My three-hour daily commute sometimes feels pointless. I try to make the best of it and some days it’s only the paycheck that makes it worthwhile. But that changed earlier this month when I finally took the hours invested on the road listening to French language CDs, and spent them in France! The crazy idea started as a guilt-trip from my then studying-abroad daughter that went something like this, “Come on, Mom, you know you’ve always wanted to go to France. My Prof said we should spend extra time abroad, and you know you want to join me for a few days. When else would you do it?"
“Tara, you know I don’t have the time or the money for that stuff right now. I’m still getting back on track…” I gave the standard spiel I use whenever I want to wiggle out of expensive requests from my kids. “We’ll have lots of opportunities later.”
“Yeah. I really see you going after your dreams, Mom. You’re always going to talk about it and you’re never going to do it.”
Ouch. She’d gone right for my pride.
I booked a flight.
We planned to meet in Brussels, where my daughter had finished her formal studies the day before. I was equipped with Google maps and a manual transmission. The combination gave us the opportunity to visit parts of Brussels the usual tourist wouldn’t get to see. My final impression: nice city, bad road signs. My basic knowledge of French and some very kind gas station attendants saved us.
Paris was much easier to navigate. Better signage, a map, and the Seine guided us into the Fifth Arrondissement. Our hostel (note that this is different from a hotel – something that booking.com does not differentiate) was only a few blocks from Notre Dame, the first stop on our two-day tour of Paris. Later, we ate at a sidewalk café across from the cathedral, where a saucy waiter managed to connive a kiss on the cheek from me.
The highlight of the day was the 9:40pm cruise along the Seine. La Vie En Rose played softly over the speakers as we came upon the Tour d’Eiffel, making the night so completely, amazingly French. It was a pinch-yourself-to-make-sure-you’re-not-dreaming moment. A double scoop of gelato and the purchase of an authentic Parisian scarf in the Latin Quarter completed our night.
We started Day 2 with a true continental breakfast. My favorite was brie cheese and strawberry jam slathered on a croissant. Then off to the Louvre. We made sure to see Mona, Venus, and Ramses, but had to cut it short for a stroll along the Champs Elysées. We were headed for the Arc de Triomphe, but got sidetracked for a late lunch.
We then decided to take the train to Versaille to see the palace there. We kept our visit short, bought some souvenirs, and zipped back to Paris. We found ourselves in the shopping district with no time to shop! We cut through the Jardin du Luxembourg on the way back to our room, making the usual stops for dinner and gelato on the way through. As authors, we’re taught to bring all five senses into our stories. That night as we were trying to sleep, this lesson came to mind. Our sandals were covered with the white dust from the gardens of Paris. The dirt carries a distinct odor – not stinky, but very pungent. There was no sleeping until we washed our shoes and got rid of the smell!
The next day brought one of the funniest memories of our trip. I’d chosen our hotel because it offered parking, something that is at a premium in Paris. It added 26 Euros per night to our bill, but I was happy to pay – until we experienced the parking garage. It spiraled four stories straight underground, with parking for maybe six cars on each level. The elevator was broken, so the manager let us know we’d have to walk out the same way we’d come in – a narrow passage the width and height of one car, completely dark, with only a remote control with which to escape into daylight through an automatic door. The situation would never be condoned in America. The lawyers wouldn’t have it. That’s what made it so deliciously dangerous. The light from my cell phone shining against the rock wall guided us out on arrival day, and in on our final morning. Top it off with a jolting drive to the top in the stick shift, scared out of my mind that I wouldn’t be able to keep the car from rolling back into the pit while we waited for the door to lurch open, and you have the most exciting moment of my very dull life in perhaps ten or more years. Ah, Paris!
The best part of France for us was our time in the Val du Loire. Safe on the rural roads, we loved our trip into Vouvray and our stay at the Chateau de Jallanges. We visited Ambois and the castle there, then ate a very late supper at an authentic French tavern in Rochecorbon. There was no English on the menu, so we chose randomly just for fun. We were served raw salmon and raw beef, presented beautifully on garnished platters. The salmon was very good, but the beef was our favorite. And of course the meal came with a basket of French fries. Tres magnifique!
We hated to leave the countryside, and had we stayed another night, would have needed an extradition order to get us back to the States. Maybe it was the restored Chateau reminding us of another era, or the adorable donkey (we think this is the donkey that inspired the character in Shrek), or the two geese that accompanied us on our walk, or the son of the owners (the Successor, his father called him) that chased the geese away, or the incredible roses climbing the garden trellises… all made it nearly impossible to leave.
But we loaded our luggage, bid our new friends farewell and traveled on to Blois. We toured the very eclectic castle, then continued on our way back to Brussels for our return flight the next day. 
The moment we cherished most was boarding the flight from Amsterdam to Detroit. Like Dorothy in Oz, we two American women gallivanting across Europe came to realize there is no place like home!
The more I experience in life, the more I have to write about! I think there’s a new series in this somewhere….
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