will WE play in Peoria?

I admit, when Debbie said she wanted us to join her and Don in Paris, my first thought was “not Paris again!” Not because I feel like I have exhausted one of the world’s greatest cities. Quite the contrary. I feel like every time I go, I go to the same things. Honestly, it’s getting dull. How many times can a person ride to the top of the Eiffel Tower? (Not counting the elevator operators who do nothing but ride up and down inside the monument, 35 hours a week, minus 5 weeks a year vacation.)

This time was different. I saw all sorts of things in the last 2 days I’ve never seen before.

Just like yesterday morning, we had some time to ourselves before lunch. (Debbie has taken to sleeping in. She doesn’t care for Bill’s “what time should I set the alarm” approach to vacationing.) Yesterday we went to places I wanted to visit. Today, we went to the one place Bill has been talking about wanting to see: St Chappelle. I only went because Bill wanted to and I figured I could keep Kaitlyn busy while he looked around. It was spectacular. It would really be amazing to see it on a sunny day. The chapel has soaring stained glass windows that must be 5 stories high. It is not stunning for its size, like so many other places we’ve seen… but for its art. Even Kaitlyn thought the windows were pretty.

To whittle away more time waiting for Debbie and Don to catch up with us, we went next door to the Conceirgerie. It’s the prison where Marie Antoinette was held. The building itself is hardly stunning, by any stretch. But the history that took place within its walls is.

The only thing Debbie and Don wanted to do today was the Eiffel Tower. And I decided to hold true to the promise I made myself last time I rode the elevator in that pile of steel: not again. Ok, maybe to eat dinner, but otherwise, no. To me, the elevators are scary. I avoid elevators in much shorter structures, so one going that high, at an angle, that you can see through… that’s just unnecessary.

So I visited Napoleon’s Tomb in the Hopital des Invalides. It’s still a hospital for soldiers.

I was glad I went and even more glad I went alone; I don’t think anyone else would have been as fascinated. I could listen to the audio guide and look at everything… I also went into the war museum there. I went right for the World War Two area; I am fascinated by France in World War Two. The exhibit sort of glossed over that whole giving into the Germans part and focused on the resistance and made the United States out as the big heroes.

I think I need to start visiting the museums around Grenoble… by myself. I could learn a lot. And I think I’ll really enjoy it.

This trip may spell the end of the mimi. (Kaitlyn’s giant pacifier)

Last night, we nearly had to go cold turkey when Bill realized none of us had it. We were in the Louvre at the time. We re-traced our steps and, amazingly, found it under the bench where we’d stopped to rest near the Mona Lisa.

Today outside l’opera, Bill pulled the mimi out of his pocket and discovered it now has a rip. We realized later that it tore when we used it as a bath stopper this morning for Kaitlyn’s bath.

They don’t make those things anymore. Hopefully, it will survive.

***UPDATE****

The mimi made it through the entire trip. I need to rip the house apart to try to find any other surviving ones, but there may not be any. I’m not rested enough yet to feel like doing that.

Our hotel is only about a block away from Luxembourg Gardens… but I nearly missed seeing it.

After un-successfully resting in the hotel room (unsuccessful because Kaitlyn didn’t seem any less grumpy), Bill sent me to check out the park and to find the playground that is supposed to be so spectacular. You have to pay to get into it, it’s got to be good.

I walked in and immediately found a map. I’m thinking “how could it be that Bill… Mr Directions… came here and couldn’t find the playground?” I actually thought I could just look at that map and walk right to it. Not a chance. I wandered all around and all I found was another exit and another map. Looking at it this time I realized I had the entire park flipped around in my mind.. and I needed to be on the opposite side.

The park is beautiful, which made the walk through it not so bad. It was especially pretty with the leaves changing colors.

The playground didn’t seem to have lived up to its billing. I took some pictures to show Bill and Kaitlyn.. as many as I thought I could before someone would think I was a pedophile staking out the place.

If it doesn’t rain maybe we can come back. If it does… I don’t think Kaitlyn is missing out on something so spectacular. But I’m glad I made it.

We have spent the day in Paris and so far I’ve gone only to places I haven’t made it to on previous trips. Thank goodness, since this is the 4th trip here in a year.

