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.

Something Wicked This way Comes: Last day in London

Our last day of London. We got to sleep in a little bit. The kids have been really good about getting up early. I think this morning's wake up call may have been 7:30. We bought some pastries. Our group usually divides up this way: Maren gets chocolate, Jonah and I get lemon or cheese, and Mark gets blueberry or almond. I got my first cup of coffee at an outdoor stand. It was really good latte with a decorative foam. Then, we left for the metro and overland train station to Leavesden (a suburb of London where the Warner Bros studios are located, and where, for ten years, they filmed the Harry Potter films.)
This is the first week that the Harry Potter sets are open to the public. We saw them online and bought tickets. Tickets soon sold out for the four days we were to be in London. The day was overcast with periods of rain, so this was the perfect itinerary. We are very train savvy by this point. The kids are a wonder with their Oyster cards. Only one time did we get separated. The trains were crowded. I said go-go-go. Mark said no-no-no. The doors closed behind me, and off I went. I waited for the crew at the next station. It was fine, but from then on, we made sure that each family member knew our destination point. The kids are great at reading tube maps. If a city is safe, I would have no qualms about letting them travel by themselves. Good thing: we are training them to be independent people.
At the Watford Junction station, we got the WB bus, a double decker bus that was decorated with Harry Potter graphics. At the studios, we were a little early for our tour times so we spent time playing with the wands in the gift store. Love that store. I forgot that Maren has not had a chance to experience the wands yet. The rest of us all got to play with them down in Orlando at Universal Studios. I love how creative they made this one aspect of the story. (We would find out that the wand artistry only began in about the third film.) Our tour started at 10:30, and we didn't get out of it until 2. It was mainly self-guided. We were all enthralled. I cannot even begin to describe it. Jonah took pictures. Let us just say he took more pictures here than during the rest of our London trip combined. There was so much to see and experience. It was magical and intense. To think of all the detail that goes into such a movie. I was looking at the art work and graphics. Mark was checking out set design and building. Jonah had his eye on special effects and model making. Maren was all about acting and costume. (I think between the four of us, we could make an awesome movie.) The sets, props, costumes, and CGI were so detailed. We need to watch the films again with renewed appreciation. Among the sets we saw: The Great Hall, Gryffindor Great room, Griffindor boy's dormitory, Hagrid's Hut, Ministry of Magic, outside 4 Privet Drive, the Burrows, Dumbledore's Office, potions classroom, and Umbridge's office. Maren finally got to taste butterbeer.
This was a definite highlight of our overall trip. The other thing to note is that our family loves these kinds of exhibits. We have travelled to Boston to see Lord of the Rings movie art exhibit, and we have seen two separate exhibits of Star Wars concept art (Chicago) and movie art/costumes/props (Philadelphia). I still believe that Jonah needs to pursue something in the movie genre. Sure, it should be something on the technical side, but something with story. And we all know that Maren wants a future in film.
Lunch was an uninspired sandwich and crisps at the cafeteria. We left Warner Brothers with visions dancing in our heads. We arrived back at St. Ermine's at about 3:30 and had a two hour break before the planned dinner hour. This is significant because it was basically the only break we have had the entire time. Mark napped. Jonah read. Maren and I walked the few blocks to Westminster Abbey gift shop, a place that was closing as we arrived yesterday. One thing to know about Maren. She LOVES gift shops. The kitchier, the better, especially the crappy city gift shops like you see all over NYC. London did not disappoint her. We didn't actually buy anything here. I felt I had enough ornaments from England having bought them at Stonehenge, St. Paul's, Warner Brothers, and Tower of London. One thing we have learned-- sometimes key chains make better ornaments. They are less expensive and sometimes nicer than actual ornaments. And sometimes ornaments aren't available. Maren and I then went to tube station to top off our Oyster cards for the one last tube trip we had to make in the morning. Maren took care of the entire transaction at the computer kiosk. I love seeing her take care of things like that.
We returned to the room in time to get ready for our pub dinner. We ate at The Feathers pub just around the corner from our hotel. Jonah had bangers and mash; Maren had fish and chips with mushy peas, Mark had steak and eggs, and I had a beef, mushroom, and stout pie. Mark and I also enjoyed a few ales--the first of our trip. We all had smiles on our faces, Jonah especially. Not much can top sausages and mashed potatoes in his book (except for a little brown gravy). Maren had the large size fish and chips which she demolished!
Onto Wicked. What can we say about this? The show, the costumes, the music were all breathtaking. After our day at the studios, I tried to take in as many details as I could and to think about all the people and ideas that had gone into this production. We all had to agree, it was a near perfect day. Each night we write in a journal. Each person must record the best thing about the day (rose), the worst thing about the day (thorn), and the funniest thing about the day (jester). We couldn't think of any bad things about the day. The next morning, when asked what were the 3 best things about England, the kids both said Harry Potter, Wicked, and Tower of London.

