gosh, it's getting harder each year to dig those holes! I used to do a whole orchard in one day. Now? Three holes and I'm spent. 

Too, not every child would think this is a fun way to spend spring break. Not sure that Sparrow would vote to travel, over time spent at home with his sibs.  As for my Chicago grandgirls -- there we have two parents who are enthusiastic travelers themselves. I know they would want to tag along on any trip the girls took to interesting places. (Are you curious how those two grandgirls are doing? Me too! Here's a peak, from today's FaceTime call!)

One takeaway is that there is no cookie cutter pattern to follow for everyone. You can't just decide you want to do this and expect it will all fall into place exactly as you see it. Even with Snowdrop, whom I see nearly every day of her life (and so she's no stranger to me, to say the least), I was, for a long time, very tentative about the trip. Only because she, her parents and Ed were all so enthusiastic about it, did I finally decide that the time was right -- for her and for me.

And of course, because it was so rich in experiences, both Snowdrop and I learned a ton -- about each other, about ourselves. Her mom's first text comment upon her return yesterday -- where did my little girl go? she seems close to twice her age!  (Interestingly it's the reverse for a grandma -- after a trip with a young child, I feel less old than when I left!)

What would have I done differently? Oh, not much, really. You have to keep trying this and that to figure out what fits, but sometimes even the misfits are fun to work through. I'm not sure Snowdrop really figured out the singular significance of the veggie island of Venice (Sant Erasmo), but as we walked its paths on a rather gloomy, misty, eerily magical day that afternoon with Martina, and the little girl ran around picking dandelions while I tried to explain to Martina why dandelions are actually not popular with Americans (she just didn't get it), I thought -- this is a uniquely beautiful moment.

There is a spillover effect of a trip: I hope after spending all this time with just one grandchild, I'm actually a much better grandma to all of them. You get closer to that young soul when you walk hand in hand with one for days on end. You get out of your old person's rut and start seeing things as they see them. You grow more patient. (Snowdrop asked me if I ever get impatient, since I don't usually show much anxiety about stuff in front of her or the other grands. I laughed at that and told her when we come back, she should ask Ed!)

I'll just add that there's a lot of handholding when you travel with a child. And it's not only that you hold hers to guide her along. She holds yours to let you know that being there with you is a good thing. 

 

Meanwhile, back on the farm...

I'm still stunned how little green I'm seeing out there. A patch of cereal rye (a cover crop we used last fall), that's all.

(the new peach orchard)

The daffodils are shooting up but nothing is near the blooming stage yet.

At breakfast, there's much to review. In a few weeks, I'll be in my busiest period outside. For now, I'm just waiting for a warm up!

(Though we do take the time for a walk in our local park. So brown! The world is still so brown!)

Many people come back from a trip inspired to cook with greater care and imagination when they get home. What do Ed and I have for dinner tonight? Leftover frozen pizza. It doesn't get lower than that! Tomorrow. I'll return to kitchen duty tomorrow. For now, let's just say I have jet lag!

Yaaaawn! And good night.

 

leaving Paris

On departure days, you breathe a sigh of relief if you get up on time. And if you pack everything well, and the zippers zip, and you're out the door just as the cab pulls up. And you give a very quiet little sigh of gratitude and relief when the child you're with doesn't complain that we have skipped breakfast, because no one is serving it at this early hour.

You breathe a sigh of relief if the traffic isn't horrible leaving the city. Of course, it's still dark and everything outside is a blur.

You smile with relief when the cab driver finds you a cart at the airport because there are now two little cases, two wee bags and two very heavy backpacks. Books, cameras, computers pack a punch. Your little one sees the check in line and makes herself comfortable on top of the suitcases. She fits. We move slowly and breathe a great sigh of relief when we are finally checked in. And now we're in the next line, the super big one that takes us through passport controls. Cart not allowed. Child takes a step and sits down. Gets up, takes a step, sits down. (Where? On your feet of course.)

A big sigh of relief when we are through passport controls and have removed all those heavy contents from our backpacks to pass through security. Nice agent calls me back to show me that I forgot to pick up my watch. That's the first time on this trip that I forgot something and I am hugely relieved that we have everything now and are done with the whole mess of getting to our point of departure.

And now (so many hours later!) is the time for breakfast and the girl is hungry. Yogurt, croissant and potato chips, not necessarily in that order. Others may think this was not the best way to fill a tummy, but who am I to say what a child's tummy needs at this moment of this complicated day.