We started at the Opera House. I’d have never even thought of going there except it’s written up in a “Paris with Kids” guidebook Debbie gave me for my birthday.

I confess, I had no idea that the “Phantom of the Opera” is an old legend about this place… complete with the lake underneath the building and the massive chandelier that actually fell on the audience during a performance.

The building is amazing. Unbelievably ornate, oozing with marble, gilding and excess.

A rehearsal was going on which meant the auditorium was closed. We could wander around the lobby and the library; that took more than an hour. The only way to see the lake under the opera where the phantom hung out is with a guided tour. None today. Or tomorrow. Bill wants to go back. He wants to see that lake. I want to see a show there.

The same guidebook then led us to an English bookstore down the street. Don’t tell Bill, but I do have a few books at home I’m already reading or plan to read. But I couldn’t pass up the chance to get more. I bought two books written by an ex-pat living in France. Oddly, that is my new favorite topic. I also bought a flip book with a new word for every day of the year. It’s intended for someone between 5 and 7 years old. I hope it isn’t too hard for me. Kaitlyn was excited by the idea of books in English, but the kids section was small and she didn’t see anything she really wanted. Bill bought her a box of like a thousand stickers. He picked out a photography magazine for himself. I almost added a Martha Stewart Living to our stack, but couldn’t bring myself to pay 7 Euros for it.

Since the guidebook hadn’t steered us wrong yet, we followed it yet again.

It says to be sure to visit the “grands magasins” (big department stores) near l’opera. I have never been in a store so big. It’s worth visiting just to see the stained-glass dome in the center… 6 stories up. I went with Kaitlyn while Bill waited for Debbie and Don. I thought I was taking her to the children’s clothing department. Turns out, I was taking her to the TOY department… which is bigger than the entire King Jouet toy store in Grenoble. Seems everything in Paris really is better. Kaitlyn carefully wandered the aisles and examined a lot of Barbie and Polly Pocket options, but kept returning to the same item… a mini-Barbie thingie. Naturally, we gave in and bought it.

The real reason we’d even gone into the massive department store was because the guidebook said to eat at the rooftop restaurant.

It mentioned something about how it is a good option if the weather is nice. I thought it meant if it isn’t rainy or foggy, because that would block the view of the city. No, it meant because the restaurant is on the roof… outside… covered only with a tent. So the view was great but the wind was cold. I was a little worried, too, because the menu was quite small, only in French, and I could not translate all of any single dish. Everyone else seemed ok with it and I feel like yesterday I stepped on some toes, so I just kept my mouth shut. Thank goodness. The food was excellent. I had mushroom soup which was really good. Kaitlyn took one bite of her meal and said “My chicken is really good.” Then she ate a chicken leg, two servings of broccoli (Bill put his on her plate) and her potatoes. She tried but didn’t like the spinach. All of us nearly licked our plates clean.

So far, this guidebook is a real winner.

It is impossible to dress properly for fall in Paris.

Outside it is chilly with a bitter wind.

Inside, it is approximately 100 degrees… Celsius.

In museums, tourist sites and stores you get to peel off at least one layer then lug that extra garment around (which makes your arm hot). And if you take the Metro… it’s like spending some time in a moving underground sauna. With your clothes on. By the time you get back up to the sidewalk, you are covered in sweat. Mixed with the cool air, that’s got to be a recipe for getting sick.

Maybe this is why French women all wear scarves. Easy on, easy off.

The thing you have to remember about walking anywhere with Kaitlyn is to double… or triple… the amount of time you think it will take to reach your destination.

After checking into the hotel, we decided to walk to the Musee d’Orsay. It was the first stop on the itinerary we’d laid out a couple of nights ago.

We are staying in the Latin Quarter, next to the Odeon Theater. It’s probably a little over a kilometer to the museum. Debbie looked at a map and figured it was a 15 minute walk… no reason to take the metro. And, besides, you can’t see the city from the metro. So we walked.

On the way it started to rain. Don didn’t pack a jacket, but he hasn’t complained once.

