Versailles and Paris goodbye

Mark and I had digestive tract distress overnight. Mark, more so than I. He also had fever, chills, and body ache. I felt okay in the morning. Was it something we ate? Mark also thought he had a bit of a sore throat. He had been achy yesterday, but he thought it was a product of all the walking we did. In light of how he was feeling, we thought it would be best to leave him at the hotel while we visited Versailles. Off, the kids and I went. We needed to take the metro to an RER train station. We had some problems. First of all, my metro passes didn't seem to want to work. Often I had to trade them in. Perhaps it was because I stores them in pockets that were close to my phone or other magnetized devices. Once we got past that hurdle, we needed to find a place to buy train tickets to Versailles. Finding ticket offices is not always intuitive, but I finally found one. I bought the kids an all day pass for €7 which they could use on RER or metro.
We were plenty early for Versailles which was intentional. We could peruse the Notre Dame Market. Being a Saturday, only the indoor stands were open; nobody was set up on the outside. The market has buildings that surround an open air square. Entrance to the buildings are on the faces rather than the corners of the square, so each of the four buildings are L-shaped. We had been to many markets this trip. My awe in these places matches the awe I have in cathedrals. I should have taken pictures, but we were the only ones in the market, and I was feeling shy to ask to take pictures, especially since we weren't really there to buy. In retrospect, I should have done it. The markets held seafood, meats, flowers, produce, cheeses, fresh pastas, and wine. Since we were looking for breakfast items, the kids were disappointed. I, however, couldn't get over the selection. Imagine walking home from work and stopping at the market to buy ingredients for dinner. There were types of fish I'd never seen before and the cheeses---how does one choose? The town of Versailles didn't seem so large to have such assortment. I am going to be a little sad next time I go to an American supermarket-- in spite of all the variety of boxed, bottled, and jarred items that are available to us. Maybe I need to make Green Dragon a habit. If only it was as neatly contained as the Versailles market.
Around the perimeter of the market were other shops, and we easily located a patisserie. Pain au Chocolate and a few other treats. Then we headed to Versailles. Th tour buses were already arriving even though the Chateau wasn't open yet. We waited in the courtyard and took pictures. Eventually we made it inside to the sumptuousness that awaited. Such grandeur is almost unimaginable. And to think they were redecorating these rooms constantly. The fabrics, the statues, the painted ceilings, the chandeliers, the guilded and carved moldings: it was all too much for the modern eye. I began to think about our hotel room which has a delicious spareness to it. In our modern world, we are constantly barraged with images on our screens and magazines that our brains need a break. But in the days of Louis, Louis, Louis, human brains didn't have digital and print stimulation. What enjoyment they must have received staring into the storied murals. They also served as propaganda: Greek gods and goddesses underscoring the fact that being royalty was ordained by the heavens. I thought about all the artists used to make such a place into a reality. Most of those artists were anonymous carvers, painters, etc. In the 21st centuries our artists are busy with different kinds of propaganda through all the media we devour. I understand better my desire for a minimalist cottage.
After touring the royal apartments, we went to Angelina's tea room (in the chateau) for hot chocolate and their signature dessert, Monte Blanc. I had been promising Maren this gourmet Chocolat Chaud since before we left. Each cup was about €8, but I couldn't back out. The drinks came in pitchers accompanied by a little bowl of whipped cream. We poured them into our cups and drank. The first sips were magical, but it quickly became too much--even for Maren. Then came the Monte Blanc. I can't actually describe this dessert other than that it was overly sweet. We each ate two bites, enjoying none, but feeling as though we had to make a dent in it. In the end, Maren did not finish her hot chocolate and said that she was swearing off the drink. Hard to believe.
We did not have tickets to the gardens, fountain show, and Marie Antoinette's little manor. We could have bought them, but we wanted to get back to Mark. We could see some of the gardens from the windows of the royal apartments and took a few pictures from ground level. With that, we made our way back to central Paris. We were hoping to see a crepe stand on our way back to the train, but no such luck. With all the sweet ickiness, we consumed, we needed the salt and protein of a ham and cheese crepe to balance it out. My digestive system was not happy.
