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Europe July 24 - Aug 5, 2005
Journal of France, Italy, Switzerland, and Germany


Day 1

In Flight
There seems to be so much to tell already, but I’m waiting for my body to slowly recover itself. I can not very well tell a good story when my body and mind don’t have the same enthusiasm as I feel in my heart.
Although I contracted a head cold shortly before setting off I was very fortunate not to experience any major pain on my flights. I actually had a really pleasant two flights. On my way to Washington DC, Dulles Airport, I could see out my window many checkerboard plots of land. I also saw funny, perfectly circular interruptions in the landscape which contrasted in color to the rest of the land. Each one a symmetrical blob of green water beaded up on the tan construction paper of the land. Other than that all was quiet and uneventful. My next flight though was a riot! Random people and beautiful scenery.
At first I was seated next to a very nice looking young Frenchman. He silently took care of all my luggage for me. Then when I was on the phone - someone came and they conversed quickly in French before they traded seats. And then there was a young teenage boy beside me. I was not expecting how much fun that would turn out to be. At first we had trouble for I knew practically no French and his accent masked a lot of his English. Although I must say it was beautiful to hear him speak. We had some trouble, but it did not last long for he began chattering a mil a minute to his friends across the way. Later throughout the flight he would look over to see what I was watching or writing. He invited me to play “gene” with him (jin - card game). And that began the development of a new friendship over the next five hours of the flight. Untamed curls and a love for people overwhelmingly embodied my new young friend. So much spunk that we had the flight attendants by us quite regularly just conversing. And somehow we (and I include myself because one of the girls made sure to set on aside for me) managed to all get a private serving of ice cream. Just the ten of us, no one else! Vanilla and strawberry in special glass bowls, YUM (fancier than anything the meals were served in)! I arrived at my seat and enjoyed our treat while the rest of the plane began to doze off. Romaine’s friends asked him to see if I would move so they could sit together and he refused. He said he liked talking to me. So we continued our games and talked of universite, work, family, travel we have both experience, oh and his host family in Rhode Island. After trying to get some sleep - which was difficult for two reasons: I had a headache and I didn’t want to miss out on the action all around me - I woke up next to a much taller Romaine named Andre. I learned of the program for exchange students for a 25 day period. There were 15 of them all in separate homes and not connected at all before. Andre must have been there for the ladies - for they came to him and this is how I met the girls. Andre says that in Paris young kids (8 years old) can by beer or cigarettes or even marijuana. Their parents tell them never to try such things, so of course he did. He is sorry now that he is hooked because he says it makes him want to do nothing. He had none in America and might try to keep it up. He also says that in Paris you drink beer or wine sometimes and you cherish its taste. Not like in the US where you go hard all weekend, just pounding it. He says we should enjoy it.

Day 2

But back to Romaine - he started helping me with my French. And before I knew it he was writing down phrases and teaching me pronunciations. Anything I wanted to learn. He was a joy to sit next to. At our arrival he took our picture together and we went our separate ways. (All the kids had fancy digital cameras in hand)

To the Hotel
Getting to my hotel from there was another whole ordeal. I had a prepaid reservation with the Airport Connection Shuttle after my flight. Well they weren’t at Gate 8 or 20 or 18down or Gate 1 as I was told to look after spending 20 minutes at one location waiting. To make it short I called the shuttle’s telephone number and asked where my shuttle was. Well, apparently my confirmation number was not authentic and my cell phone would not work to call Kara or mom to help me check into it. So I sat there thinking for a while, alone in a foreign place with very little sense of direction. I was not about to get on a train into Paris without some idea as to where to go. I didn’t even where abouts my hotel was. So I thought, I can wait all day here or get to my hotel. So I paid a taxi to get me there. And he chose a very round about way of driving me there (he obviously knew I was a tourist - and I should have known where I was going). I paid him a fork load of money for a 25 minute trip and was finally safe in my hotel! Sigh of relief. And this is where it stopped - my energy, my mind, and all my senses shut down. I was more sick than I began and I’d been chillin in an airport for almost three hours. I finally just collapsed on the couch in the lobby until my room was ready. I had hoped to go walking in peace - but had no power to do so. I needed sleep . . . and rest.

Paris
So that afternoon the ladies and I headed to dinner at a very touristy French restaurante called Le Bosquet. I had herring and Chablis (equivalent to American Chardonnay). Oh and best of all I had Crème Brule! Crisp on top, but not thick and a cool custard underneath. Creamy, not even rich just a perfect Brule consistency. Then we walked to the Eiffel Tower. I still don’t think its real to me. So powerful and intimidating in harsh rust grey-red. Deep and dark with no sun to illuminate its hidden corners. But we sat along the Seine and as we watched its silence I began to feel empowered by it. We waited for night to get tickets to the second floor, of three, and missed the big line. Many of the gentlemen carried bottles of wine in the back pockets or just in hand and drank from the bottle.
Well, we got off the “lifts” on the second floor when we discovered that Cindy’s camera battery was dead and I had left my extra film in the hotel! Craziness! But I was able to just soak it up without interruption. What a view - little white and cream milk cartons upside down and boxed together like sardines. Here a big tall skyscraper, but then there’s downtown Paris - massive buildings and all concentrated together. But the best of all was looking up at the rest of the tower all a glow - amber radiance. Above me so high that I had to lean back and back and back until - well you might as well lay down . . . and get stomped on by the multi-ethnic tourists who have no regard to personal space. The masses crowd around and its funny that they will walk beside you or stand right next to me facing me, almost touching bodies!
But you get used to them walking right next to you or crossing right in front of your face and who cares - you’re at the Eiffel Tower! When lit it emanates a red gold hue. But better still is when Le Tour Eiffel sparkles. Strobe-like lights the size of my head were situated up to the tope every five feet or so.. And they ran up almost every steel plate that I could see. So when they turned on those lights each flash brought the tower more into the romantic awe of the City of Love. Couples swoon and caress and that moment has even more meaning to them. An experience, phenomenal, beautiful, shares as a memory with the one you love. Like a fireworks show, but in Le Tour Eiffel.
Now I must say I was not really able to soak up this beauty without interruption, though I tried. We arrived outside on the balcony and all started to just meander. Well, Ruth freaked out that we would loose each other for good. So she grabs me and tells me I can’t move, while she goes in search of everyone else. I was enjoying myself. But then she brings Cindy over and I start to walk to the left and she says “Cortney, you have to stay here” in a very angry-mother-tone! And when she managed to pin us all down she was rushing us onto the elevator to leave!! Can you believe it - we probably got to spend hardly 20 minutes up there. And I was so tempted to sneak off the elevator with them and just stay on the second floor for longer. But it was the beginning of the trip and I was trying to be amiable.