Historical London

Wake up call was 6:30. We got ready for the day and headed to the Regency cafe for an authentic English breakfast. We knew we were in the right place: the clientele was made up of working class men dressed in uniforms of city workers, firemen, etc. Our breakfasts each included one egg, toast, English sausage and bacon, bean or tomatoes (only Maren opted for tomatoes) and a hot beverage. I wanted to order blood pudding for everyone to have a taste, but they would not let me. We could have ordered mushrooms, but we had enough with what was on our plates. And we ate everything. Good thing. We had a big day ahead of us. We had London Passes and were determined to get our money's worth. The day was gorgeous. Perfect touring weather.
We took the crowded morning tube to St. Paul's Cathedral-- Christopher Wren's masterpiece and setting of Charles' marriage to Diana. This was a filler-- something for us to do before the Tower of London opened. The problem was that the place was amazing, and we could have stayed there much longer exploring it. We stayed longer than I had planned. It is very hard coming up with an itinerary, not knowing how long each thing will take. I did not imagine that we would be as interested in a cathedral as we were. I guess that is a good thing: we have several more churches on the itinerary.
We walked as quickly as we could to the Tower of London but missed the first tour. We had to wait 15 minutes for the second tour at 10:30.
Our Yeoman Warden tour guide was very funny. We had a good time listening to tales of beheadings, imprisonments, murders, and treason. England does have a bloody and rather uncivilized history. I have been reading so much fiction lately about the war of the roses and the Second Jacobite rebellion that I really had a lot of interest in the stories that were told. This was an attraction we all liked. We ended the tour in the chapel where all the infamous people were buried. (Church count for the day--2). Next we toured the crown jewels. Somehow, Maren and I entered ahead of the men, but we all knew the plan: jewels, armory, gift shop. They would catch up. We sped through the jewels pretty fast. I am just not a precious jewelry kind of girl. Then Maren and I waited for a bit outside the crown jewels. The men didn't show, so we went into the armory at the white castle. Henry VIII's armor,and more particularly his exaggerated cod piece, were highlights. Also inside the white castle was St. John's chapel. (Church count for the day--- 3.) Maren hit the mark when she tested her archery skills. At last we made it to the gift shop where I bought an ornament. (We collect tree ornaments on our travels.) Here we waited for an hour for the men to finish. I was not happy. The next thing on our agenda was a river cruise on the Thames. I had four times marked down that would still let us do our afternoon's activities. We had already missed the first three. They had a copy of our itinerary with them, so I could not believe they weren't out of the exhibit yet. This was the point in which I really wish we had texting capabilities, but only Mark has an international plan, courtesy of his job. It is unreal how dependent i am on this technology. To think that 9 years ago when I was here, we had none of it. I didn't even have my own cell phone. Maren and decided to wait 15 more minutes. After ten minutes, I found Mark and Jonah, but we didn't have time for them to do the gift shop. And we didn't have time for a snack/lunch at the cafe as planned. Straight to the boat!
It was a beautiful day for a boat ride. A crew man gave a running commentary on the ride to Westminster Pier. Some of the sights were ones we had on our first day's walking tour, but this time we got to see them from the water side. We saw bridges that were being spruced up or rebuilt to accommodate expected Olympic guests. We also saw a bridge called the Ladies Bridge because 80% of the work to build the bridge was done by women during WWII. We got off at the pier at 2 pm to Big Ben's chimes and commenced Rick Steve's Westminster walking tour. Halfway into the tour which took us past Parliament and Westminster Abbey, we came to Churchill's War Rooms museum. We took time out to complete this tour. It was a claustrophobic experience, but an important reminder of a dark period in British history. Again, I had been reading fiction about this time, in particular, The Postmistress. It was good to have a more historical perspective.