One more line and such chaos it is! We're flying home on Delta and maybe they're not yet used to having full flights leaving Paris, because it is a messy boarding. 

And finally, finally a huge sigh of relief. Door of plane is closed. We're going home.

It's always such a long flight back. But I can do nothing but feel relief: there are no delays, there is no lost luggage, we have a comfortable layover in Detroit.

(Snowdrop can play with this foldable portable Polly Pocket forever. Only once did I have to crawl under tight airplane seats in search of a missing piece...)

And best of all, as we finally land (on time!) in Madison, pick up our bags and come outside, Snowdrop's mommy and two brothers drive up to reunite with the girl they've missed so much these past days. And yes, she is excited to see them. It's midnight on our internal clocks, but you'd never know it looking at her now.

Big, happy sigh of relief. We managed! We more than managed!

I drive home to the farmette, to Ed who has been out planting the baby peach trees, to the cats, the chickens, all of it. I am surprised how brown the grasses are still. Anything blooming yet? Only a crocus or two. The rest? Holding off until my return! 

Home. With so much love...

a child's Paris

On this last day in Paris, I want to let Snowdrop take the lead. Well, as much as that's possible. Being away from home in a place that isn't really familiar (it's her fourth trip to Paris, but the first three happened before the pandemic and she seems to have only vague memories of them) doesn't leave her a lot of wiggle room to plan. Plus, we do need to follow protocols. Nonetheless, she gets to choose stuff she calls fun. I go along.

First though, the essentials. Breakfast. Hurry up, before they stop serving it! (That's my running message every morning.)

So, what would you like to include in this day?

She wants to recreate something she appears to remember from our last trip here: I'd taken her and Sparrow on a picnic by the Eiffel Tower. She wants to do that again. But to accomplish it, we need foods. I go over the possibilities. She chooses bread and strawberries. She loves the French versions of both! But Snowdrop, where's the protein?

She hesitates. Do they have cheddar cheese? Nope. Okay, maybe ice cream? It's her day. We'll look for ice cream.

We go out shopping, but before we do the pleasant, we have to do the unpleasant: get Covid tests at the pharmacy to see if we can return home. They really poke your nose here, but it needs to be done and in any case I need to see if I managed to escape the infection. Long line, a coughing positive person being there along with all others  -- I mean, a real fun detour!

Happily, we are both negative (though they tell us to come back later for the documents as the computers are down. Phew!).

From here we side step to a bakery (that's easy -- we are surrounded by great bakeries) for the baguette. The man reaches over and hands me a cookie. For the little one.

And from there, we check the local produce stands for good berries.

By now, after all this rushing about, Snowdrop would have probably appreciated some down time, but I said I had something else in mind -- something that I have never done before but was sure she would love -- the Jardin d'Acclimatation.

It's an amusement park set in a beautiful green corner of Paris and it targets, well, her age group! It's really for the elementary school set (those over 120 cm-- she just makes the cut there), though there are plenty of  rides for accompanied tots as well, so no one feels left out.

Why hadn't I ever taken my daughters there? The fact is, I hate rides. I hate things that go up and down and round and round. They are up there with sailing on rough seas: no matter how much I try to tolerate either, it always feels grossly awful and it takes me a while to recover, even once the world stops swaying and spinning in my head.

Still, this girl loves rides. I mean, she really loves them. I'm counting on the fact that she is old enough to send off on her own to most things that spin and twirl and bump and go every which way.

We take a taxi to the park. I thought Monday would be a good day because all French children are in school and indeed, the park is eerily on the empty side of the spectrum. The cold weather probably adds to that. It feels very much like an almost empty movie theater: on the one hand, great! There are no lines and you can see everything. On the other hand, missing is the peel of laughter and the shriek of the wild child trying out a wild ride.

Still, on balance, it's nice to have the place more or less to ourselves.

Nice, until we come to the biggest of the 4 roller coasters in the park. I mean, this is no giant by American standards, but still, it's pretty twisty and has some steep drops. She wants to go, but not alone.

What a grandma wont do for her granddaughter!

I'm still spinning in my head from the twisty horror of it all. (She loved it.)

I did do two other (tame) rides with her. The rest -- she was in fact fine on her own. Thank God.

