Paris

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...

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...