Coming up from the museum, we found ourselves at the entrance to St. James park. What a beautiful sight after the dark underground. Tired and hungry, we decided to deviate from the planned remainder of the audio tour and walk the length of the park to see Buckingham Palace. The kids didn't seem to impressed with the castle, but they were tired. From what I remember, the castle seemed more spruced up--again, the preparations for world visitors.
Our last planned activity before dinner was Evensong, an evening prayer service we were attending as a way to experience Westminster Abbey (church #4 of the day). As you might imagine, the kids were not thrilled with this plan. The service was conducted in the quire section of the church. Because of our place in line, we were ushered into intricately carved individual seats in the choir area. In fact, the choir sat right in front of us and in identical seating across the aisle. It was a perfect place to experience the majesty of this service which consisted of choral music interspersed with lessons and prayers. It lasted about 45 minutes and gave us time to really absorb the art in this church which has seen the coronation of every British Monarch since 1066. Also, this was church was the place where the latest royal wedding took place. Even the kids had to admit it was a treat. Maren went so far as to say she had a religious experience, which I guess is as good as it gets for a proclaimed atheist.
Even more hungry now--we had skipped lunch-- we went to find the subway to take us to Chinatown for dinner. Since the subway stop we were looking for was near Trafalgar Square, the final destination on our walking tour, we decided to make amends for truncating the tour. The square is huge with an Olympic countdown clock. It is a shame we will not get to see the portrait gallery, but we will see plenty of art in Paris. At the square, we realized that Chinatown was only a few blocks away. Even more hungry and tired at this point, we limped grumpily to Chinatown which is near a lot of the theaters.
We stopped at The Little Lamb and saw people eating hot pots. A hot pot is a huge steaming bowl of heavily spiced broth in which you cook food at your table. Not knowing how to order hot pot, we ordered the all inclusive dinners rather than a la carte. This was a mistake as we would soon find out. They brought a large pot of broth to the burner at the table, and each of us ordered 5 different items to cook in the broth. We could select from a menu of various fish, meats, vegetables, noodles, etc. The first thing they brought out was a huge platter of thinly sliced beef. Since three of us had ordered beef, we didn't think this was any big deal, until we realized they were bringing us three such platters of meat. We had more food than we knew what to do with. And, much of it was duplicates. Crab, prawns, fish, beef, pork, lamb, meatballs, four orders of the exact same noodles. The only vegetables we had was an order of bean sprouts Maren ordered. It was comic. We ate and ate and ate. If only we could have taken home leftovers.
On the way home, we saw an M&M store. After the salty broth, we could do with a little sweet (and a bathroom). Maren danced with a green M&M. After we got a bag of candy, I realized I had been at 3 out of the 4 stores (London, Time Square, Las Vegas). The fourth store is in Orlando. Had I known, I would have made a point to go in February so I could complete my collection of M&M stores. (I think that is funny.) London is the largest of the stores and we thought that perhaps the M&M's actually tasted a little better. It was late by the time we got back to St. Ermine's.

