Conjuring Paris Memories

Three years ago I knew I would someday soon write this post.  As a teenager I had visited Paris and then thirteen years later I returned while in graduate school.  I thought it would be fitting to return yet again after another thirteen years, this time with my daughter.  Though I missed the mark by three years, C and I did make it this year, and what a trip it was!  So many things that could go wrong did.  I could not have foreseen how either this year’s trip or this post would turn out, especially how digging into my memories would reveal some surprising similarities — it turns out that every trip to Paris has had its hiccups.

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In the Latin Quarter – for some reason the only photo I have of the 1989 trip to Paris

Summer 1989.  My sisters and I spent a month with my aunt and uncle in Frankfurt, Germany.   This was my first time traveling overseas–the trip that would launch all the rest.  For the July 4th weekend we took the train to Paris for a four day holiday.  If you know Paris in summer then you know it is hot and crowded.  If you know your Paris/French history, you then realize July 1989 was the 200th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, the start of the French Revolution, and French independence.  Also, the 100th anniversary of the Eiffel Tower.  Perhaps not the best time to visit Paris.  Yet we did.

It has been so many years but I still remember quite a few things.  We stayed in a B&B on Montmartre.  I noted in my journal “we trudged up steep hills and stairways, dragging our luggage…but it [the hotel] is quaint and the owner is a kindly, cheerful man whose wife will serve us breakfast to our room in the morning.” Yet that merry man and his wife later locked my sisters and I out of the hotel.  They did not want to give keys to children and one evening while my aunt and uncle caught a show at the Moulin Rouge, we went to wander the artist stalls.  Returning just after 8 PM we found the front door bolted tight, all the lights off.  What could we do but ring the doorbell?  Again and again, til finally they grudgingly let us in.  We were on their sh*t list after that, but the croissants they brought in the morning were still buttery soft and delicious.

At the Arc de Triomphe we were, for some unknown reason, unable to find an underground passageway so we ran across the roundabout, all six lanes or so of traffic.  Probably not our brightest idea, but it was certainly exhilarating!  We then walked to the Louvre.  It is not actually all that far, but at the time I thought it took forever!  Temperatures were high and we were sweating; the Champs-Elyses and Jardin des Tuileries were lined with flags from across the world as many foreign leaders and tourists were in town for the 200th anniversary celebrations.  I saw a Tale of Two Cities chess set in a store window along the way and wanted to buy it, fancying myself a budding chess player or at least chess set collector (neither of which was borne out).  We arrived at the Louvre to find the line so long we did not even go in!

Also, although we visited the Cathedral of Notre Dame, we spent little time inside and did not go up to see the gargoyles or the view.  Instead, we hung out in the park behind the cathedral feeding the pigeons.  At some point, while waiting on a subway platform, we were subjected to tear gas wafting in from above.  That was my first tear gas experience (I had have two more, both in Korea).

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                                         Extraordinary — 2002 but nearly the same view as 2018                                            (and no, I did not check my old photos before my new trip)

Fast forward to Spring 2002 when on a lark I decided Paris would be my graduate school Spring Break destination.  Seeing Paris alone as a 30 year old is very different than as a 16 year old with family.  I am sure that does not come as a surprise to anyone.  And yet once again things did not all go as planned.

Six days was the perfect amount of time in Paris.  I visited the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, the Musee d’Orsay, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, the Picasso Museum, the Dali Museum, the Rodin museum, Montmartre, Notre Dame, the Montparnasse and Pere Lanchaise cemeteries, the catacombs, took a river cruise and a bike tour.  I think I covered just about everything. 

2 ParisBut I was so tired when I arrived and then the airport was confusing.  There were signs, but I do not think they told anybody anything.  I changed money at a terrible rate with a horrible charge, and could not work the phones (although truthfully I don’t think anyone could — foreigners were staring blankly at payphones all over the airport), and was treated rudely by some guy at the tourist information counter who surely thought I must be a moron given I was unable to work the phones  Welcome to France!

My visit to the Eiffel Tower, Versailles, and the Musee d’Orsay went off without a hitch.  At Notre Dame I not only spent more time inside the church but even ventured to the tower.  The Louvre though was a different story.

On Monday I went to the Louvre.  It is a really big place.  It is said that if one spent one minute before each of the art works exhibited it would take 200 days, 24 hours a day, to see it all.  I arrived just after 9 AM and took a break at 12:30 for lunch in the Louvre cafe.  After lunch I planned to spend another hour there and was on my way up to the 2nd floor, when a siren went off.  Whir-whir-whir.  Then an announcement: “All patrons should now exit the Louvre immediately.  You will be notified once the security situation has returned to normal and you can return.”  The elevators and escalators were shut off as well as a number of rooms sealed.  [This was a year before the Da Vinci Code came out – but I saw those security doors come down]  What was happening?  When I reached the foyer, people were still being sold tickets and entering the museum.  I asked a guard and he said he did not know what was going on but that it seemed okay to go back in.  I spent another hour on the 2nd floor; there was no other announcement about the “security situation.”