That climaxed our evening and we went back to the hotel to get a good night sleep and to be rested for the next day packed with sight seeing.

Day 3

The Orsay
We woke up early with the sun and zipped on the Metro to the Orsay Museum. There we viewed many amazing works by the impressionists Degas, Monet, Van Gogh, and Renoir. More beautiful in real life than I’d ever seen in small reproductions. Degas really liked to paint ballerina girls, naked adult women, and other odd things. We saw Van Gogh’s self portrait and Renoir’s painting of the people (Dance at the Moulin de la Galette). It was quite worth it. Next we walked over to Notre Dame which was just a bit away. Quite a monument: vast, shadowed and stiff. Dark but deep secrets it seemed to hide. The back of the building is even more a site than the front. Behind is a garden and the flying buttresses. Very intimidating as it almost glared down at you, each gargoyle ready to pounce on any unwelcome spirits. But a rigid, stately monument.
From there we walked across the island shopping a bit and then stopping at a café to get out of the rain. Cindy Murray and I took that opportunity to walk across the street to photograph St Gervais Church and Hotel de Ville (big and long like the Louvre). When the rest of the group had rested their feet we were off again. Cindy and Karen Murray had to go back to the hotel to get some work done while Ruth, Cindy, and I headed to Saint Chapelle Church. Now that was a sight!

Saint Chapelle
The exterior looked like torn down apartments but as with any treasure - its what is inside that matters. We had to climb tiny (claustrophobic) windy stairs that went up, up, up. But then the angels began to sing and the closer tot the top step the louder they called for you to come and look at the gleaming rainbow each window patchquilted. Ceilings stretched their fingers into the walls and sunk down down to our low level. Red, blue, yellows-warmth. For me it was more joyful to see than Notre Dame’s interior. Alive and glad to praise the Lord - so awesome that it made me tear up a bit. To think the Lord inspired hearts to build such things for the people of His Kingdom. Can you imagine what heaven will be like for us if it is made by God’s inspiration? We will each live in a St. Chapelle or Notre Dame or Tour Eiffel! Can you imagine Christ’s throne - not just angels will sing but all heaven and earth. And not just stained glass windows will glow but all the white light will blind us from His throne. Do you see it, does it hurt your eyes too?

But our journey that day did not end there. Ruth went back to the hotel (at 5pm mind you) to put down for the night . . . But . . . Cindy and I pressed on. We walked, let me say that one more time, we walked to the Louvre. Yes we did, no Metro. There we were in awe again of architects back in those times. This building stretched on and on, long and tall on both sides of us. And up the center was the glass pyramid. And two small pyramids adjacent, and one in front and one behind. We walked down along the window and saw that under the pyramid was the great entrance. A city underground - with mall and restaurants and a monstrous museum with four museum-sized exhibits. Just huge; but we only looked for it was closed then.

Arch de Triumphe
Yet again we had not finished our evening. We took the metro to the Arch de Triumphe. What a sight - stately, unmoving. And beautiful. Cindy and I sat observing it from the sidewalk for there were 6-8 lanes of traffic surrounding it on all sides. Some young kids had decided that the only way to get across was to run in front of the cars. So we watched, too afraid to do it ourselves. But I must admit we did allow it to cross our minds once or twice and then we said “Nah, don’t want to risk my life.” So I decided to cross a few streets surrounding it to look for a crosswalk. After talking with the metro lady I found that the entrance was exactly where I had begun. There was a stairway under the street which brought you up to the center of the Arc. So Cindy and I went and then . . . climbed many many stairs to the very top. People stopped numerous times on the way up, but I made it with one rest stop. Once there I decided nothing thus far could compare to the view up here.
You are on top of the city and every street cuts directly to you. You are the center. Each street lined with bushes and lampposts and they head away towards the Eiffel Tower or downtown Paris or the Louvre. On all sides of you is panoramic cityscape, the French and their big city. That was on of my favorite places to relax. The 6 (or who knows how many) flights of stairs made it even more of a quest to finish - and now this was the triumph, the treasure! To fill that quiet awe with words of description would be a disservice - so let it be so without reading on for another minute or two.

Cindy and I soaked up every minute of it until we were saturated. And then we headed home (9pm at night). After freshening up at our hotel room we headed out for dinner. Café de March was it; crowded and chattery. We were placed in a tiny corner elbowing the table next to us, but were pleased to be there. Our server only spoke French and so that was funny - he laughed at us - but we managed to order and enoy quite unique meals. Cindy ordered moullex de chocolat and practically died and went to heaven it was so good! Molten chocolat inside and tiny brownie-sized cake on the outside served with melted vanilla ice cream. And I had Salade de Chevre Chaud which was a green salad with couscous on the side and two toasted bread croutons filled with warmed goat cheese.
It was a full day - but I enjoyed it so much for that. In one swift motion I was caught up in every beauty of Paris: every monument and authentic restaurant, the culture, the people, and their life.

Cat Calls
Men in France have many ways of trying to get a girl’s attention. If they think she’s cute or good lookin, they make sure she knows. A lot of the time it is subtle but sometimes it is very forward.
I can’t count how many times I had a station or bus lined with open seats and the guy would come and sit in the very seat next to me. Not even one in between, but next to me when I am sitting alone. Or at the Louvre I would stand gazing at a painting and a young man would come and stand almost shoulder-to-shoulder with me looking at the painting (supposedly).
Obviousl attention includes smooching/kissing noises as you walk by (common) and loud enough for everyone else to hear, or stares as you walk by, or looks from guys with their car windows down - they crane their necks even as they pass you.