Crossing Avalon

Day two: One of my all time favorite books is Mysts of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. My son is a sci-fi/fantasy junkie and loves all things British. Mark has always wanted to go to Stonehenge, so we had no difficulties deciding on a bus tour of mystical King Arthur's realm. We did have difficulty getting a bus to our meeting place at the British Museum. We are bus novices, so it took some time for us to find the stop we needed. The road signs aren't marked on corners like in the states, so we are constantly looking for street signs. Mark is not city literate when it comes to directions. It is odd to see, because he is so good with directions elsewhere. It also means I cannot take it for granted he knows where he is going like I do everywhere else we go. We saw the bus we wanted and chased it down, but we got on in the back of the bus and got a stern admonishment from our driver.
At the museum, we caught our touring bus with International Friends tours. There were 13 of us on the tour. What a good number! Fiona, our Blue Badge guide, gave us some information on London as we passed through the city. We passed Hyde Park and the monument to animals who served in the war. I loved the huge horse head sculpture in this park. We set out for our 2-hour drive to Stonehenge. I don't remember a whole lot about it. Despite all my efforts, I fell asleep. Jonah and I slept most of the way there, but we would catch snippets of what the guide was saying and then have crazy dreams.
We got to Stonehenge when it opened. It was pretty amazing but different than I expected. I learned a lot and felt real serenity there. That peace stayed with me all day at the sites we visited. They all seemed to a have a quiet energy. Stonehenge itself is roped off. We had to stay a reverential distance from the stones, but that felt right to me. Mystery and grandeur were two words that popped into my head. I wanted to
know so much more, but I suppose everyone has that feeling when they leave these stones. I loved hearing about the various myths and legends and hypotheses that have been formulated over the centuries.
Our next stop was Glastonbury. This was another long drive into the country, and again I slept. I just couldn't keep my eyes open, though I didn't feel tired before getting on the bus. In Glastonbury, we stopped first at a Tor with a tower on it. This is a sacred place that predates Christianity. Today it has many ties to the Druids and Pagans who celebrate holy days and do rituals at the top. It was a beautiful clear day, so we experienced some fantastic views of the surrounding farmlands. Very pastoral with all the sheep grazing nearby. I longed to do ritual here. Our tour guide was very informed, but she didn't seem interested in the soul of these places.
After we climbed down, Fiona took the group to the Chalice Well Gardens. Legend has it that the blood of Christ springs forth from the well because Joseph of Arimathea buried or washed the cup used in the Last Supper here. Also the water turns everything red. It is supposed to have healing properties. We all took a drink from the springs. I also waded in the healing springs. Refreshing! At noon, the place participates in a moment of peace. We stopped and meditated for a minute. Then we went I to the gift shop. The symbol for this well is the Vesica Piscis-- two interlocking circles. I just watched a sacred geometry video before we left and learned about this symbol. It is fascinating. What I learned was random, not in anticipation for this trip. I bought a pendant of this place. This small garden was the surprise delight of my day.
From here, we moved on to the ruins of the Glastonbury Abbey. This is the birthplace of Christianity in this country. The ruins were outstanding. It seemed as if they were guarding over the holy place, still. It was impossible to believe how big the church must have been considering what we saw was only one third the height. How did people build such big buildings with the technology available? This was a 13th century building, I believe. It is also believed to be the final resting place of Arthur and Guinevere.
From here, we went to Lunch at Cafe Galatea. Kids weren't thrilled with vegetarian food, but the vibe of the place said: peace, love, hippy, so I felt strongly about eating at a vegetarian cafe. They were placated with local ice cream. (We were in a dairy farm area of England.) For lunch I had a coconut cauliflower soup and country bread. Mark had a Brie and cranberry sandwich. Kids had deep fried potato wedges with curry mayonnaise. Mark and Maren had chocolate heaven ice cream. Jonah had the best vanilla ice cream he had ever eaten, and I had clotted cream ice cream.
After lunch the bus drove an hour to Avebury. Along the way, we passed many towns with the requisite village green, the village pond, and the village parish. How quaint and charming.
Avebury was another henge consisting of one large stone circles and two interior circles. This was larger than Stonehenge but formed with more natural rocks. Diamond shaped rocks represented the female and the pillar like rocks were the male. They think fertility rituals were performed here. The four of us huddled and had a moment's meditation for friends of ours who are undergoing fertility treatments. I bought a book on sacred geometry. That really interests me-- especially after this trip.
We drove home through Marlborough where Kate Middleton went to school. We were told she was smart and got good marks. Other things we saw a lot of during the day were examples of thatched roofs.
The tour bus dropped us off at Harrod's at 6 pm. We took the metro to Pimlico Tandoori for Indian food. The food was good but I was expecting so much more after having Indian food with my brother in Manchester nine years ago. This felt more like upscale version of the takeout that we get in Lancaster. I felt as though we should have gone to Brick Lane, the famed curry mile, instead of this place, but we were tired and had not wanted to travel that far from our hotel. The kids, however, did try new foods and liked them. For that, it was worth it. Perhaps I was jealous that I did not have a "new food" adventure.
We walked the scant mile back to our hotel from the restaurant and called it a night.

