Tag Archives: France

Postcard from Paris, France

30 May

Inside Musée du Louvre in Paris, France

Hi-

Remember how we always made fun of the French? Well, now I sort of love the place*, but I’m embarrassed and disappointed that I didn’t fall in love with Paris during our first visit. Perhaps it was too much hype?

For Nick, it was love at first sight. My feelings are trying to catch up, but sometimes the love that take longer to develop is the most deep and lasting. (Ew, maybe this City of Love stuff is getting to me after all.)

Miss you,
A

*In particular, I love the wine, chocolate, pastries, butter…

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Bridging history on VE Day

8 May

Rebuilt Bombe at Bletchley Park in Milton Keynes, England

The ancient preserved structures in Europe are so abundant that they are almost easy to take for granted. “Another Gothic church from the 13th century …. another Roman ruin from the 1st century … another rock pile from 2,000 B.C. …”

Last weekend I stayed in a hotel in the Champagne region of France that dates its structural foundation to the 1100s. This past weekend I stayed in a former Welsh country home that was built starting in the 1500s. But sleeping somewhere old and beautiful wasn’t the highlight of either weekend. For two weekends in a row, quite unexpectedly, I experienced living history that was more interesting than the sum of all the castles and palaces I’ve visited. These people we met connected us to VE Day 67 years later after the fact. I’ve heard called them history bridges. In fact, they are living links to the past.

During our trip to Champagne, we visited the off-the-beaten-path cellars of Drappier. Our tour concluded with a tasting and two flutes into it, the patriarch of the Drappier family, Andre, joined our small group. His visit was unexpected to us, and even the staff seemed surprised, but we made room for him and were delighted with his first-hand accounts of his former neighbor and frequent customer, Charles de Gaulle. The champagne house sells a brut created to CDG’s taste preferences. So there we sat, discussing the upcoming French election and whether the voters would choose the Socialist candidate while drinking Drappier Cuvee Charles de Gaulle Brut. Our friend translated Monsieur Drappier’s observation that “Sarkozy is drinking more water than champagne these days.” Surreal.

Little did I know, our history lesson wasn’t complete. On our way back from Wales this weekend, we stopped in Milton Keynes to visit Bletchley Park, home of the famous World War II code breakers. I was a reluctant visitor; Nick’s enthusiasm overcompensated. In the end, I was the one who didn’t want to leave because we met a woman who spent the war years working in complete secret on an effort that helped end the war two years early. Chosen for her ability to reach the top rows – only the tall girls who were at least 5’4″ qualified – she set the dials and ran the machines that unlocked the German battlefield and maritime messages.

Looking these history bridges in the eye, hearing their personal accounts of familiar stories, and thanking them for rising to the challenges of the day so our freedoms could be preserved – that’s better than a pile of ancient Egyptian wine jugs.

Be sure to wish a happy VE Day to the history bridges in your life who breathed a sigh of relief and celebrated on the streets nearly 70 years ago today.

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(Not) home for the holidays

11 Apr

Christmas Market in Lille, France

A year living abroad means a year’s worth of holidays away from my beloved traditions and family. Some people think we’re lucky, others find it sad that we’ve been away from home for the holidays.

However, we considered it an experience we never thought we’d have, but since it was offered to us, we decided to make our own European holiday memories. Here’s how we spent the holidays:

Independence Day: Shockingly, no one in England wished us a Happy 4th. Even a crack about how the ragtag colonists kicked the Red Coats’ butt would have been appreciated. We considered decking ourselves in American flag regalia and crashing the early July apartment complex cookout with sparklers in hand, but instead we let the holiday quietly pass by waiting for our Internet provider to work their way through the queue and flip on our DSL switch. Now that I understand English culture a little better, this actually seems like an appropriate way to commemorate an event in American-English history. After all, queuing is England’s great passion.

Labor Day: Bank holidays are so common in Europe and rare in the U.S. that the only odd thing about this holiday was that my American colleagues had a day off work and I didn’t.