Day 4

The Louvre
This day we got up and headed to the Louvre to meet Cindy and Karen. Oh, the Louvre was monstrous. We spent some three hours in it and had to practically whisk through one floor (of the four). Although we did see some beautiful paintings and sculptures, we did manage to see the Mona Lisa and other famous pieces. Leonardo’s lady had so many heads about her that I could only make eye contact with her above the crowd, the rest was entirely blocked out. On our way we came up to the Winged Victory of Somathrace - a heavenly sculpture ready to lift off her podium and ascend back into the light. We also so saw Aphrodite (Venus de Milo) along with some old Greek sculptures - less detailed and preserved than those Kara and I had seen in Greece. Every room we entered had either vaulted ceilings with intricate architecture or vibrant murals looking down on you. We saw sculptures and many paintings - large and beautiful. But our time there was limited. We headed back out the great pyramid by escalator and watched the mobs of people get smaller and smaller. We had visited the Denon and Sully exhibits, quickly that day. Oh and there’s a wall on the lowest floor - that is how you get to the museum by metro. But everyone else must enter into the pyramid. Of the hundreds of doors on the buildings exterior - none are used as entrances.

Champs Elysees
We met Karen and Cindy, and then headed to the Champs Elysees by metro. Here we hoped to shop among Gucci, Prada, Armani and many other designer stores. Oh - and I must mention that this street is where the Tour d’France ends. And we had only missed it by a few days. But anyways . . . to shop, but it began to rain. And not the kind the Parisians ignore and truck through - the kind that sends everyone dashing into the nearest café for shelter and a warm the. Shopping really was not going to work unless one wanted to be soaking wet. So I took pictures and we found a quaint place to eat. Expensive as usual. Do as the French do!
Now, since our plan was not working out we decided to head over to Cindy Murray’s hotel (Le Grande Hotel) for a visit and some rest. The metro had us there in under 10 minutes and we sat in Cindy’s more than lavish accommodations soaking up the wealth. Embroidered slippers, glass bathroom and voluptuous bed. We checked our email and sat around chatting. I soon began to grow restless - for it was our third day in Paris and we had not a minute to lose.

Opera House
So Karen and I decided we wanted to see the inside of the Opera House right across the street. At the door the friendly bag checker smiled and asked me how I was doing - obviously fishing for more. I spoke a bit of French to him and he grinned. If he hadn’t had to change stations I think (by the look on his face) that he would let us in for free. But no matter, it was worth it! The grand staircase was not just one but many-pronged. It began as one gracefully rich sweep upward until it grew even larger into two which spiraled around to another level. Karen and I found the reception area, or perhaps the small ballroom round and all mirrored. To imagine yourself dancing in all manner of gowns visible from any vantage point in the room. And then up on the level of the museum artifacts and then to the boxes. Each with a golden handled door knob. But what I enjoyed most was what must have been the dining hall. I have a picture which will do it the most service, but golden everything: walls, chairs, chandeliers, and ceilings. And up above you on that ceiling was a mural of several flying figures depicted just as if you really were looking up at them in the sky. They flew close together, legs dangling above you, and clothes draped and windcaught. That was my favorite painting, for I had to keep looking as if to reassure myself that they really were not gliding above me. Although we did not visit Versailles I think I got a wonderful taste of glamorous 18th century mansions in all magnificence.

From there our day was still active but calmer. We walked down a few streets to an indoor mall where we picked up souvenirs and gifts. On the roof of the building we could see everything. I took more pictures and soaked up the 360˚ of Paris. Still at 5pm in the afternoon, many are at home resting before the night begins.
And as someone was tired we had to head back to the hotel. Again by metro we zoomed across the map back to the Seine and Ecole Militaire. I stayed in and did some writing and made phone calls while the ladies headed out to find some dinner. Some hours later they brought back a Greek-style pasta layered meat dish for me. It was the only thing they could find that they could bring back with them. Everyone else had said they could only have it if they stayed and sat to eat it. Interesting how their culture does not do takeout!? But I really enjoyed the food. So the ladies hit the sack early and I couldn’t close my eyes where there was so much going through my head.
So downstairs I went with my Bible, devotions and journal. In the tiny foyer/dining hall/sitting area combo I sat down to write. Everything pouring out of me, rushing, overflowing faster than I could write it down. Sometime later (its now around 1am) the concierge who had been watching TV in the side room came out to say “hi.” Well, I was wide awake and so we just talked about my travels and the little bit that I could remember of French. And he said he thinks it is so “cute” when American’s speak French, apparently our accent makes it sounds semi-attractive. But he told me of his work and a little about the area and how he ended up in Paris. Although I do not remember all of the details, I do remember that we chatted for almost an hour before he decided to let me finish my work. Although he did say that he would love to show me around Paris on his day off. He was available in the morning I thought and it would be fun to walk and see things the natives enjoy. So we said we’d make further plans the next day.

The Metro
It has perhaps two personalities out of which grows two unique Parisian metro cultures. In the morning all is dead and still - even the static air dares not flinch for fear of upsetting such absence. Fewer people occupy the station loading zones but many around seated aboard the trains. Inside the car almost all are seated and well-dressed for work. There is absence on their faces and silence upon their lips. We wait for the hiss of brakes, the doors whisp shut and we are locked into a time capsule. No movement or event occurs between stops; no voice or look or page turns until the door opens. Then life begins and we jump out into action. One could ride that train each morn and never know there was anyone aboard. But once you step off you’re jerked onto the moving ramp of city life.
That is only one of his personalities. The other embodies the metro after work hours and deep into 10 and 11 at night. A moist coat you wear upon every inch of skin - not wet, just saturated. You walk among black and red, cream and blue, green and black, grey, white, yellow, grey, grey, green, black. Each lines up against the doorways and herd quickly in before the toll bell hums. Find a place to stand - no one sits for there is not room. Perhaps of course you really would like to be stood on top of. There is a low buzz of voices which have at the end of the hot day the energy to speak. Although it is muffled by the density of the risen air - suffocating. To be still is easiest although one may catch a glimpse of others glancing their way and pass on a moments’ smile. Glance here and there to find a willing smile from almost all, drawing them nearer home after a long day. But little room to ask about the day or how they enjoyed themselves. Each fears having to get too close and nearing another moist humid body - too hot - save don’t speak until you walk up the stairs and into the crispness of daylight.