First day in London

For months, I had been obsessively planning out family trip to England and France. I read novels and memoirs, watched movies in my slavish preparations. I am sure that some of my detailed planning was an avoidance of the every day, but escapism is good for the soul. At last the day arrived.
We landed in London today. Leaving the airport, customs, and negotiating the tube proved to be smooth transactions. Our hotel, St. Ermine's, near Westminster Abbey was a good choice.
The room is beautiful. We have two beds and a day bed, which Jonah claimed. We also have two bathrooms which is a great perk with two teenagers. As luck would have it, our room was available at noon. We unloaded and went right back out into the world.
Our first stop was Borough Market for some food. I had already scoped out good food choices online. Had I not done that, we all would have been overwhelmed by our choices. First we went to Neal's Yard Dairy to taste and buy cheeses. The place had that dank smell of mystery, animals, grass, and dark caves. Choosing two cheeses to buy was an adventure, especially since it was our first time using British money. Exactly how good a deal is £42/kg? And how many grams should I ask for? I managed to get two kinds of cheese that I thought would be universally enjoyed by all family members. As I came out though, Mark told me to try a bleu cheese. He thought it was particularly good. I love bleu cheese, but I had refrained from even thinking about it because of him. I must be rubbing off on him.
Next, the men stood in line for spicy chorizo sausage sandwich-- one for Jonah and one for Mark and me to split. Meanwhile, Maren and I went off in search of fish and chips. Cod for her and haddock--once again for Mark and me to split. Both were delicious- which may have had something to do with having only a small pastry and OJ on the plane as breakfast. The market itself was a carnival of sights, smells, sounds, and people. We loved hearing all the different British accents as well as the foreign speech. I was most in awe of the pans of paella as big as truck tires. Other curries were also made in huge pans like this. If I had to do over, I might add paella in the lunch menu, but I don't know what I would have eliminated. The sausage sandwich came on this great crusty homemade bread with roasted red peppers and arugula. Even Jonah ate the vegetables-- though he did say it wasn't the best sausage sandwich he ever eaten.
We all took lots of pictures. Jonah has command over the Canon Rebel. Maren operates the small red pocket Canon, while Mark and I use our phone cameras. The problem is that all of us are taking the same pictures. I am going to have all our pictures times 4 to sort through when we return. But there were great pictures to be had. It is just amazing the ways people do things in foreign countries. There is a whole different aesthetic.