At 12:00, When we were about 100 feet from our hotel we saw Mark who was coming out to get a croissant to hopefully settle his empty stomach. I was exhausted and was dashing for a bathroom. Mark took the kids to the McDonalds which was two blocks away from our hotel. They were in search of salty fries. I don't like McDonald's in our country, so it was pretty sacrilegious for me to turn away while they went for their fries, but I was not in any shape to be battling for my ideals.
I went straight to the room to nap. When the rest came back to the room, we all napped and/or read for about 2 1/2 hours. It was a much needed rest and break from our heavy sightseeing schedule.
After our rest, we had a free afternoon. We encouraged the kids to go off by themselves as long as they were together. Jonah patiently took Maren shopping. Mark and I climbed the 270 steps to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. With a sense of accomplishment, we looked out over the city at the end of our journey and noted all the places where we walked. My guess is that we hit 15 of the 20 arrondissements. We descended our perch and found a cute little wine bar on a side street. I had some onion soup for my salt fix/ late lunch. It was a nice relaxed way to spend our last afternoon, watching the people pass on the street and sharing our collected insights on our journey.
After about two hours out and about, we reconvened in our room, all arriving within five minutes of one another. Maren found a ruffled black sundress she loved, and spent the last of her money. I journaled while the kids read. Mark took yet another nap to try to shake whatever it was that he had. I was really excited about the last night dinner reservations I had made for Chez Gabrielle. The place was around the corner from our hotel, and Mark and I had scoped out the menu on the way back to the room. So, imagine my disappointment when we got there at 8:30, and they didn't have the reservation that I had made through thefork.com. It was a tiny place and there was no way they could accommodate us. We went back to the hotel. I talked to the concierge who found us a similar place to eat nearby. It wasn't the same, but we would make do. P'tit Bouchon had a red/gold interior, a circus theme, and it seemed to be occupied by locals. Mark and the kids were skeptical at the French menu, which I interpreted somewhat for them. I was still disappointed that we weren't at the other restaurant and then alternately disappointed that I wasn't on this trip with fellow foodies. I sat there not wanting to say anything. The kids ordered cheeseburgers with foie gras and frites. Mark ordered filet of beef and mashed potatoes. I ordered foie gras appetizer and sole meunière. The foie gras was good but very rich. I could only eat about half my serving, and nobody else wanted to try it. Luckily it came with a light salad to cut the richness. Our plats (main dishes) came. (Entree is the word for appetizer in French). The kids ate the burgers, not complaining about the foie gras on them, but Jonah did complain about the vegetables on his. Mark ate slowly. The beef was rare-- which he liked, but he ordered it Medium. French like their meats rarer than we do. Mark still wasn't feeling 100%, so this dinner, at this time of night, was an effort for him. My sole arrived whole and with unfamiliar silverware. Our waitress asked if I wanted her to plate it for me. I should have taken a video of the way she fileted it with the provided utensils, one of which looked like a flat spoon. It was delicious, but there were still fine bones, around which I had to negotiate. I also received a bowl of assorted steamed vegetables: something in the broccoli family, string beans, fennel, pea pods, and carrots. Still, I just wanted to finish and get back to the room--especially since my dining companions were really dragging. We talked about wanting to see our pug again and being glad that he was the kind of dog that would be happy to see us after a long trip. We had reached reached our vacation saturation point-- happy to have had the trip and ready now for home.
Our last gifts from the hotel fairies was a magnetic bookmark which said, "I read in Paris." We all agreed that it belonged to Jonah. As late as it was, we packed and got ready for our early morning departure. We had had a memorable adventure but it was now time to take our memories with us into everyday life.

From Giverny to the Louvre

Today we were visiting Giverny, where Monet lived and painted his famous water lilies. We had to get up really early, but we weren't moving too quickly after the previous day's activities. Mark had been the one to plan when we had to get up, but I neglected to tell him all that our morning entailed. It wasn't until we were walking toward the metro that I even knew what time it was. Our pastry place wasn't open, and Mark said it was 7:45. Really? We had to get the metro to Gare St. Lazare, get money, purchase our overland train tickets, and get on board by 8:20. We started moving faster, but it didn't seem like it was going to happen. We couldn't find money machine. Then we couldn't find the ticket booth at the train station. We ran to it, only to see a great and slow-moving line. One woman stepped out of line ahead of us, and we were called to the counter. It was just in the nick of time that we made our transaction, ran to the platform, put our tickets though the yellow machine that checked us in, and got seated on the train to Vernon. There were other trains to Vernon that day, but it would have been perhaps another hour, and by that time, there would be a lot of tour buses at Giverny. On the train, we got to relax for the 45 minute ride.