Parisian Men
I met so many men on this entire trip that I must dedicate some time to their characters. On the plane flight to Paris I enjoyed so much the company of Romaine, the young teenager. He had been so sweet to stay seated with me and talk, struggle through the English language, for the entirety of the trip. And to play cards with a weird stranger who doesn’t know the language of the country they are flying into. He was such a doll, asking me all manner of silly questions about family, work, school, money, friends. And to befriend the flight attendants so much so that they were coming to visit us. Well, he was a joy.
Then there was Germaine who replaced Romaine as I slept and he had a very ladies-man way of speaking. He had a way with words, and I loved listening to him speak. He was young too, but genuine when telling me about his smoking problem. He was so honest and had nothing to hide, but almost shared so much that I began to think no drugs are illegal in France. But I laugh about some, and relish the thought.
Toufic was not really a Frenchman, I think he was from the Middle-East (at least that is where his fiancé is from). He too was just friendly and so willing to stop his work and ask how my day was going. Willing to talk without time restraints.
And then there were the policeman who still makes me laugh. I am such a naïve fool sometimes. When the ladies and I were going through the security check before entering Sainte Chappelle we had to send our bags through a radiation check, like at the airport. Well everyone else had gone through but my bag kept going in and back out of the machine. Strangest thing, it would come out and just before I could get to it it would start to go back in a gain. So I look at the guy behind the computer and he shrugs like “I don’t know,” but the guard next to me has a hint of smile. So I laugh, grab my bag and give them a look. There was a blonde guy behind another desk who had the biggest smile. I asked them why they had to mess with me and they said something silly. I slugged him in the arm gently and headed out the door. When I looked back the blonde had stepped into the doorway and was watching me leave. I smirked back!! He was pretty cute, if only I had been less bashful. Funny!
Oh, and then there was the guy in Provence who said something to me in French as he smiled at me. I was walking around the little streets just observing and he caught my eye and said something about my legs. Then I told him in French that I really don’t speak very much French. But he pursued me further, I asked him several times to repeat himself and I think he grew frustrated. So he shrugged and said something about it being too bad that I didn’t speak French. I quickly walked off; he was a little too pushy for me. But he was pretty attractive; cocoa skin, dark hair, and a nice figure. All the men here are shapely, not fat or string beans, just right.

Day 5

Boat Tour
Well today has not been very structured and I have led us all in the wrong direction. We have had so many complications just to get to one location. Several of us travelers were frustrated (some with me) that the bus system was so difficult and not as easy to figure out. We never walked or traveled the wrong direction . . . but . . . we lingered in several locations just to figure out which corner or side our bus would stop on. And then we had to walk more than everyone wanted to (although I personally loved the walking).
Our morning began on a boat tour near the Eiffel Tower. It traveled along the Seine passing the Orsay Museum, the Louvre, Notre Damn and the Palace Gardens. It was very enjoyable and I got many a postcard photograph. Todays also began with sun and blue sky. I brought a jacket but have yet to use it; my umbrella has been up and down nonstop all day. The rain has come and gone regardless as to the presence of warm sunshine. I must confess that I do like seeing sunshine while being wetted by the rain. It makes the rain glisten and shine like drops of icicle. As if the heavens have dropped little gems that have up till now kept their amber halos. The rain does not stop the Parisians - they pull out their umbrellas and treck on to work or life.


Pitter patter
crowded bus
pitter patter
off to find a café for lunch pitter
patter
damp hair
we’ll soon be there
pitter patter
drip
walk to work pitter patter
under a sheltered doorway
listen


Jardon de Louxembourge (Luxembourge Gardens)

Alas we made it onto buses and metro that got us to Jardon de Luxembourge. We sat in a sweet café and rested our feet. All the tables face the street and there is the best view for people watching - which Parisians do best. After lunch we entered the gardens which extend perhaps as far as those of the Golden Gate Park in California. A sweet pond in the middle caresses small boats of red and blue. Children with sticks wait at the edge for theirs to return, only to send it off basking again. Calmly, relaxing, voices and wind, just sitting in peace with the Father. I loved just sitting and soaking up my surroundings. Stillness with beauty often awaken the most reverence for God’s beautiful creation.
When the group was tired of being at the park/Gardens (although I was not inclined to leave) we headed for the bus to get us on our way back to the hotel. And then the sun disappeared and it began to pour; first since our stay in Paris!! We watched from our spots on the covered bus; umbrellas up everywhere and strollers with plastic shields over them. Soon we were at Ecole Millitaire and walking with our umbrellas, or hats, or bags protecting us from the rain. As a group we finished the night out with the crowded Café de Marche and moelloux de chocolat.

Nuit ą le Tour Eiffel
But Karen and I weren’t tired after that so we walked to the Eiffel Tower to sit and get pictures of it sparkling. The park there was still bubbling with people at 11:30 at night. For the first time I felt like I could sit and enjoy Paris for as long as I wanted - with no one rushing me. And amazingly I began to really enjoy where I was and appreciate what I was seeing. It was beautiful, Paris, lovers everywhere I could see, people sitting in the grass playing their guitars or smoking their long hash pipes or selling little glowing Tour Eiffels. It warms you from the inside to just sit and see it vast and almost too large to soak up with one’s vision. Real - I have seen it; I sat there watching it as it watched me. Just one more tourist, but still curious to see what affect it could have on me. All the more proud, but wishing just a little bit to be able to come down and ask me why I sit so quiet. But like a soldier on duty - he had to remain unmoved and erect. Proud.

Later Karen and I headed back to our hotel, but I did not get us there direct. I knew how but at night I turned us the wrong way. So we went on a twenty minute detour. Again I am humbled although I really have gotten to know the streets around Paris as if it were my home. I can get us anywhere by subway and by bus (well who knows).


Toufic
At this point I do not wish to write about the rest of the evening but I will for future reference. I brought the master key for our room back down to the concierge who was again Toufic - my new friend. He was not behind the desk now but in one of the lounge chairs relaxing. I came and sat and talked with him for a while. I asked him how his day was and the conversation flourished from there. He asked if I had a boyfriend and I told him about Jeff and how the distance made it hard for us. And then he told me he had a fiancé in Algeria! I was amazed, he said they had been engaged for a year and a half and would not marry for maybe another two years. He was looking for steady work for their future. And because they were not yet married, he could not talk to her only through someone in the family. So distance made it very difficult for him (and I was complaining). Soon I got up to go to bed and since we had to leave Paris early the next morn he and I would not be able to hang out the next day. So we said our goodbyes. Great guy and I was so sad to think of what he had to be struggling with. But I think it was ok we did not hang out more. We got to see so much on our own and it was time to move on the Provence and the French Riviera!!!
Day 6

