It literally felt like a run through. We arrived in the City of Lights around six in the morning after an all night flight. Of course I didn’t sleep. Planning for this trip I had been more anxious than I would care to admit. The days leading up to it I stupidly over thought every detail possible; from my boy Gabe begging me not to leave, wondering if Brett would remember to do laundry, to traveling abroad with a group of 27 people. I had never been away from my husband and children that long.
This came about in early 2014. My parents invited me to attend an educational study abroad program set for July. My little sister and brother had attended these trips with them in the past, while I was busy having babies during those years. One day my Dad called and was proud to proclaim, “It’s your time now.” I was excited. I was nervous. Ten days meandering around France and Switzerland. We would travel with a group from the high school I attended, Cincinnati Christian, and led by my old Bible teacher. Talk about flashbacks. The majority of our group of 27 were parents of current or alumni students, but there were also current students and a couple alumni. I was blessed to have my parents, two aunts, my uncle, my dear friend/roomy who I convinced to go (also past alumni) and her daughter in our pack. I was in good company.
True to my nature, I researched everything up one side and down the other about the parts of Switzerland and France we would be visiting from its history to best restaurants to hit up. I also researched how to pack all of the clothes I wanted into a single carry-on. Yes, I probably researched this most.
Bless my parents for waiting so long for me to post these photos. After coming home I was immediately swallowed by work and homeschooling the kids until my winter slow down, and every few weeks my father has asked if I’ve been able to look at the photos. It wasn’t until a couple weeks ago that I was even able to go through them. My father–he was my photography cheerleader through Europe–asking to carry my camera bag even though his knees ached, pointing me to good vantage points, sharing how happy he was that I was able to see these things….this was my highlight.
As I close out 2014 on the blog this week, I begin with Paris (more of France and Switzerland to follow). We were only there for four days and most of the time we were literally running from place to place, striving to keep up with our rigorous itinerary for the day. Although I didn’t get to slowly wander streets as I had always envisioned, I still made it a point to keep my eyes wide, soaking in every ounce of new beauty I could.
I saw….
-Adorably clothed French children calling “Mama!”
-The most dapper men I’ve ever witnessed in real life
-An older woman biking gracefully down a Parisian street. Her large hat sat above her curly grey locks, but it was the red dress that stopped me.
-Men holding their teenaged sons hands…beautiful, and I wish it was common here
-A busy and dirty city, similar to some of our own. My father claims that the Paris of today is very different from the one a decade ago.
-Picture perfect cafes, as if Audrey Hepburn may be dining at the table next to me.
-The language. I could listen all day. My attempts were purposely few, so as not to tarnish those beautiful sounds
-Window boxes with flowers everywhere I looked
-The light…the way it fell on the street in the evening, the way it reflected off the Seine. I could imagine why it inspired so many.
Instead of words, I’ll share a bit of what I saw around this magnificent city…
Somewhere between expectation and reality we landed in Paris at the peak of tourist season. Every museum, and cathedral had “clouds” of people waiting. Thousands of people from all over the world were waiting to see the Mona Lisa or Le Notre Dame. Standing in line was agonizing. Would my knees hold up? I can’t breathe because the air in the Van Gogh room is being sucked up by a cloud of humanity. Over in the distance I think I see the painting that inspired “Starry, starry night.” And Vincent, you can rest assured—-they do know and love you now. But I panic——I have to escape, my knees hurt—–I need a place to sit—–but there is no place,——— there is never any place to sit…
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us.
I believe at one point I got within a few feet of a Monet, before I was pushed aside by a Chinese guide, leading about 40 of his countrymen. I could justify yielding my place because I had seen them all before on that magic morning nine years ago when my son and I had walked all the way from our hotel, up the left bank of the Seine, to find the Musee d’ Orsee practically vacant with no more than two or three people in any room————–Ah, yes, nine years ago——-We found a Paris that was more laid back, not in a hurry, a Paris that wanted you to take a couple of hours to eat——-relax——watch the people——It is an expression of what the French call “joie de vivre” or the “joy of life.” The Paris that greeted us this time was more like NYC……….Hurry——Run——catch your train……..Run through the catacombs under Paris if you must,,,,,,,,,but don’t be late!! Twenty seven people with luggage fighting commuters for a tiny spot to stand. A tiny woman in Muslim garb helps me get off my four pieces of luggage before the the door slams shut—–I will never forget her kindness or her smile………Paris was a dazzling experience, and trying to sprint through all the vistas is a challenge best met by young legs with fresh eyes. Although I have neither, I can’t wait to go back——-next time with the whole family. Jesse, you captured the essence of Paris beautifully. It was great having you as a travel partner.
BEAUTIFUL Jess…a city with architecture and trees and CHAIRS! like none other. I miss being there, even if I was only there a few days too. I’ve vowed to go back and when I do (WHEN not if), I’ve promised myself I will be able to speak a margin of French.
PS – One of my personal fave memories too is listening to these little French children over croissants for breakfast exclaming, “Mama!” and “Papa” in the CUTEST way.