Thanksgiving: I cooked a feast for two, but my little kitchen, equipped with dull knives, pots with uneven bottoms and only the most basic pieces of equipment, left me with few options for traditional dishes. I attempted an apple pie using a ready-to-bake pie crust from the grocery store, but like all British baked goods, it came out of the oven dry and tasteless.

Christmas: We went to Christmas markets in Lille, France and London, then stayed at a castle (o.k., really, it was a palace) in England for Christmas Eve through Boxing Day. My mom sent a box of her homemade Christmas cookies and we Skyped into the festivities at home.

New Years: We headed to Vienna,Austria to see the opera, watch fireworks and toast 2012 with champagne.

Girl Scout Cookie Season: Turns out, I missed this American tradition more than I thought. A Lent without Girl Scout cookies saved me some calories, but only an authentic Samoa can curb the annual craving.

Opening Day: I really missed being home for the start of the baseball season. Whether it’s snowing in Cleveland or a perfect Spring afternoon in Cincinnati, Opening Day is a hope-filled celebration of America’s favorite pastime. Being away for Opening Day made me realize what my favorite holiday is.

Easter: We headed to the Scottish Highlands for the four-day Easter holiday. A beautiful place to spend a weekend, but a terrible place to spend the most holy days of the liturgical year. The Highlands were the last stand for the Jacobites and when the revolts were quelled, the Catholics were eradicated. We could not find a church within 100 miles where we were staying.

Being away from home has made me realize that what I miss most are family, apple pie, Girl Scout cookies, baseball, and freedom of religion. What could more American than that?


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Paris magic

5 Mar

Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

We try not to be too clichéd (that’s the only French word I could weave into this post about Paris) touristy tourists, opting instead for authentic experiences where possible. We really do, but it doesn’t always turn out that way. They’re called “tourist TRAPS” for a reason.

On our first trip to Paris, the Eiffel Tower was not on our must-see list, but it’s so large, you can’t miss it. The mysterious metal tower must emit some frequency heard only by visitors that causes the non-French to stare and reach for their cameras.

We’d avoided that monster for two days, but after an outstanding dining experience, we exited Restaurant Maison Blanc to find a taxi and were confronted with the Eiffel Tower lit up in its glory. The champagne and Rhone Valley red, plus the surprise of having an unobstructed view of the tower at night meant we just couldn’t help ourselves – we took a silly posed picture with the Eiffel Tower in the background.

(If you need further proof that our guard was down, immediately after taking the offending picture, a street vendor charmed us into buying an overpriced, broken stemmed rose.)

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One place at a time

6 Feb

Basilica di Santa Chiara at night. Assisi, Italy

Invariably, when I’m taking in a sunset, climbing steep stone steps or sipping wine at a sidewalk cafe, I recall another similar experience.  A call it a trip flashback.

Walking through the ancient, hilly streets of Erice, Sicily at night reminded me of exploring the mountain-top town of Assisi, Italy in the moonlight.  Climbing the Marjan in Split, Croatia brought to mind the hike to Sant Jeroni the top of Santa Maria de Montserrat in Catalonia, Spain. No matter where I am in the world, a crisp fall day with leaves crunching between my feet and a brick road always transports me to East Green Drive in Athens, Ohio.

These recollections are both welcome and disconcerting. Travel is one part enjoying the experience and one part collecting the memory.  Conscientiously, I want to absorb the moment and file it way. But when is it ok for the memory to return? I’m not sure whether these memories cloud or enhance a journey.

No two places are the same, and I can only be in one place at a time. As much as I loved every bite of that beavertail in Blue Mountain, Canada, its memory should not interfere with enjoyment of the crepe I’m eating in the market in LeMans, France. There only so much Nutella in the world I can eat at a time. The same should be said of experiences.

I need to accept that I can’t be everywhere at once. That beautiful sunset in Kauai – yeah, that is going to happen tonight even though I’m in Cambridge, England. Lucky for me, I am learning to enjoy what I have right here, right now. And someday when I get back to Kauai, that sunset will be waiting for me, as will that beavertail in Canada.

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