Train to Avignon
We awoke early and took a taxi to the train station. The taxi driver had a worship CD in but I had such a hard time recognizing the songs because the lyrics were in French. After listening a bit I recognized Crucified and The Cross. It was so refreshing to hear a familiar tune and hum along.
Because of our obsessive group member we arrived at the train station 50 minutes early! We had the privilege then of spending precious time stuck in a train station with nothing to do. Train times are never early; the only change if they are late. One only needs to give time to load the train and leave. But it is ok, we are on our way and the French countryside is beautiful. Trees and forests, like in fairytales, green everywhere and then small plots of farmland. I am in the children’s and families’ car. Many babies babbling, or crying, or fussing. But they are still cute and they play pee- a-boo and smile at me.
I met yet another Frenchman, but this one was very unique (or perhaps the most strange I will ever meet). When I arrived at my seat, there he was sprawled across both of our seats. Long wavy hair and unshaven face, he greeted me politely and then Began in French. Now is the brief moment to mention that people tend to do that - they run off to me in French wherever I am. In the metro, on the street, on the bus or anywhere - I take it I look semi-Parisian of I look like I know my way around. So he did not hear me ask “parle vous anglais?” So I asked again and he stopped. Well as the ride progressed we conversed some here and there in English. He is the second person I have met who voluntarily tells me about all of the drugs they like and what parties they go to. He also left the car several times to smoke some plastic rapped homemade gray thing which smelled like marijuana. He told me all about the mushroom raves and how the Pope is in Avignon for a time! He also told me that he’d be a good father once on sleeping pills (we were in the crying baby’s car). It was a very good thing when we went our separate ways, although he was very kind and offered me some of his lunch.

Driving the Rental Car
Once we got our rental car our adventures began. Ruth wanted to drive but the car was stick and we stalled about five times before even being three-quarters of the way out of our parking spot (not kidding). Then she finally let Cindy drive and we got through the parking lot only to be stopped at a gate. We needed some ticket which we didn’t have and the cars behind us began honking. So Karen gets out of the car to ask the honkers for help. Soon a service person jogged over with a ticket for us. So we did actually get out and on the road only to realize that none of us had looked at a map to see where we needed to go. So Cindy’s saying “where do I go” and one of us with a map says “that was it.” Or she amazingly turns here then there and we are right where we need to be. Quick turns and numerous turn-abouts made all of us eager to get out of car, but I must say no one could have gotten us to our location better than Cindy!
So we made it to the hotel (awesome!), and it was extremely spacious and tidy. We headed into town (2 blocks) for dinner and found that few shops were open yet - as the dinner hour is more like 8-11pm. We were hungry at 6pm because the train had not had food like it said. But we found a place, and then had some amazing gelato!!!!

Parisian Filles
Women here are so different. Not much makeup or fingernail polish or acrylic nails or fake tans or unnatural hair colors. Still dressed very stylishly: heals, pearls, jewelery, and fancy purses. Jeans are common on women but they have big pocket flaps or zippers and ties with patterns and bleach streaks. There are few little short skirts, absolutely no shorts, and no thongs showing out of low rise jeans. Women’s clothing is fairly modest here, not a lot of low cut shirts except for those that expose the bra - which was fairly common. And bra straps everywhere. Leopard print bra with aqua tank top or brown top with pink bra straps. It was kind of funny, but it really didn’t matter if any of the back of the bra was covered, and then there were those who didn’t use one at all. Most seemed nice when working in a store, but on the street they were not so friendly. Maybe you’d say a little bit stuffy.
Young girls here are very cute, beautiful loose brunette curls and porcelain faces. The long free white skirts are common and dainty.
Everywhere so many pretty faces.

Day 7

Isle Sur LaSorgue
Well we began the day by driving to the Romaine ruins north of our hotel by 45 minutes. On the way we stopped at several wineries to take photographs or sample wines. Cindy ended up buying some at the second stop with the very sweet old lady who only spoke French. We then trucked onward to the ruins but saw signs for a chateau and decided to take a detour. It was quite a sight - steep hillside city with small homes throughout (even currently inhabited). A vast countryside view from above and many quaint cobblestone paths. A wonderful photo opportunity.
Then we drove on to the ruins and got very sidetracked in the town. First we had trouble knowing where to park or even where to find the ruins. So we headed upward but got to shopping. We found linens stores and postcard stores and flower stores - everything. I actually found some good gifts there. And then we headed to the ruins. One of the two exhibits was closed, but the other seemed to be the upper city. There Ruth and I climbed up to the top where the tower was and a beautiful view of the city. But since not everyone was up for walking the small hill I cam back down quickly. No time to soak up the old city. As with many things here I have had to move on the next stop with no time to appreciate where I was. Although, if I had it my way I may not have seen so many things in such a brief trip. It has been a good day though.
From there we moseyed back through the shops and towards the car. Once we had purchased all we could we drove on to the lavender fields. Although they are not really in bloom anymore, they are still a bit purple. After at least an hour of windy road we arrived at a field and yes it was worth it! The smell that filled my nostrils was so fresh and light that one would wish it would always smell that way. Purple everywhere - across the fields - dense - rich as royalty. Now I know that somewhere in Heaven we will all have our own lavender fields. They are so serene and phenomenal. Such a retreat for the eyes.
But at this point I was very tired of a day of driving - it was now 6pm and we had begun at 10am. So I slept through the rest of the driving and town shopping in hopes of swimming at the hotel. (But it was sooooo cold). So we went to a small Italian place for dinner - laughed and again we had a kind French waitress. Our French is limited and “tres amusant” for the natives and all of our servers. After we talked and drank the ladies left and I stayed to write (and finish my wine). I wanted time alone to enjoy Provence and the French people around me. And that is exactly what I did. No rush, just sit and soak up the language as best I could. The waitress ended up talking to me for a bit about photography and cameras. We had the same brand and make of camera. She told me about her darkroom and the fun she has taking pictures as she feels like it. She asked me what I write about and I told her of some of my travel plans.
I am so glad to be here - it is a calm town - not crazy like Paris. And the people linger and walk the streets at night. They even have time to sit and talk with you. This is such a good place to vacation, and love life.