(Lilacs are blooming here already! It was very warm... before we arrived!)

We were good for about two hours and then I was ready to coax her away toward our Eiffel Tower picnic.

We recreate however it is that she remembers it to be. Just goes to show -- great picnics have little to do with the food...(baguette and strawberries???)

I'd promised ice cream, but now it's getting mighty cool again. Still, I said the first cafe that has it on the menu will get us to step inside. (Me, I'm lusting after warm coffee...) Well, there is a cafe, and ice cream's on the menu, but once we are seated, the waiter tells us that they're just not set up for it yet. Would you like some other dessert?

Oh yes. (Delicious crepes, with coffee for the grandma!)

One more stop today, just one more -- at the Grand Epiceries Food Halls. But we purchase very little. It's a place with exquisite foods at exquisite prices. Like, $5 for a small chocolate sucker. A few will do. And we're done.

I choose a walk back to the hotel that will take us through the Jardins Luxembourg. We've spent so little time in the gardens! I want its calming grace for just these few last minutes and honestly after crisscrossing the city, I think Snowdrop will benefit from it as well.

And in the evening, we are about to go out to our last dinner. Reservation for 7 pm, it is now 6:50. The restaurant, Marco Polo, can be a bit intimidating (left bank, Italian, but on the posh side of things), but I've seen them handle little kids on my last visit there in the fall. Let's go! -- I tell Snowdrop.

Oh! She looks at me with eyes that are quickly filling with tears. We forgot the ice cream you promised! She's not entirely correct. I remembered and nudged her to consider it earlier, but she'd been absorbed in her story telling so it passed her by.

It's another "what would you do" moment and I know many of you would not play it the way I did. There's a lot to be said for shrugging it off with a Life is Tough attitude. Because, well, life is tough. Too, we're going to one of the best of our Paris restaurants and you need to bring a healthy appetite with you for dinner because otherwise -- well, what's the point. 

Nonetheless, I made a different call.

There is a gelato store just across the street from Marco Polo Restaurant. It closes soon, but there's time.

(It helps to know that the French give very, very small scoops, unlike the Italians, and certainly unlike us back home.)

At Marco Polo, she orders her fave and she scribbles and I look onto this child who's so full of emotion and earnestness and love. We write secret messages to each other and she writes I love to travel with you and I write I do with you. In code of course.

And they give her lollipops and she is surprised and pleased. She tells me -- in Italy they kept calling me principessa, in France they keep giving me extra treats...  So, the world does love children. How cool is that...

Tomorrow, we leave at dawn. Paris will be all that we'll see out the taxi window. And in the evening, if all goes well, Snowdrop will be back with her family and I will be at the farmhouse, where surely I'll have a few hours, perhaps days to reflect.

Until then, good night, with so much love!

in and around Paris

The skies have cleared somewhat, at least for the morning, but it's definitely cold by Parisian standards. No matter, by so many counts, it's a beautiful day. I'm grateful. I've long planned for this to be our day for an outing and really, this outing fares poorly when there is rain, even though, in travel, you have to take what comes your way. If the skies want to throw down snow or rain on you, well, you don't get a vote. I am, therefore, so very happy that we were dealt a cool but dry hand today!

It's the day where I ask Snowdrop to put on her new dress. This is a total favor to me and you could argue that I should just let her choose to stay with her comfortable favorites, but we'd made a deal back in Madison and so here we are -- a day for flowers. 

Breakfast, downstairs. 

I'm trying to stack up on protein because really, I have no idea how lunch will work today. Finding dinner foods is easy for this child compared to finding good lunch foods. Especially when we're on the run. We do go out to the local bakery and I try to coax her into a take-out sandwich, but she's not excited by any of it (this was entirely predictable as most sandwiches have butters, sauces, veggies, and all those other beautiful things that a child might have grave doubts about). So I buy cheesecake and mentally add fruits to the bag (thank you, dearest staff at the hotel for resupplying us with fruits!) and hope that this fills her calorie needs for the day.

We also pick up some macarons for dinner dessert. We've been skipping restaurant desserts, but a tiny sweet treat at end the day is always a special thing. Snowdrop doesn't have a real sweet tooth unless there's chocolate and especially if it comes in the shape of a macaron.

And at around noon, we come down to pick up the taxi that is to take us to the train station Gare St Lazare.

This is where the journey starts to be interesting. Meaning, things don't go according to plan.