Once in Vernon, we got a bus to Giverny. That took another 20 minutes. The village itself is everything you want in a French village. Really, you just want to buy a home there and spend your days puttering and eating French cheeses. Charming and picturesque-- once you subtract the tourists. We had to walk perhaps a 1/2 mile from the bus to the Claude Monet's house and our destination, but it was a chance to be nosy and peer into gardens. It was a grey day but that hardly mattered here. Once at Monet's house, we had our first views of the gardens which were huge, symmetrical, ordered, bright, cheery, colorful, and most importantly-- in bloom. The pink and purple tulips especially played off the pink house with the green trim. The house itself is decorated in sunny pastels. It seems like you are inside Monet's palette. Interestingly enough, the walls are covered in his collection of Japanese art prints, which seem to take the rooms from a confectionery atmosphere to something more like bright seriousness. You can imagine a happy family living here. Happy and cheerful are the two words that kept playing in my head. Especially the lemon yellow dining room and kitchen with its blue and white tiles and long array of gleaming copper pots. I wanted to cook and eat there. I wanted to paint. I wanted to let someone else deal with the gardening.
The path to the water lily pond passed under a road. Along the path, bamboo acted as a divider to give the pond some secretive walls. Fencing along the path was also made up of bamboo-- a nod to Monet's love of the oriental aesthetic perhaps. The paths were beautifully cultivated and landscaped. The pond itself was rather dreary. I was expecting a red bridge. Why? It it was painted the same bright green as the rest of the garden hardscape (the same color as the chairs in the Jardin de Tuileries.). We took the requisite bridge pictures (I promised some of my 5th grade students at Reamstown Elementary that I would send one such picture to them) and a few cool panorama shots. We have been taking a bunch of panoramas on the trip, though I am not sure what we will do with them. The row boat was parked opposite the bridge, almost as if it were forgotten. Still, you could imagine Monet's daughters taking it out in the afternoons. We bought a few ornaments before heading out. The bus tours were starting to pile in. Lots of Japanese tourists who really liked the prints inside.
We had skipped breakfast in all the hubbub of trying to catch our train, so we stopped to eat an early lunch. Lots of shops have baguette sandwiches made and in their shop windows early in the day. They always look so good and the baguettes really hold up well. Maren and I had smoked salmon, cream cheese, lettuce, and caper sandwiches. Mark's baguette sandwich had camembert, blueberry, arugula in a Dijon vinaigrette. Jonah, who prefers absolutely no traces of vegetables got a ham and cheese on croissant.
It was a leisurely walk back to our bus. From there we got the train back to Paris. First stop after getting back was the fencing store. It was a disappointment from the start. We were locked out and had to knock to be let it. There wasn't much beyond basic supplies to buy. The only t-shirt had a female fencer on it. Jonah felt obliged to buy something so he bought an expensive pair of thigh-high fencing socks. We made fun of him for that. Next we went to Printemps and Galleries Lafayette. We spent a good deal of time wandering through. The style and layouts are different than US department stores. Maren liked the bathing suits. I liked seeing the housewares and furniture. We looked through clothing, took in the views from the roof. The food court at Lafayette was overwhelming. I tried my first taste of foie gras. I considered buying a €28 jar of it, but didn't know how well it would fare in my luggage on the way home. The only other time I had foie gras was in an exclusive restaurant in Atlanta. We also bought macaroons in our traditional choice flavors of: vanilla, chocolate, coffee, raspberry. These cookies were so delicious and very concentrated in their flavors. It seems that way for all Paris treats-- flavors are so intense that you only need a taste to be satisfied, from coffee to ice cream to cookies to appetizers.