Day 8

Provence
Today I have come to a conclusion. Provence and the rest of Southern France is the place for love. Couples walk the crowded streets together on market day; couples sit in cafes talking from eight to closing; they walk hand in hand in the morning; they stop and kiss in the walkway. Even old couples can’t help but capture the hand of their loved on. It seems everyone has a special someone close behind or at their side. Some young pairs even have little ones in strollers or carried on their shoulders. But everyone is in love and nothing, not even the people-filled sidewalks, can interrupt that passion. Still they swoon and caress before all of us that they are caught up - but no one need save them.
And it is here that I do not feel alone, but long to have my special one here too. It makes my heart smile to be reminded by all that I too am so lucky. But this is where all loves should come to be a part of the ambiance and further the winds of passion that skip through these trees. I am so blessed to be a part of this. I can’t believe I’m sitting here on my patio with a smooth breeze across my skin and the French lyrics of live musicians in the air. Guitar and violin putting me at peace. For once I do not have to move, I have permission to just be.

Market Day
I spent the morning walking the market (which comes to town once a week). Fruits; melons, grapes, nectarines, watermelon; olives of every color, size and flavor; and some vegetables and nuts. There was a lot of discounted clothing, cute linens and pottery. Jewelry was also everywhere. The atmosphere was my favorite though; everyone speaking French, crowding around you, weaving through, and even a parade went through the tight street crowded to the seams with people. I even heard 107.9 “the end” translated into French on the radio there!! Pretty funny! I walked quietly a part of something genuine and native carrying my bag of nectarines and another of presents for my family.
When I arrived back to my hotel room, the ladies headed off for another road trip and I declined. I wanted to write, do laundry, swim, email family and call Jeff. I loved it - walking along the Isle Sur La Sorgue river (creek really) and I found birds and waterfalls to keep me busy. It is such a sweet small town. Sweet shops of pottery, linens or fresh fruit.
Later that evening I went out again after swimming on the roof. I was in search of a good dinner spot and found the streets brimming with people. Some were sitting in stadium seats by the river and few were in the sidewalk cafes typical of 10pm at night. Everyone was crowding next to the water so I decided I had to skip dinner to see what the whole town had come out for. It was a floats parade of lights! Three to five men paddles these one story floats down the creek and amazingly turned them twice around (without so much as a bump against the side of the tiny river) and then swiftly took it back upstream. There was a depiction of Spain, India, the Cinema, the Americans (cowboys), and the soldiers at the Arc de Triumphe. Each decorated entirely in crape paper and lights representing gorgeous trees and houses and elephants. Apparently certain families make floats every year of anything they want and the only way for anyone else to get a chance is if the traditional family gives up their right to make the float. The parade happens once a year and we just happened to be there! Perfect!

Day 9

Trains
It is funny, I have come back to this page to write and have forgotten how our morning began so I will just to what I remember. At noon this day we drove to the train station in Aix-en-Provence to get all of our tickets and reservations squared away for the last part of the trip. On a side note that was more of a two hour stop, redoing and reredoing several sets of tickets at the wrong times and to the wrong locations which almost made my Eurail pass useless. Thankfully Karen figured out that something was wrong and did all the straightening out for me - or I would have forked over the money not understanding where I was going. But we solved it all eventually and got in the car again for a few more hours. We drove through Cannes - and now all I can remember of it was traffic on the grey, squished city streets.

Antibes/Cannes
The city of Antibes is crazy - just crazy. We had had little difficulty driving in a foreign country until now. First of all we had only one hand drawn Rick Steve’s map of the area. No real map, and we really had no idea where our hotel was once we got into the town. The reason the driving was so crazy was that there were round-abouts and square-abouts and streets going up and left while two other go over it and down and neither of which are on the map! Then there was traffic and itty-bitty streets that were parked so full that they didn’t even look like streets anymore. We miraculously found signs directing us towards our hotel once we were off the Rick Steve’s map. It is amazing how many times we had to drive in circles through the city’s center just to locate one that went south.
The area was just like Beverly Hills. Palm trees, small unmarked clean streets lined with 10foot gates and shrubbery to hide the mansions standing behind. It was a quiet street and high up on the hill the city was situated on. The sky was blue, the grass was bright green, and the roofs were all orange, red of tile. And the sun was glowing.
We practically dropped our things at our very gentle, homey hotel, pass the husband and wife who own it, and head to the beach. Ten minute walk and we had our feet in the warm sand and perfect water of the Mediterranean. It felt so good; the sand was silk on my feet in the cool water. Not icy, but warmly refreshing. If I had had my suit on I could have walked right in. And that says a lot about the temperature of the water. Ruth and Cindy sat down to have a drink while Karen and I scrunched our toes up in the sand; went in as far as we could with rolled up capris; and piddled and chatted in the waves of sunset. Warm sun on our shoulders and alas no humidity. A gorgeous day!
As always we were being rushed so we went upstairs of a small beachside café and had the ritziest dinner I’ve ever paid for myself. We had a sommelier pouring our wine each time we needed refills. And I had my best meal of the entire trip - the linguine de clams. Amazing sauce and such flavor. Fancy, Fancy! And when we finally left it was raining. Craziness!

Day 10

Grasse/Antibes
Having only one full day here we thought we’d find out what was most important to see. Although we were told we would not see it all; we tried. We had a late start and enjoyed a fresh breakfast from le Petit Casino right down the street. Karen and I had a baguette with proscutto and some amazing, I mean almost as good as the whole meal the night before, cheese. We also had fresh blackberries and strawberries, all of which we enjoyed on the patio under the palms at our hotel. Cobblestone patio with a small covered thatch bar and café tables. Just what I’d prefer for a vacation in France.
So we headed off to Grasse to the perfumeries which it is famous for. We went on a tour where we learned about the perfume making process and sampled many unique fragrances. I learned that perfume in glass, clear bottles lasts 6 months while in aluminum bottles the fragrance will last up to 7 years. Also that they use to lay the petals of flowers in fat and then use alcohol to extract the fragrance from the fat. But now they just use Ether which we obviously could not observe them doing. Once they have the “essence” of the flower they use many fragrances to make one perfume. A bottle may have around six different flower’s essences in it combined. I really found it interesting, although I did not find a perfume for myself. But we got to experience it and learn which I really enjoyed.
When we had smelled so much that everything smelled like everything, we decided to head back to the beach in Antibes. So we swam at a tiny little strip of sandy beach with many people. But we swam, oh yes, in the Mediterranean. And there were children in the water, and some topless women, and a beautiful setting sun. We rested there for a time and I so enjoyed the calm of the water. Like the slow waves were cooing a baby to sleep. It stilled all motion for me so that nothing could distract from the moment I was in.

