Nirvana in a Baby Bottle with a Flying Egg

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Paris, Aug. 31

By Dan

Note: we were a little slow in finding an internet connection, so this is late in being posted.

Paris has continued to be all of the classic stuff: cathedrals, museums, palaces, wine in baby bottles (what?? OK, I’ll get to that later. . . .), and a total flurry of cultures, sights, smells, and experiences. With only the minor hiccups that you’d expect from 8 and 10 year olds, the kids still are proving to be first class travelers. Thus far, we haven’t quite managed to slow the pace down to their level, as we promised to do, but wait ‘til tomorrow! However, they’re hanging tough, scoring well on the periodic pop quiz (yes, they’re listening!), and making each other laugh.

The Musee d’Orsay remains a spectacular collection of 19^th century art. Abby has declared her preference for realistic stuff over impressionist, so she and I stuck largely with the sculptures. Grayson found nirvana (and I don’t mean the band) later the same day when he and I went to the military museum at Les Invalides. We never did make it to Napoleon’s tomb, because he was so absorbed in the WWI and WWII artifacts. It has been officially declared The Best Museum in the World by one 10 year old. (Time will tell whether the Normandy stuff can supplant it.) The Louvre was jam packed with visitors (most of whom were French, it seemed, and remarkably few of whom were American), but we managed to hit some of the hot spots. I think the kids were entirely unimpressed with the Mona Lisa, and kept asking what was so great about it. Truthfully, I couldn’t really give them a good answer. Drawing on my one college art class (not to brag, but I recall acing it), I was able to pass on some of the distinctions between 15^th and 16^th century painting. Be sure to ask the kids next time you see them. . . . A bigger highlight for the kids was the game of hide and go seek they played in the maze of hedges in the Tuileries gardens while Christina and I soaked up some sun and “unstressed” some more . . . .

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My traveling companions have all been good sports about allowing me to relive some of the glory days of my six months in France during college. The kids were pretty amused to hear about the BEAT CAL banner we hung from the Arc de Triomphe, and nobody complained when we made a pilgrimage to a restaurant in Montmartre that had been the scene of a memorable evening 20+ years ago. The very funky fondue place was still there, still served wine (and jus d’orange for the kids) in baby bottles (complete with rubber nipples), still had people climb over the table to get to their seats against the wall, and still had patrons smoking like chimneys. I’m pretty sure I had less wine this time, but we all had fun. We followed that with one of those magical experiences that you just luck upon – sitting with 100 other people of about 20 nationalities on the steps in front of Sacre Coeur as darkness fell, listening to some guys playing music. I’m not the kids quite have the same appreciation, but Christina and I exchanged knowing looks that said, “This is special and to be remembered.”

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Part of the fun of staying in an apartment is that you feel closer to the real world. Walking down the street to the Monoprix for some provisions, I realized that I was starting to recognize some of the locals from my neighborhood. The kids learned about interpersonal relationships, when we were all awake at 2 am as some guys downstairs on the street made a huge racket. The people across the street on the 3^rd floor scared them off by throwing about a dozen raw eggs at them. Watch out, Orinda neighbors: our kids now know how to solve issues with loud neighbors! It’s a good thing that our kids don’t speak any French, as they would have learned a lot of new vocabulary.

As we leave Paris, I keep thinking that we’ll be back, and it is with sadness that I remember that we won’t. At least on this trip.