It was still relatively early when we were done shopping, so we decided to go to the Louvre. The Louvre is open late on Fridays. It would be possible to go after dinner, but it was about 3 hours before the early dinner hour in Paris. Late dinner is at about ten. The Louvre is so overwhelming and big that we went in with Rick Steve's audio tour to get the absolutely bare bones highlights. We concentrated on Greek Sculpture and Italian and French painting. This would give us the trio of grand ladies everyone goes to see: the Venus de Milo, Nike of Samothrace and the Mona Lisa. The Louvre feels more obligatory than anything. We enjoyed our whirlwind tour except for Jonah who gets very annoyed at Rick Steve's attempt at humor. We were once again at the end of our day, tired and hungry. I had scouted out some places, and we headed toward one, even though it was about a mile away.
The place I had picked out did not appear to be serving. It was open, and the door was open, but nobody was there. It was already 7. So we went around the corner to a brasserie. We were among the first there for dinner. Maren got escargot (her favorite food) and penne with tomato and basil sauces. Jonah got a skirt steak with onion gravy and fries. Mark couldn't decide between the duck with mashed potatoes or the veal on fettuccine in a pan sauce. I agreed to get one of them, and we would split them both. We were all pleased with our choices. Mark and I liked our veal dish best, but they were both excellent. We took the metro home and opened our complimentary bottle of wine. Kids read and we wrote and did things on our tablet. We were too tired for more than one glass of wine. Bedtime was nigh. Our gift from the hotel fairies was a luggage tag.

Paris: Walk Until You Drop

We started the day with five pain de chocolate. Five, because there was a special. I had a cup of cafe créme, but it wasn't up to the standards I remembered. We took the metro to the Notre Dame area to begin the Rick Steve's Historical walking tour. We saw Pointe Zero (the geographical and historical center of Paris). We also took in the faces of Notre Dame. It is hard to conceive of the faith required to begin building a church that will only be finished 200 years later. The interior was awe-inspiring, but by this point we have been in so many churches that it is hard to compare. They are all different. France is a Catholic nation, so there is that difference. Also, the gift shops, etc seem to be more in the actual sanctuary which kind of sullies the spiritual setting, but if you get beyond them (they are close to the entrances) you can lose yourself in the Cathedral. There was an early morning worship service going on in the center quire area. It was nice to hear the singing as we sauntered around. Flanking the outer aisles are little chapels. It gives the effect of having a lot of little churches in one big space. The church at large is dedicated to Mary (Notre Dame) so images of her are central, as in the center of one of the rose windows, but the side chapels are dedicated to other saints. A supplicant can go to different areas depending on his or her need for worship and petition. Near the entrance are also the confessionals, but France is not heavily under the spell of the Pope. They do Catholicism their own way. The confessionals are like little glass offices where people go for counseling and help. Christianity feels very different in Europe than it does in the states. It is mixed in with much of the pagan lore that was there before Christianity. Often, the churches are on sites of ancient pagan worship. And with the degree of art, the church feels more cultural and less moralistic than it does in the States. That said, there is still a terrible history of blood and war that goes along with the state-sanctioned religion in Europe. But I will admit that, with the exception of Sacre Coeur, I felt at peace and in awe in the churches I have been to on this trip.
The next big stop on the walking tour was the English bookstore Shakespeare and Company. This shop is unlike any other bookshop. With used and new books stacked everywhere, it has the feel of a hoarder's house, but there is method in the chaos. In many places are bits of paper, poetry that people have posted. I put a small poem in an upstairs writing nook. Writers can live and work here for free. I know that SARK did this once. Not sure what the arrangements are like. There is a lending library. While only an incarnation of Sylvia Beech's original store, there is still an echo of the ghosts of the Lost Generations among the stacks. I bought a volume of poetry by the recently departed Adrienne Rich. It is a definitely a place in which you want to lose yourself, if you weren't limited in your time in Paris.