3 ParisAnd then there was the visit to the Arc de Triomphe.  As I arrived in front of the Arc and starting towards the underpass, a police caravan rode up.  Two motorcycles and about five trucks of police.  The police jump out, in full riot gear, with helmets and shields and such, and stand in formation on the circle facing the Arc.  What is happening?  I look around for snipers or a jumper or any situation that would warrant this response.  Nothing.  Just other tourists milling around.  The underpass is closed to I walk to the other side.  The police in the tunnel do not do anything to stop walkers.  Turns out there was a strike of hospital personnel that day and the police were there for them.  After 15 minutes the stairway to the Arc reopens and the police caravan turns on the sirens and speeds away.

A last minute trip to the Cemetery of Pere Lanchaise ended in a frantic rush.  I made it to Jim Morrison’s headstone before two guards approached me to let me know they were closing.  There was still 25 minutes left but they told me at 5:30 the gates were locked and they let the dogs out.  I tried to find the grave of Frederic Chopin with their directions but I was too preoccupied with being locked in a cemetery at night with dogs hunting me, so I just headed for the exit.  And the search for Victor Hugo’s home took far too long wandering small streets only to find out it was closed.

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A beautiful day in Paris — one of my most absolute favorite pictures of me

What really stays in my memory though is my bicycle tour.  I barely remember where we went but only that I loved seeing the city from a different angle.  I had walked, and walked, and walked around the city for hours on end  (Oh how I loved all that walking! I miss being in a walkable city), so a few hours on wheels was very refreshing.  The weather was quite warm for March–I was in a t-shirt–and the sky sunny and clear.

I found myself on the airplane waiting on the tarmac about to head home.  I sat staring out the window.  And then there was this strange sound.  A ticking sound.  Several passengers around me could hear it.  And the flight attendants were looking for something.  The plane continued to sit just a little way past pushback.  Tick. Tick. Tick.  The flight attendants rushed down the aisle.  We sat there a good 10 minutes and we began to move.

Fast forward to April 2018 and as we sat on the airplane bound for Addis Ababa listening to a deportee yelp in the back of the plane, flight attendants rushing up and down the aisles, and concerned passengers looking around and I thought of my past and present Paris trips – of the tear gas, the labor strikes, unpredictable weather, closed for renovation museums, odd airplane events, and other out of the ordinary experiences.  Though heading home again, I already looked forward to the next Paris adventure and hope it will not be so long in coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Escape to the Cape (Town)

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C jumps for joy atop Table Mountain

Cape Town.  I have long wanted to visit.  In 2010 I visited South Africa.  I was living in Jakarta and one of my best friends was living in Luanda, so we met up in Johannesburg for ten days of Jo’burg, Pretoria, and Kruger National Park.  But not Cape Town.  So after years of hearing about the city that some say is their favorite in Africa, and others say is their favorite in the world, it was time to experience it for myself.

Cape Town.  I have long wanted to visit.  In 2010 I visited South Africa.  I was living in Jakarta and one of my best friends was living in Luanda, so we met up in Johannesburg for ten days of Jo’burg, Pretoria, and Kruger National Park.  But not Cape Town.  So after years of hearing about the city that some say is their favorite in Africa, and others say is their favorite in the world, it was time to experience it for myself.

First we had to get there.  Seems simple enough.  Go to airport.  Get on plane.  Fly to South Africa.  If it is just you traveling, it probably is that straightforward.  If you are traveling with a minor…  Nope.  In 2015, South Africa instituted new laws for anyone — South African or otherwise — traveling with children under the age of 18.  Along with a passport, your child(ren)’s unabridged birth certificate is now an essential travel document.  This is if you are one or two parents traveling together with your kids.  If you are married but not traveling together, you need to have the affidavit granting permission.  And if you are a single parent you are supposed to travel with whatever document gave you that status — a divorce decree, a death certificate.  My status is fairly simple; I have never been married and I am the only parent on the birth certificate.  Yet that fact seemed to complicate things when traveling to South Africa with my child. The year before the American Citizen Services section in Pretoria had said I would be good with just my daughter’s birth certificate.  It was time to check that.