From Borough Market, we tried to locate London Bridge to start the South Bank audio tour I downloaded. I don't know what was wrong with Mark and me. Our phone app maps were misleading, and we were both navigationally impaired in this instance. We walked at least a mile out of our way until we finally located the Thames River. How hard can it be to find a river?? We were all fatigued by the time we started the walking tour, but everyone was a trooper. Nobody complained. We saw Southwark Cathedral and were treated to information on pubs, boat racing, a replica of the Golden Hind --Sir Francis's Drake's boat on which he circumnavigated the earth, castle ruins and prisons.
Then we got to the site of the original Globe theater. All of us are Shakespeare buffs, so this was fun. Around the corner was the actual theater-- along with the Rose Theater. We didn't tour the Globe; it is a reproduction that was only completed in the 1990's. But we did stop to look at the gift shop and have a bathroom break. In the courtyard of the Globe, we saw two Big Green Egg grills. We thought that was funny. Who would have thought to combine our love of grilling with Shakespeare? Also interesting was the wedding reception that was going on there.
Next door to the theater is the Tate Modern which is housed in an old electrical plant. The museum is free so we went inside and explored one floor--the third. I was not impressed with the artwork nor the way it was displayed. I found a few pieces I liked, and took pictures. Interestingly enough, the pieces I liked were done by women (Dorothea Tanning, Joan Mitchell and Germaine Richier. ) You don't see enough artwork done by women in museums, so I took down their names for further investigation. On this floor was a room of reclining nudes done in painting and sculpture. You know it is time to move on when you see this subject and all you can think about is a nap. We did stop for a quick look in the gift shop. I wish I would have bought the Tate Modern timeline, which was a small accordion folded card that detailed the modern art movements to present. I've often wanted to take another college art history class on Modern Art, since the last class I had was in 1988. My knowledge no longer feels
"modern". Perhaps I need to look for an online class to take. As we left, we noticed lots of people sleeping on the leather couches that lined the stairwells. It almost seemed like an art installation in an of itself.
The rest of our tour took us past many buildings that had to do with the arts, including television and film. We passed the National Theater which is an ugly modern building. The audio guide used the phrase Brutal Period of architecture, which I had never heard before. The day was cold, windy, and grey. As we walked toward the London Eye, we saw all kinds of street performers: many human statues, a unicyclist, and a man who arranged children into poses and then posed himself to create a scene. I wondered where these performers came from. We took pictures of the London Eye, but did not go up. Visibility was low, and we had already decided to forgo the experience. We gratefully walked across the Westminster bridge, past Parliament and Westminster Abbey to our hotel which we reached about 5pm.
We were all tired. One by one we each plopped on our beds with a groan. But we couldn't stay there, at risk of inertia, so we got ourselves moving again.
We decided to take the tube to Harrod's Department Store. The Tube was packed. Sardines. We threw ourselves in the door and hoped it would close with us on the inside. We are becoming quite expert at using the tube and our Oyster passes.
At Harrod's we quickly figured that we were not the target consumer. Very posh, but fun to browse. What they did have that we could enjoy is a huge food court with all kinds of goodies. Think high end farmer's market. Like the old Achenbach stand at Watt & Shand only on a larger scale and with more venders. We bought two kinds of sliced salami (one was wild boar), one large and very delicious pear, and a demi baguette to go with the specialty goat and cheddar cheeses I bought at Borough Market. They had a specialty wine shop. We bought a French wine for dinner. Knowing we also had an early day tomorrow, we also bought pastries (variations on the croissant) for our breakfast.
We took it all back to our hotel room, where I set up a buffet. We had brought along plastic travel cutlery and an airplane allowable corkscrew. We had no plates but used the wax paper that the meats and cheeses came in as plates. A very delicious meal.
Though we were all exhausted, we took showers and hand washed our clothes. We brought minimal wardrobes so we wouldn't have to check luggage. One funny thing: Jonah was supposed to bring the small vials of laundry soap. But he didn't have them in his allowed quart size plastic bag. I had packed all the liquids and had distributed them among the 4 of us. Jonah, however, had packed the one he used for Florida. Upon further investigation, we discovered that Jonah had packed two quart-size bags of liquids. The airport security hadn't caught it. So we were able to wash our clothes and hang them on the travel lines we brought with us. Kids fell immediately to sleep. Mark followed quickly. I stayed up about an hour more to journal. I went to bed at ten.

Honors English

A couple of decades before the Twilight series, teens had a great void. We had to read adult books or kids books. I was a voracious reader as a girl, but when I hit 8th grade, I had a hard time finding things to read. One day at SSR a friend gave me a romance novel. I tried hard to like it, but there was something weird and creepy about it. The men were these hard types who didn't show their feelings. They were usually nearing 40 as opposed to the female protagonist who was barely out of her teens. But the books themselves were quick to read, readily available, and I was a young girl ready to enter a life of romance.
When I got to high school, I started taking honors English classes. The books we were reading were a far cry from the romance novel. I was frustrated. I loved Newbery Award winning books, which were considered the best of children's lit, but if these books we were supposed to read in high school were any indication of quality literature, I would stick to trashy novels. Bring on V.C. Andrews and Danielle Steele.
It wasn't until my freshman year of college when I had a Women's Studies course that I discovered real literature again. I still remember the three novels we discussed: Chopin's The Awakening, Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God, and Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale. I could not believe that I was reading these books as an assignment. And the discussion points--they blew me out of the water because I could suddenly identify with what I was reading. This was no Lord Jim or The Red Badge of Courage! At this point I realized that of all the novels I read in 11th-12th grade honors English, only Wharton's Ethan Frome (my favorite book of both classes) was written by a woman.
I began trolling the Women's Studies section of textbooks at the college store for my casual reading. I pretended to be registered for the classes, buying the required reading. It was through this deceptive practice that I discovered Toni Morrison, Isabel Allende, Marge Piercy, Alice Walker, and Marilyn French to name a few. Then I would start to read everything by these authors. I found the poets Adrienne Rich and Maya Angelou. These women changed my life.
I was saddened to learn of Adrienne Rich's recent death. It brought me right back to my college questing days. These writers leave such a legacy. I am forever in their debt.
What are your kids reading in high school? Is it a good balance of male and female writers? It should be if half the people in the room are female. Are people of color represented? Ask to see your student's English curriculum. Write letters to the school board asking for diversity in their materials. Girls and boys alike need to experience the female voice--not as a side bar, not as a movie version. The Twilight Series is over. (Yes, I read them.) Give us the breadth and depth of creation. Here is my assignment for you: start by finding a poem by Adrienne Rich.