Jain-les-Pains
The cool breeze came back and encouraged almost everyone out of the water. We headed into Jain-les-Pains for dinner and some night life although Ruth didn’t want to stay out yet again. Eight o’clock was her preferred bed time. But we ate at an open-air pizzeria right on the water, and enjoyed much conversation as we have grown accustomed to doing in the evenings. Afterwards we walked the streets just a bit to see the night life. People everywhere, dressed up, the guys in packs and the girls walking in pairs or trios. We passed one Tahitian/Hawaiian looking bar called “PomPom” and were later told that that is the town hotspot. Everyone goes there at one point in the evening and there was even a band playing that night. But we had brought the car so when Ruth wanted to leave we all had to. So we drove back to the hotel at 10:30 or 11 and everyone went in for the night. Except me, I was WIDE AWAKE!

Christophe
I could not go to bed so I decided to go sit out on the patio of the hotel where it was quiet and relaxing. I didn’t really want to walk back into town by myself late at night so I thought it would be nice to read my devotions and write in my journal. But still I was squirmy so I walked a bit and looked at the stars. Back and forth, no thinking, not a thought; just pure enjoyment, pleasure.
But the concierge of the hotel wanted to know if everything was OK or did I want a drink, etc until he finally understood that I was relaxing. But I was still antsy so I went in to see if I could chat with the concierge and try some common French drink. He was young and friendly and spoke English well enough to understand what I was looking for. So I tasted “Lemonshira”, a sweet liqueur with a lemon flavor. But a fragrance potent enough to knock you over. Like a midori but thicker and sweeter. He also showed me 51 which is like Greek ouzo, licorice flavored. And we talked about travel; travel everything. I told him about where we’d been so far and where we were headed. He told me where he’d been which included Africa, Thailand, and Taiwan and at least eight other locations which I can’t even name. And he has a list of some five other major places he wants to visit - they included Alaska and California. We moved the conversation outside once I finished my drink. We talked about school and past jobs and thought of future jobs. We talked about family, friends, and France. I learned that he is from France, but is several hours from family. He used to work at a beach café but was overworked and had no time to rest. They worked them 10hour days and allowed no days off during the four months of high season. So he got this job with the hotel because the owners are like family to him (second parents kind of). He’s been through three years of training to become a licensed swim instructor. He is also on an Antibes swim team that practices daily and competes once a month. I am sure he is a far better swimmer than I. But he loves teaching little kids and so we were able to share some funny stories there.
Well, it was getting late and I was tired so I tried to say goodnight. He said “stay up, you can sleep on the train tomorrow” which was possible but I needed the conversation to avoid seriousness and I was dead tired. So we traded emails and I promised to send him pictures of some of the foods and people of the places I’d traveled. He was very kind and I totally enjoyed laughing and talking with him. He seemed to be struggling with the idea that he is not yet married at the age of thirty. This is simply my assumption - he said nothing of the kind, but I think I could see it in his eyes. And all of the 20 to 25 year olds there seemed to be married with a couple of young children. But he is a good guy and will hopefully wait around until he finds a good woman. He definitely held my interest.

Day 11

The Train to Como
We woke up early and returned our rental car at the train station. And we were off to Lago de Como. The scenery was amazing! I was able to move to a window seat and take lots of photos. We went through Monte Carlo and I got a photograph (big city!). We just rode along the coast and took many pictures - it was so gorgeous. Oh and on the train we met two ladies (mom and daughter) traveling all over by backpack. I sat and talked to them for a while about this their first trip out of the country and a bit about my trip to Greece. The mother was also a third grade teacher so we talked a little about jobs. They were very sweet and seemed to be having a good time and many adventures.
We arrived in Como with no hotel reservations (simply because we had decided to go there on a whim), so we had the taxi driver take us to a tourist agency. Well, they were right next door to a lake-front hotel that was very cut and they had vacancies. So we decided to deal with the price, drop our things off and hop on the last boat tour of the evening.

The Boat Tour
We caught it as they were closing the gates and it was absolutely my favorite part of the entire trip. The sun was low and the mountains jutted high above sea level. So it was like they, the arboretum pyramids, were spotlighted. The sunshine could reach just over the tops of the far mountains into the pyramids. Trees were so thickly blessing the mountainside that the only interruption of spring green was a few cream and rust red houses. One here, one there, six bunched together enveloped by trees. And along the water’s edge were age old mansions - southern style. Just beautiful countryside; mountain against mountain, castle in the trees and the crystal lake giving everything a glow. The ride only took us up half the lake but there and back took two hours. Although it did stop a lot - it functions like the metro in a small way for people here. Not only was the boat ride the most beautiful portion of this trip but it was funny and we met three American men.
The funny part was that at the front of the boat you could get the best pictures, but you got soaked - hair and upper body entirely. It was very windy and the water was very choppy. So every now and then you’d look over the bow of the boat and see a big wave coming up at you. It was like being on a roller-coaster in some respects: the kids would scream every time a wave would crest the bow, then we’d all duck under our seats for cover (some people would actually squat down by their seat), there was a thrill to it and after we would all laugh. We laughed at how wet had managed to get and that none of us was willing or smart enough to go to the back of the boat and stay dry. It was very exciting until I was soaked to the bone and there were high winds and I was starting to risk getting the camera wet (it had managed to stay dry thus far).
But once in the back of the boat, the ladies and I got to talking to some Americans. Three men (my parents’ ages) all in Italy on business working on software dealing with antiterrorism somehow. We all chatted away with them, looked for George Clooney’s mansion, talked about travel, and talked about their families. They gave Ruth one of their business cards in hopes of getting her son a job. Really nice people and funny; they had us laughing about everything. So the boat ride over all was phenomenal for me (for lack of a better word)! But that did not end our evening.
We ladies headed out on the town, but as usual all ended up in different directions shopping. I checked back at the hotel later to see if they wanted to have dinner together, but no one was there. So I went out alone in search of a nice people-watching spot. And low and behold I walked right by the three gentlemen having dinner. They caught my attention and invited me to join them for dinner. I consented, having nothing else planned and excited to enjoy my evening with them. They were quick to pour me a glass of wine and ask me about the rest of my day.