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View of Chapman’s Peak and Hout Bay from SC’s home

We rolled up to the check-in desk.  I smiled at the woman.  She smiled at me.  I handed over our passports.  Then she asked for the birth certificate and an affidavit.  I handed over the BC but said I did not have an “affidavit.”  The woman left the desk with the BC and huddled together with another woman.  They looked at the BC.  They looked at me.  They looked at one another.  What the what?  She then returned and began typing away on the computer – not a word to me.  Were we getting boarding passes or not?  After some seconds that felt much, much longer, I asked.  She told me the BC was sufficient.  Whew.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  But then she stepped away again.  Again some consultations with the supervisor.  She returned.  “I am afraid that we are going to need the affidavit.  Please step aside.”  Oh no!  I pulled out my secret weapon–a notarized document everyone had told me was unnecessary.  She looked it over, told me all was in order, and then printed out our boarding passes.  Crisis averted.  We were on our way!

Our flight took us to Johannesburg, where we cleared immigration (no single parent issues there), and then flew on to Cape Town.  My friend from college, SC sent an Uber to pick us up.  It took a wee bit of work to find him.  Once in the car I joked with the driver that the parking garage at the airport is larger than most buildings in Malawi (though I expect its true).  We wound through the darkened streets from the airport to SC’s home.  Even in the darkness, the development compared to Malawi was obvious.  At SC’s home, a smallish but beautifully appointed condo fronting the beach at Hout Bay, SC and I spent time catching up on old times and new while C and SC’s daughter M got to know one another.

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Norval Foundation sculpture garden

On our first full day we puttered around in the morning in our pajamas having a long leisurely breakfast while the kids played.  We took advantage of SC’s amazing view of the bay from both her yard and balcony.  Then we all headed out to the Norval Foundation to meet a half dozen of SC’s mom friends and their kids for a Mother’s Day lunch.  It was an interesting group, including another American Foreign Service Officer (working at the Cape Town Consulate) and another single mother.

The Norval Foundation is a just-opened (only two weeks before our visit) private museum of contemporary and South African art and sculpture garden, in addition to an incredibly beautifully designed restaurant.  There we gathered for an epic luncheon lasting over three hours.  Part of the reason it took so long was extremely slow service, but it was also the conversation.  And while the moms talked, the kids took advantage of the garden.  I regret I did not walk the whole garden or visit inside the museum!

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C as a squirrel monkey playground

On Monday SC had some morning meetings and M had preschool, so I booked my very first Uber driver to take C & I to the World of Birds (and surprise, surprise, our first Uber driver was a woman from Malawi!).  My initial impression of the place was not favorable.  I thought we might only spent 30 minutes, maybe an hour there.  But I was wrong.  World of Birds may predominantly feature birds, but there are many other animals there.  C particularly enjoyed seeing the guinea pigs, marmoset, servals (mostly she enjoyed that one serval took an immediate dislike to me and growled and hissed at me), and the squirrel monkeys.  The last were the absolute best as visitors can go inside the enclosure, sit still, and if monkeys crawled on you, then so be it.  We easily spent 30 minutes there alone.  C also loved the birds.  She took a liking in particular to the golden pheasant, which she immediately (and correctly) identified as Chinese.

 

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Penguins at Boulder’s Beach

That afternoon we met up again with SC and M, and headed to Noordhoek via the stunning Chapman’s Peak drive (rated as one of the most spectacular marine drives in the world).  There we enjoyed a long, late lunch while the children wore themselves out on the playground.  At 4 SC headed out–she would fly to London that night on business.  The girls and I returned to SC’s house for an evening of play and silliness.

 

Tuesday found C and I saying goodbye to M and her nanny, then Uber-ing to our hotel in the heart of Cape Town.  We settled in quickly and then walked to the Victoria and Albert Waterfront.  There we rode the Cape Wheel, visited the Two Oceans Aquarium, and searched for the best rocks at the Scratch Patch.  These were all fun, but there were also simple pleasures we had missed in Malawi — eating at McDonald’s (please do not judge — there are none in Malawi), walking through a shopping mall, the presence of sidewalks.

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View of the Peninsula from the Cape Point lighthouse

The following day we headed out on an epic tour of the Cape Peninsula.  We were once again blessed with stunning weather.  I had planned for weather in the region of 60-70 degrees but we were getting mid to upper 70s, even 80s.  The sky a dazzling blue.  While some may eschew the group bus tour, I sometimes find it provides just what we need.  This tour took us to Boulder’s Beach at Simon’s Town to see the penguins and the Cape Point National Park, to include the lighthouse, funicular, and the Cape of Good Hope.

IMG_0807This is someplace I had long wanted to visit, but I can not even begin to describe seeing it in person, being there with my daughter.  Everything was perfect.  Well, not everything.  There are downsides to taking a group tour after all.  One being having to wait for folks who are not conscious of other peoples’ time.  There was a walking tour from Cape Point to the Cape of Good Hope.  The guide informed us all beforehand that the hike would require a level of fitness, i.e. those with heart, back, feet, knee, breathing or other such problems should not join.  And still someone joined who should not have, and we all had to wait an extra hour for that individual to make their way to the bus.  This brought us back to the city late and earned us another hour sitting in traffic.

