Paris! A Feast for the Soul
Several of my children have traveled rather extensively in Europe. My husband and I had been to Canada and to the Cayman Islands, and he had travelled for his work, but I had never been to Europe – especially to Paris, although I had taken French in high school and college. PARIS!! Just the name speaks of history, of fashion, of mystery and of the possibility of new horizons that could change one’s life.
I was in my fifties. Things were going pretty well at just that point in our lives. Our youngest child, our second son, was in high school. My parents were living with us, and they were at a stable place in their health. I was working, but I could get away. My husband decided to send our two youngest daughters and me to Paris for a week. I could hardly believe it! It was one of those gifts that one can never repay.
Plans were made; tickets and reservations were bought; the girls and I agonized over what type of clothing to pack. The airplane was full of students going on an educational trip and business people who had to go to France for work, and people like us who were traveling for pleasure. The whole experience was exciting.
We landed in PARIS!
These French people may have known how to speak English, but they wouldn’t. They all spoke French – fast! My years of French dribbled to nothingness. Our first challenge after getting through customs was finding transportation. We finally located a cab, and had to give the driver directions. I had the name and address of our hotel in my hand and kept showing it to him and telling him the name of our hotel. He nodded and started driving. We relaxed and watched in fascination at the countryside we were driving through that soon gave way to more and more city. And soon we were at the hotel. It seemed lovely, though small. Unfortunately, the hotel people had no reservations in our names. Impossible! No, True! It was morning in Paris, but it was the middle of the night back in Pittsburgh. I couldn’t get anyone at home to verify our claim to rooms. The hotel promised to hold our luggage for us until we could straighten out the situation, so the three of us found a coffee shop and spent some time sitting on pins and needles. How can one relax when one can’t communicate, has no way to get in touch with anyone who can straighten things out, and is in totally unfamiliar surroundings. I was beginning to wish I was back home.
Several hours later and several phone calls between our travel agent and the hotel and we were on our way to another hotel that had a similar name but was much less expensive and actually had our reservations. I think the girls and I were slightly disappointed, but at least it was clean, and it was in our preferred section of the city. We would make do…
The next few days were filled with doing just what we wanted to do. Except for the odd food at “good” restaurants, the language barrier, the time difference, and the snubs that the fancy French women gave us in the chic fashion district, all was well. We didn’t plan much. We got crepes for breakfast along the Seine. Sooo good! We saw Versailles. Amazing! We went to the Louvre. Fascinating! Beautiful! We ate at several nice brasseries. Good for nice lunches. We went to some of the very fine haute couture establishments. We were viewed with suspicion. We went to Notre Dame. Spiritual and Graceful! We went to Le Printemps and bought some things and ate Foie Gras. Hummmm! We went to Le Musee D”Orsay. My favorite! Gorgeous! We ran from L’ Arc de Triomphe down the Champs-Elysees to the Hard Rock Café to have a hamburger. America! We bought paintings from artists who were painting along the Seine. Love them!
We caught our plane back to New York City and then to Pittsburgh. With travel, we were gone for nine days. It turned out to be the perfect amount of time to have been away.
For weeks after that trip I had a smile on my face and a distinct feeling that I had been filled up with beauty! For a mom, such a getaway can be worth all the cost and the trouble. Sometimes, one can be worn down from just the work of living. I will always be grateful to my husband for giving me that gift.
PARIS! A Feast for the Soul!