Our next stop was supposed to be Saint Chapelle, but the line was very long. If we had already bought our Paris Museum Passes, like we wanted to (we couldn't find the office when we got here, and our concierge at the hotel had a high markup) we could have fast tracked our way inside. We decided to go eat lunch. This particular lunch was one of my most anticipated meals of the trip. L'as du Falafel. We walked into the Marais district which is known as the Jewish district and has a growing gay presence. It houses some really great clothing shops and galleries. It was fun to just window shop which is what I did while Mark tried to read the map and get us where we are going. Mark's city map skills are terrible. He gets himself all turned around, but I keep following him. Mostly because if I had the map and made the least little misstep he would take it from me anyway. It is better for him to have the map and for me to look at all the windows while he is blindly leading us in wrong directions. Eventually he will get us where we are going.
We did get to our sandwich shop. It was worth the wait. I think I have a new favorite sandwich. Sorry, Philly cheesesteak. (Did I actually say that?) I got the falafel special which is falafel, cabbage, cucumber, eggplant, onions on pita with a load of yogurt sauce. Jonah and Maren had a similar sandwich made with chicken and lamb. Mark had the same with a curried chicken base. The kids picked off all their eggplant, and I got to eat that, too. I love eggplant. A basket of fries for the table, and we were good to go.
Before returning to our walking tour, we stopped for ice cream cones at Berthillion on Isle Saint-Louis. The ice cream scoops were tiny but so flavorful. I had banana and coffee. Mark had coffee and white chocolate. Maren had chocolate and strawberry. She declared her strawberry more delicious than her amazing chocolate. Jonah had vanilla and white chocolate. We retraced our steps back to Isle de la Cite and entered into the Deportation Memorial, a monument to the 200,000 French victims of Nazi concentration camps. As you can imagine, it is a stark and chilling presence but with the inclusion of a channel of 200,000 little
squares of light, hope is also a presence.
After lunch the line to Saint Chapelle was much better. The actual line is a security checkpoint because the chapel is in the courtyard of the Palais du Justice-- a governmental building. We got our museum passes. Only Mark and I had to buy them because kids under 18 get in free to museums in Paris. They were doing restoration on the Church. This is a museum-only church now. Compared to Notre Dame around the same period, this large scale gothic cathedral only took 5 years to build. The exterior walls are nothing fantastic. They were built as a frame to the gorgeous stained glass. It was a gray day, so we didn't get the full scope of the sunlight through the windows, but the scale and detail of all the windows is beyond belief. They tell every story in the Bible. The church was built to house the relic of the crown of thorns which was acquired by France during the crusades. Now the crown is housed at Notre Dame. The crown is the focus of this cathedral. Maren especially liked the cathedrals on this trip.
From Saint Chapelle, we walked (and walked) along the Seine, past the Louvre, though the Jardin deTullieres to the L'Orangerie which houses the huge in-the-round Monet waterlily paintings. Nothing can describe these paintings. I looked in the gift shop for posters and long postcards but nothing did them justice. The colors on the walls are so alive, they may just be breathing.
We took time to look at the rest of the paintings in this smallish museum. My back was really having trouble. Mark's was hurting, too, but I was having awful twinges every time I stepped off a curb. I was afraid that it was going to go out. Several times, I thought it had. We were all pretty tired by this point, but we had one more museum.
The d'Orsay, a museum of mostly Impressionism and post-Impressionism, is open late on Thursdays. It is housed in an old train station. We again stood in lines for security, but this moved fast, and as in l'Orangerie, our museum passes moved us pretty close to the front of the lines. The d'Orsay was having a huge exhibition of Degas Nudes. We walked through that. I went more slowly because I was fascinated by Degas' changing techniques. He has always been one of my favorite painters. The rest finished ahead of me and were waiting outside the exhibit. We made a plan to meet in an hour because they couldn't handle my slow pace. We were all beyond exhausted and sore when we met at the lion sculpture at 7 pm. Off we went to find the metro station to home. But we couldn't find the one we wanted which was near the Egyptian Obelisk. The Arc de Triomphe was in sight with the Champs Élysées, some of Paris's best shopping, between us and it. We decided to walk for a little while and take it in. Little did we know, we would walk the rest of the way back. We really wish we had had a pedometer for this day. With the exception of running my one marathon and giving birth, I don't think I have ever been as physically exhausted as I was at the end of this day.