Julio, Peter, and Jim
Even funnier , then Ruth walked by and joined us also. So we chatted away and had more wine (Julio insisted on refilling our glasses the moment they began to empty themselves) and had some lovely pasta. Then Cindy and Karen walked by and we invited them to join. Our server Helvis asked if we needed a huge table for more friends to come, since the gentlemen kept adding to their crowd. Well these three guys were amazing; we laughed so hard at their crazy stories. We absolutely had an awesome evening just because of them. Julio kept pouring more wine for everyone (mostly himself) and more he drank. He wore canary yellow shorts and a black top and all night we were making fun of him. Peter has three kids and a wife he adores; his oldest son is into theatre and then a 9 and 12 year old as well. Jim, who was the boss, had a sobering demeanor but once he and I go to talking he turned out to be very gentle and sweet. He was my favorite of the bunch and yet there was something solemn inside of him which I think I may have bumped into when I asked him if there was any particular reason that he didn’t drink. But it seemed like there was more - maybe complacency with his job or something sad back home. But he perked up with time. When they at last had to leave in order to be awaked for an early start they paid for our dinner and dessert and wine. All of it! So we ladies sat and continued our wonderful evening talking about how kind and fun they had been. They really had made our evening. It really was a highlight for all of us. So we kept talking until Ruth wanted to head back.

Talking
We got back to the hotel and I went into Cindy and Karen’s room and we sat on the beds talking for at least another hour. But alas my eyelids were giving way so I headed off to bed. Only to find, at 2am in the morning that Ruth had dead bolted me out of the room - my key wouldn’t even work. Well she had to be woken up to let me in. She was getting stranger by the day and apparently I am not to be trusted - maybe I would bring in a burglar or something with me!
And that was I think the actual end to our evening. Although when we left the restaurant the young people were starting to come out. And they were everywhere - dressed pretty casual, walking by laughing and talking. Group after group of them - I don’t know where they were all headed but they were definitely just getting started.

Italians

Right off the bat arriving in Lake Como I had two different guys look me up and down and proceed to make comments about my appearance as I walked by. I could totally hear what they were saying and they weren’t speaking under their breath. One while I was out shopping and the other when we were loading onto the tour boat. I had to squish by him and they almost spoke into my ear as I made my way past them. They were not inappropriate just more forward than I am used to. And it continued like this for our entire stay.
The women are like in France; they dress rather eclectically and wear basically no makeup. They are beautiful though, just the way God made them. Although I must ay they have some of the largest lips I’ve seen. They are all dark skinned and often have deep chocolate colored hair.
When they speak they sound just like they are speaking Spanish but so much more beautifully and seductively. Although they use a very deep, throaty tone of voice. They do not seem as outgoing or friendly as the French, but still fun and kind when you get to know them.

Day 12

Lago di Como
This morning I woke up bright and early to eat a quick breakfast and be ready to shop. I wanted to look for some gifts for everyone back home. But before shopping I wanted to go for a walk along the lake. So I ate and set out on my own.
It was so calm and peaceful as I walked beside the glistening sun-cast lake. Italians walking, bubbling with conversation, looking out. Someone jack hammering the walkway, a guard standing outside the bank, and a small congregation sitting on the lean steps of a small gray chapel. I walked past the tall tower Monument Ai Coduti and the dome church Tempio Voltiano. Then I spent 10 minutes walking along the ten foot tall gates of Villa Olmo, a palace-like residence of some wealthy folk along the lake’s edge. I rested a bit in a quiet garden on the left of the Villa and then stopped to talk to the policeman at the bank. He started up the conversation asking me how I was doing and I responded (unfortunately I did not know enough Italian to answer him, so we converted into English). He seemed to want to know all about my day and he was in no hurry to get on his way. I asked him about his job a little and felt that I was preventing him from doing his duty so ended the conversation and walked on. I started to wonder if that is how everyone is there: in no hurry and with plenty of time to be friendly and actually have a real conversation. He made me feel as though we could stand and talk for hours about anything if only I had had time myself. I loved it, just having the time to realize where I was and be a part of my surroundings, not just an observer. Italy was thus becoming my favorite spot on the map of our trip. I did not want to leave, I wanted to keep alongside the apple green grass of the lakeside gardens.
But I did have to leave, although it was a pleasant “goodbye.” The ladies and I brought our luggage downstairs and asked our two helper concierges if we could take their picture. And they said “No, I’m sorry, we have copyright laws.” So we laughed and they insisted we join them in the picture. So they called over another hotel worker to take a group photo. We all stood behind the front desk and laughed so much. A lady on each side of Sergio, as he instructed, (my Italian instructor) and Alfredo (the friendly concierge). Funny guys and so sweet. Things like that just make the trip memorable and precious.
So we departed to shop and then take the train into Switzerland. The ladies insisted on taking the taxi to the station five minutes away, but I thought better of it and walked. They had my luggage and I enjoyed the scenic walk through town and garden. When I got to the train station the train sitting there was leaving. Well, I got worried because our train was to depart in ten minutes, but I guess it could leave early. So I stood in the ticket line to find out when the next train was. After standing there for another ten minutes, I finally step up to the desk only to find out that my train is leaving now from another track. I had forgotten to pay attention to how the whole system worked because I found it more enjoyable to just follow the ladies everywhere and soak up my surroundings. Well not so smart for times like this. So I run down and up another flight of stairs - and there is my train and I hear the whistle. I hear someone yell my name and she says “get your suitcase!!!!!” So I run left and she yells “no the other way” and I run too far. “Too far” she yells now! I see my case, run with it to the steps, lift it up and try to step, but it is much too high. So my shin catches all the way down on the lower step. So I try again, this time my luggage is on. So I jump up the stairs as the doors are closing on me.
I made it. Fortunately riding through Switzerland was more uneventful. The countryside was gorgeous. Green full mountains on the left and right with small villages down below.
I also enjoyed the ride because I was able to talk to a mother and daughter traveler who were backpacking much of Europe. They were from Oregon and were very friendly. I also had time to write and sleep. When it came time for the ladies to head off to their new destination, they came to my car to say goodbye. They left and I continued on late into the evening. I think it was nine o’clock when we finally got to my stop “Frankfurt Mannheim” although the sign only said “Mannhem.” I unloaded and went downstairs to find where my bus would be picking me up. Well the guy said “this isn’t Frankfurt Mannhem.” But there is a train that will be here soon at track 9 and it goes there. So I had gotten off one stop too early. So I go all the way back out and up the stairs again, with my 50lb suitcase, and wait. After sitting there for a while I realized that the sign says arrival time

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