The Movie Version

My kids and I are going to see the Hunger Games today. We all read the book. Over the years we have seen many of our favorite novels (either ones I read to them or ones we all read) turned into film. I wonder when it was that authors started thinking of film as the final destination of their imaginations? To have your book published is a wonderful experience, but can you really hold the finished product in your hand without giving some thought as to who will play the lead? At that time, I remember thinking that Katie Holmes would be a good casting choice for BJ, but now I have some other thoughts. Kristen Bell? Emily Blunt?
Recently, Diana Gabaldon did some fan Facebook casting of her characters from the Outlander series. I spent much of 2011 in her imaginary worlds, so it was fun to see the options people came up with. Why HBO hasn't snatched this up to become a cable series is beyond my comprehension.

In the near future, my family and I will be going to London. One of the stops on our trip is to see the newly opened Warner Brother film sets from the Harry Potter movies. I read every single one of the books out loud to my kids, and we saw all the movies together. This is an activity for us. In 2004, we drove to Boston on my son's birthday to see the Lord of the Rings Movie art exhibit at the Museum of Science. It isn't enough to read. We need to see the costumes and the props.

And then there is the Harry Potter World theme park I visited this February with my son. We donned butterbeer mustaches and rode the castle ride with our hologram character guides. Okay, maybe having your own theme park based on your books is the final destination.

One of the book series I read to my kids when they were younger was Inkheart by Cornelia Funke. In this series, a man has the ability to bring fictional characters into reality simply by reading books aloud. Eventually, the main characters find a way to plant themselves inside the stories they have been reading.

This is what readers want as their ultimate destination: to be on the inside of a book looking out. As a writer, this is where I begin the process. I spend many days (weeks, months, years) immersed in the story. The only way I can leave is to write my way out. It is an exorcism, an escape, and a ascension all in one. Why do we get writer's blocks? Sometimes we don't want to write ourselves out of the tale. We like our mind prisons. Imaginary worlds are a fun place to be—especially during an election year.

Speed of things

Back in the day, I used to be fast. Not set records fast, but get a few medals and get your name in the paper fast. The years past. The pounds came on. I still have one speed that it is above a walk that I use when I go to the track, but slow is that only way to describe it.
Such a slowdown is not the same for the publishing industry. After I wrote Summers At Blue Lake, it took me two years to find an agent. It took my agent two years to find a publisher. It took the publisher two years to publish the book. Writing novels is not for the sprinter. I often thought that I'd be so much better at rejection if I were a song writer. But who wants rejection in a process that is so long and so time-consuming. (And that isn't even counting the time it takes to write the thing.) Fear of rejection has frozen my pen. I just don't have the heart to go to the page even though the ideas still do mad laps around my brain. You would think they would have tired themselves out by now.
Two weeks ago, I received a letter from my agent's assistant. My book rights have reverted back to me from the publisher, and she wanted to know if I was interested in pursuing ebook publication. Well, the book was already written; I might as well capitalize on it. I called her that day, and she asked me to write a few bullets of an e-marketing plan to submit with a pitch to one of the big ebook companies. I spent a frenzied weekend researching e-marketing for e-books. I turned in my plan for which I got kudos and was told that I would need a new cover if this went through. (My publisher held the rights to the old cover.) Being an artist and a perfectionist, I thought I could try my hand and doing my own cover. Off to do more research. That process was fast and fun. I learned a lot in the 22 revisions that I did for the final product. That process probably took me a week. And in that time, I had an answer: Nook accepted my ebook for their Nook First program.
Beginning May 28, my ebook will be featured on Nook's main page. It will run exclusively for a month on Nook before becoming available in other markets. My head is spinning. I must go back to the Internet to research how to execute the points I outlined in my marketing plan. It is thrilling to say the least.
Now that I have this outlet that moves at the speed of light, I see hope again for my work. I want to write. I have stories to tell. I want to arrange words in a way that only I can.
I work as a substitute teacher. It is seasonal work that begins to dry up toward the end of a school year. Very soon, I will have time to work.