The obligatory trip up Table Mountain was next on our agenda.  Again, the day broke to reveal another absolutely beautiful day.  We took the hop on hop off sightseeing bus to the Table Mountain visitor’s center.  I had read of the potential long lines at the aerial cableway and could hardly believe our luck to find there was no line at all!  We simply paid and walked right on.  The gondola is large, it can hold 65 passengers, but it too was only half full.  What magic was this?  And then, the car began to rotate.  No kidding.  Although I had read up enough to know the aerial cableway existed, I had not known it would turn.  Mind blown.  And the views.  Wow.

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View from the cable car as it nears the top; a dassie chills out

At the top we took our time.  With the temps in the 70s and us standing 3500 feet atop a near-bare stone plateau, we were in need of some popsicles.  While looking out towards the southwest, with the spine of the mountains directly in front with the ocean against one slope, we caught sight of what appeared to be a large rodent of sorts on the terrace below.  My daughter, being the animal lover she is, identified it as a hyrax.  Turns out locals call them dassies.  But dassie or hyrax they were plentiful and inquisitive, and our visit to Table Mountain turned into as much about spotting these creatures as drinking in the breathtaking views.

We continued on the sightseeing bus back to the Victoria & Alfred Waterfront for lunch and then a short cruise of the harbor.  We were sleepy, lulled by the warmth of the afternoon sun and frankly little else we would see that day could compare with Table Mountain, though having Thai food and frozen yogurt at the mall sure came close.

DSC_0068The next day C and I ventured 45 minutes out of Cape Town to the Cheetah Outreach Centre.  C loves cheetahs.  They are her spirit animal.  In fact, she has told me for at least two years that she is half cheetah.  It’s true – that she tells me that.  In researching Cape Town I had found out about this place where one could not only see, but also touch cheetahs.  I had not realized how far out of town it is located.  I began to think it would be easier not to go, except that C would never forgive me.  Though I tried to explain the distance, she looked stricken at the idea of not going.  I had to make it happen.  Part of the problem was that my data roaming, though on, did not work.  I could order an Uber when connected to wi-fi, but otherwise could not.  There is no wi-fi at the center.  I thought of renting a car, but just was not keen.  I thought of pre-ordering an Uber for pick-up but was not sure how long we would need and concerned that without a connection to data, I would not be notified of the pick-up car details.  I took a chance though of just ordering an Uber and leaving it to fate to figure it out later.  And it worked.  The driver asked us how we were getting back and I took down his number and called him when we finished.

Given C’s age we were only able to take part in the adult cheetah encounter (she was too young to pet baby cheetahs, meerkat, or bat eared foxes).  No matter.  It is not every day you get the chance to stroke the fur of a live cheetah.  Though the Uber there and back cost more than the entrance and encounter fees by double, the big smile on my daughter’s face was, as they say, priceless.

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C and a squirrel have a chat

Afterwards, we headed back to town and on to the Company’s Garden.  Originally set up in the 1650s to grow produce for the Dutch East India Company “refreshment station,” where ships restocked on the voyage from Europe to the East Indies, it is now a heritage park on prime real estate in the center of old Cape Town.  And while the site of a beautiful historic garden is a good enough reason to visit, it is also the home to some incredibly hungry, and tame, squirrels.  At the park entrance several vendors sell packages of nuts to feed the very friendly rodents.  We hardly made it ten steps when a squirrel confronted us.  He knew the deal.  He knew we were newbies.  He knew enough to try to get our attention before we even entered the formal part of the garden.  Before we met his many friends.  He lucked out but so did many other squirrels.  I have never before in my life seen squirrels just run right up to people, climb up their leg, sit on their shoulder, and try to pry nuts from one’s hand.  It was so awesome.  I almost forgot that we had pet a cheetah that morning.

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Guinea fowl in Kirstenbosch

For our final day, we headed to the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden.  Located on the lush Eastern slopes of Table Mountain, Kirstenbosch is touted as one of the most beautiful botanic gardens in the world.  Certainly the setting is hard to beat and the dramatic backdrop reminded me of the Limahuli Gardens in Kauai.  Our favorite part of the gardens was probably the tree canopy walkway, which literally snakes its way through the tree tops 12 meters off the ground, so much so that it is referred to as the “boomslang” (tree snake).  Our visit coincided with our first cloudy day, yet the views were no less amazing.  SC and M joined us for another long lunch at the wonderful Moyo restaurant located at Kirstenbosch.

It was not easy leaving Cape Town.  It is easy to see why it is a favorite destination.  I very nearly had to drag C kicking and screaming to leave.  She insisted she wanted to stay.  I could hardly argue; the trip had been near perfect.  We hit so many of the highlights, enjoyed fabulous weather, spent time with friends, and had many, many great experiences with wildlife.   The Cap has spoiled us for upcoming vacations.