We picked a little place near our hotel to eat dinner. In reality, it wasn't a good choice--probably the Hoss's of Paris but we were beyond choosiness in our hunger and fatigue. Jonah and I had ribs, sausage, and unlimited mashed potatoes. He put the limits to the test. Mark had steak tartare and frites. They asked him three times to make sure he understood it was uncooked. Maren had sausage and fries. We also all got dessert except mashed potato boy. I had crime brûlée. Mark had chocolate mousse and Maren had sorbet, which is her new favorite thing.
We went back to the hotel to see what the fairies left us. At this hotel we get presents on our pillow. First night was a picture holder clip. Tonight was a little diamond paperweight. We have been so tired. The kids haven't had showers. Maren's hair keeps getting
bigger each day. But we sleep like rocks. Not a peep out of us.

First Views of Paris-- Montmartre and the Eiffel Tower

We woke at 5:30. Finished packing though we had done most of it the night before, and caught our last tube train to St. Pancras where we needed to catch the Eurostar Train. Breakfast was Starbucks in the station. I really hate the fact that we had to resort to Starbucks. It is everywhere!
The Eurostar journey was 2 hours, but add an extra hour for the time difference in Paris. We read, slept, and journaled. The time passed really quickly. At the train station in Paris we bought 4 carnets (bundles of ten metro tickets) for the metro. Then we headed for our hotel: Mariott Renaissance at Arc de Triomphe. We had no problem finding it, but we probably looked like a line of ducklings following one another with our matching rolling bags.
Our room was not ready for us so we parked our bags.
We took the metro back the way we came to Blanche to have lunch and begin the audio walking tour of Montmartre I complied and recorded. First was lunch. We went to the Cafe de Deux Moulins which is where Amalie was filmed. Lunch did a lot to revive us all. Kids had cheeseburgers and fries. I had croque Monsieur and Mark had Croque Madame. Plus we had some red wine. The waitress joked with us.
We started the walking tour on much better footing. We saw the Moulin Rouge before turning our attention to the Montmartre cemetery where many famous artists including Degas were buried. The problem was that the 11 hectare plot was surrounded by a high wall. We walked the entire perimeter before finding the secret entrance. The cemetery was cool and quite beyond the usual that we see in the States. The above-ground vaults were a mix of old and new. We were off to find Degas at the opposite end of the yard. The problem was that the cemetery had a few different levels. We walked in the direction of Degas but came to a drop-off. Degas was on the other side, but we would have needed a bridge to get there. By this time, I was ready to quit, but Mark insisted we find Degas's grave. When we finally found it (Jonah wins the prize), we almost missed it because the crypt was engraved "de Gas". Maren posed in front of in the 14-year-old little ballerina pose.
And off we went. Along the tour we saw famous restaurants and dance halls frequented by Impressionist artists and Picasso. The streets wound upward toward Sacre Coeur. We saw houses and studios where Van Gogh and Picasso lived and worked. Finally, we reached the highest point in Paris, the Basilica of Sacre Coeur. Here, we saw our first, slightly tree obstructed, view of the Eiffel Tower. The church itself felt very commercialized and not very holy. We had an icky feeling. We continued onward toward the Dali museum and were accosted by women trying to get us to sign a petition. They didn't speak English. They kept pointing to a handicap symbol on the page and the words blind and deaf. But I knew they were pickpockets. They try to get you to hold a clipboard and sign while they reach in your pockets. I had not heard of this exact ploy. The one I heard is where they try to tie a friendship bracelet on you. But the effect is the same. After many a loud, "Non" they left us alone. Our cash was pretty well battened down in our secret pockets anyway. We finished our tour with the Art Noveau style of the Metro entrance at Abbesses.
From Abbesses we took the metro back to Ternes which is near our hotel. We made a detour into the Rue de Poncelet Market. We bought camembert aux truffes, wine, sweet biscuits, Maren's requisite pear, and a demi baguette.
Back at the hotel, our room was ready. It is a modern room with a small one seat balcony and one bathroom. We are used to two bathrooms now so this should be interesting. The room came with a complimentary bottle of wine and some chocolate almonds/coffee beans. The bed spreads are white with grey and red accented pillows and throws. Dark paneled cupboards. White wallpaper with pale gray and very large Japanese style floral motifs. We were able to unpack a little and get organized before we were off for our next adventure.