Writer, take your mark.
Get set.
Go!

Being an Artist in a Capitalistic Society

Yesterday, I was interviewed by a college student who was taking a Sociology of the Arts course. Fascinating stuff—not my answers, but the class in general. They talk about how art is formed by society and the ideals we hold. What are the arts like in a capitalistic society versus a communist society? Who decides the trends in arts? Who decides what art is? What is the role of a critic? What is the role of a patron? What roles do government and economics play in art? It made me want to take the class, especially after having recently seen the movie Exit through the Gift Shop, a movie about the commercialization of street art.




One of the questions I was asked was what advice I would give younger artists. One of the things I said is that you have to be a jack-of-all-trades. We live in a competitive society in which the artist must compete for patronage and favorable criticism. This isn't a simple road race; it is a decathlon. And you do a heck of a lot of training before compete. I do my work with the realization that it may be years before I am paid for that work—if I get paid at all. As you can imagine, I don't have many people who work under me. I have learned to do things for myself. I built my own website, sent a press release, designed and sent promotional cards, and wrote query letters. I am still working on doing the numbers. As an artist you frame your work, take photographs of your work, write blogs, address technology, write marketing plans, and network.  None of these skills came prepackaged in my college degree. You learn to fake it until you figure it out. Today, for instance, I am working on the cover art for my book and learning to design custom frames/borders for promotional postcards. Tomorrow, I am working on taxes. At some point, I must figure out how to connect my Twitter account to my blog and vice versa—and to get the links on my website. Did Picasso do all this?
 
Is this what it means to be an artist in this society? It is my experience. I wish I could be a fly on the wall when the sociology class participants give their reports on the interviews they conducted. What do our collective answers and actions say about our society? I'll leave you with one more of the questions I was asked. (I am paraphrasing.)
 
When did you first begin to tell people you were an artist/writer? My answer? I didn't feel comfortable telling people I was an artist/writer until I was getting paid for the work I did (even though the work I was getting paid for was done years previously).
 

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.

Resuscitation, Revival, Renewal

In Pennsylvania, spring has come early. Rotatillers, openly displayed pedicures, and eating outside on the deck--all of those before the month of March hit is teens. Spring has always been about renewal for me. Our family is taking a big trip this spring, so I have to admit that I didn't have my sights set on specific acts renewal this year. No new exercise regiments, and I have yet to crack open a gardening catalog. I am, however, revelling in this weather and the spurt of energy that has come with it.
Into this early spring, a letter arrived from my agent. With no fully formed efforts to show, I have been hiding from my agent. But the letter announced good news: SUMMERS AT BLUE LAKE has been released from my publisher so that I am free to pursue other avenues of publication. More specifically, I am free to pursue my novel's publication as an e-book. E-books were around when SUMMERS was published, but Nook, Kindle, iPads had yet to be the go-to gift at the holidays.
Now, in anticipation of pitching my book to one of the biggies, I must explore an online marking strategy. Twitter, Facebook, Linked In as the holy trinity, with my website/blog keeping pace. As much as technology can be daunting with its sparkle and speed, I am welcoming this chance to revitalize my career. E-books? It seems less threatening than a printed books somehow. Don't get me wrong; I love the printed page. But if I blunder about in my attempt for another novel, I won't be killing off any trees or picturing skids of books abandoned in a warehouse somewhere.
And so, I will keep this first entry of my revived blog on the short side. I have some other writing to do and a career to resusitate.