The taxi driver, who happens to be the same one who did not know where to drop us off yesterday for the boat ride, tells me that he will take us to Gare Montparnasse. That is a train station exactly in the opposite direction to the one we want. I explain -- no, St Lazare. He answers -- sorry, I cant get there. Because of the marathon.

I knew there would be a marathon. The desk yesterday checked the hours of it and we were sure that we could sneak over just at midpoint. Apparently not. Not by this cab driver anyway. Why Montparnasse?

From there, you can take the metro to St Lazare. 

Well, that may have worked had we an hour or more to spare. There's no hope in hell that we'll make our train in that way. Even if I were willing to risk getting a positive Covid test by using a crowded metro, Montparnasse is a zoo of train lines and I dont even have a loaded metro card. So no, that wont work. Minutes are ticking away. What to do?

If we lived in Paris, we'd skip the planned trip to Giverny today and try for another time. But we dont live in Paris and it's today, with tickets in hand, or not at all. So I stop thinking about the credit card bill that will greet me upon my return to the US and tell him -- okay, can you drive us to Giverny?

Where is that?

Up the road. (haha) But first, maybe you should tell me how much this will cost.

He looks things up and comes up with a sum which seems only slightly more than a cab ride to the Venice airport from our hotel there. (That's my justification for it.) 

Okay, go for it.

It takes him an hour to get out of the city. The traffic is awful. I am grateful that no one got car sick because it certainly was that kind of a ride.

The only pleasant moment? seeing the yellow rapeseed fields of France out the window once we get out of the city...

... oh, and the joy of finally getting to the village of Giverny!

As predicted, the tourists haven't yet descended on this place, which is awfully nice for us. The first cafe we enter has tables available. I mean, how unreal is that!

Lunch was okay. Usually there are too many sauces on every dish on every menu for Snowdrop's taste, but here they had a Normandie cheese plate and she is usually happy to go with bread and cheese when all else fails. Me, I order a kir Normande. That's cider with a splash of cassis. It reminds me of old times and more importantly, it's like a big exhale. I mean, we made it!

And at 3:30, we meet Ariane. She is from Giverny and often works in the gardens. Why I should think I would benefit from this is hard to explain. Initially, I thought we could not get into Giverny this year without an escort. No tickets were being sold. So I emailed her and we set a time for our walkthrough.  I  figured Snowdrop wont care whether or not there is a person with great knowledge to explain stuff, while me -- well, maybe I'll learn something. I have questions. She'll have answers.

Ariane was very nice and indeed very knowledgable and she played to Snowdrop, engaging her at every turn. Still, later in the evening Snowdrop and I agreed that we would have been better off on our own. We would have moved at our pace. She would have been given a chance to lose herself in the magic of the gardens. 

Nonetheless, Ariane was good and Monet's gardens (which are the reason of the trip) were, as always, magnificent. Here, spend the late afternoon at Giverny with us!

Over the years, I have been so inspired by these gardens! There were times when I would come to Giverny straight from the airport. I'd overnight in the village and visit the gardens twice -- in the morning and late afternoon. I've learned that late afternoon is best. Less crowded, better light.

But I've never seen the flower beds in very early spring. 

They'd been closed for Covid and closed for the winter, opening for the first time in a while just two days ago. 

Total heaven...

(inside Monet's house: the yellow room...)

(one last one...)

Ariane is helpful in one additional way -- she takes us to the train station in Vernon at the end of the day. She says that they are planning to introduce a self-driving shuttle between Vernon and Giverny very soon. For now, getting to the train station remains a challenge.

(the train ride: so good, especially when compared to the car ride over)

The return train pulls in to Paris toward evening. We are tired and hungry of course. There are no taxis at the cab stand, so we set out to walk back to the hotel. A good 45 minute walk. Except we get lucky and a cab pulls up and we get in and boom! Over the river...

And we are home.

I'd booked a table at a restaurant that is literally a block up from our hotel door for dinner. I'd never eaten there but it's always crowded and no one seems to be complaining. Au Petit Suisse. 

Just what we need. Some chicken, haricots verts, and fries for her, some veal for me and we're done. It was a long day. With flowers and crazy cabs and in the end, grand memories. 

Tomorrow is our last day in Paris. I let her set our schedule. You'll see what she came up with for the two of us!

Good night, with love...