We walked to the Trocadéro area and across to the top of the steps by the Esplanade du Trocadéro and had a grand view of the Eiffel Tower. We chose a park bench along the park path to the tower and sat and ate our dinner. The trees were flowering pink. Skies were gray and spritzing a bit now and then. After eating we walked to the tower, taking pictures all along the way. The lines were long due to an elevator that was out of order. We chose to walk up the 700 steps instead of waiting. Hard to believe we paid as much as we did to have to climb all those stairs. The 700 stairs gave us access to the first two levels. I thought we bought the ticket to allow elevator access to the top, but we did not. Oh well. We had good views from the mid level. The stairs were hard but not impossible. We stopped at the first level to catch our breaths. Of course, the kids ran up ahead. We took pictures including some panoramas, but we didn't stay too long because we wanted to come down and see the tower light up at the top of the hour. It was getting dark. We started our climb around 8. 8:30 was sunset, but it was too cloudy to see any colors. So, down we came. We passed by the carousels on our way back to the Esplanade du Trocadéro. The kids practiced taking pictures with various shutter speeds in the dimming light. In the background, a marching band played songs by Frank Sinatra and the Beatles. Mark and I opened our market wine and put some in our water bottle. The kids, who were very tired when we had started our journey, were very animated with the lights and the camera. The 9 pm (first of the night) light show itself was nice, but limited to ten minutes of twinkling. The night had the feel of Fourth of July but not quite the show. Still-- this was the Eiffel Tower, which started with more style points than a blank night sky.
Afterwards, we checked out some souvenir shops outside and in the metro station. Maren just loves tacky little souvenir shops. She didn't buy anything, but Jonah bought a n Eiffel Tower key chain. The girl he may possibly ask to prom is an Eiffel Tower freak-- it is the wallpaper on her Facebook page. I think she has been there.
Back at the hotel, we went straight to bed. This seems to be a theme with us.

My Bad Techno-romance

A lot has changed in my life since my book came out. I started substitute teaching. My running time has slowed to something just above a walk. (I continue to call it running because I am breathing hard.) Three years ago, I created a Facebook page-- ostensibly to help create some momentum for the Lancaster Literary Guild web page. In reality, the Facebook page, along with the iPhone I got around the same time, has reshaped my daily life. Whereas previously, I could not even remember to take my cell phone with me-- I now keep a death-grip on the thing. My electronic self and physical self are Siamese Twins. Of course, I had to buy an iPad. My new obsession only larger. For my ADD mind, these devices are both saint and demon. They help me with the tasks I need to plow through, but I believe that they have also rewired my brain so that I have an even greater difficulty focusing and being present. When it comes to details, I am slipping. I had a great memory for details, but now my husband says I am unreliable if we are talking about anything in the last 3 years. I am still allowed to win arguments when the facts in the case date prior to 2009.


More recently, I have begun to see technology as a Hydra monster. As soon as I master one branch of it, nine new offshoots take its place. Helping my son through his college search, planning a family vacation to Europe. I can find any information I want, but ultimately that information leads me down five other paths until I have a hard time finding my way out. Enter into this a new mission to make my author self a force in the digital world. I am overwhelmed. It isn't enough to have Twitter and Facebook and a web page; they must all be linked. I need to create creative, dynamic content. I recently talked (who am I kidding?—we conversed on Facebook inbox.) to an author friend of mine. She said that she spends more time on social media than actual writing. That thought almost sent me to live under my covers. It isn't that I don't like Facebook. I do. I am thinking of having the post office forward my mail there. But the thought that the world of writing has evolved into this computer game where you rack up points for followers and only have so many lives to keep in the game is scary and unappealing.

I finished reading A Moveable Feast by Hemingway. I was reading it because we are getting ready to journey to Paris. When I think about the romance of Paris, it will forever include images of writers sitting in cafes with their cafe crèmes and their notebooks with a few sharp pencils and their own words for company. That is something to long for. This longing for stillness, for knowing our own minds and finding out our own identities under this madness of technology, is a theme in the novel I am writing. If the world keeps spinning the way it is, I think it will wind up in the fantasy section.