Then Kaitlyn saw a crepe carte and announced she was hungry. So we stopped. She insisted on her usual… ice cream. We tried to talk her out of it, since it was cold and rainy, but she had her mind made up. I introduced Don and Debbie to the joys of Nutella.

By the time we got to the museum , it was 4:30 or so. Only an hour till they start to clear the galleries. We were probably silly to even attempt to rush through, but we did. That followed some drama about the purchase of the museum pass. I apparently steamrollered the decision to buy 2 day passes, which I said only because I thought that the passes are a waste, that they aren’t’ so very useful when it isn’t peak tourist season so there aren’t as many lines to try to skip, oh and because we’d decided it the other night when we mapped out our Paris plan. I was just trying to keep things moving forward.

I took Kaitlyn and let everyone else go off on their own. Partially because I was mad about the stupid pass thing. And partially because I’ve been to this museum and that makes it easier to see the exhibits at Kaitlyn’s pace. She buzzes past the things that are generally worth seeing (like the Monet paintings) but then stops and asks a zillion questions about a display showing how many steps it takes to make a sculpture. At least I think that’s what the display was; it was all in French.

When we basically got kicked out of there, we went to the Louvre. It’s pretty much across the street (and river), so we walked. But in the cold, pouring rain we should have taken the metro the one stop over. Kaitlyn looked like she’d just gotten out of the bath when we got there. Then I carried our dripping wet coats all around the museum. The only one of us who appeared to have the water beading off was Don.

I have only been to the Louvre one other time and found it to be too immense and overwhelming. We had 4 hours before it closed and all I wanted to do was to identify our must-see items then head right for them. Instead, our first stop was to eat. To add to my frustration, we ended up in the same bad cafe as when I went with my brother and his family. Ninety percent of the menu is not available after 3:30. All I ordered was a glass of wine. I am not going to eat something I don’t even want just to eat.

Finally, we went to find some art. Bill had already made sense of the Louvre map you can pick up… which was about 3 hours faster than it took any of us to figure out that stupid map the first time I went.

We started with Venus di Milo. Not spectacular to me. (Patrick, Julie, Sarah: no need to fret over missing it) Then we went to the Mona Lisa. There the museum employees have apparently given up any hope of stopping people from taking pictures, even though there are signs all over saying no pictures.

The most interesting thing we saw was under the museum… the old palace wall where the moat used to be. The moat built to keep the king from being attacked by his own subjects, mind you. I’m most fascinated by the history of the building more than what’s inside it.

Kaitlyn did pretty well, considering a museum like the Louvre is not really geared to a 4 year old. She wanted to know about a lot of the paintings we saw, which tested my ability to make up stories. (“Mommy, what are they doing? Why are they eating?” which can only be answered by fabricating tales) When she walked through the hall of ancient Greek statues, we had her pose in the same stances as the statues so we could take pictures.

Debbie says she’s not going to join us tomorrow morning. I don’t know if we’ve worn her out, or worn her down.

I cannot imagine living a life filled with silence, solitude and contemplation. Today, Debbie and I visited a place where that is exactly what fills each day… and night. And as strange as it sounds to me, it is fascinating.

I’d never go to the Grand Chartreuse Monastery by myself. Sort of funny, since solitude is so much a part of life there. I don’t know if Debbie really wanted to go, but I suggested it and she agreed.

The museum is not the actual monastery where the monks still live. You visit a building where the brothers used to live. There are brothers and fathers; I imagine there are not enough of them now to make the extra building necessary. I imagine the income generated from the curious helps, too.

The drive up to the museum took about an hour and wound through mountains and forest I’d never driven through. To say that the founder wanted a remote location is an understatement. It is amazing that they managed to find the spot and build on it 900 years ago.

The view is amazing. You can’t see the valley or the city. All you can see is more mountains and trees. You can hear the soothing ring of cow bells. The monastery is in a “silent zone.” I don’t know exactly what that means. Certainly all the cars driving up aren’t silent. And the people were respectful, but not silent. The peace and quiet there may just be the natural result of being so far away from everything else. Just being there is… contemplative.

Inside you get the smallest glimpse into life as a Carthusian monk. You see what the hallway where they live looks like… how plain and simple it is. Each door is marked simply with a letter of the alphabet and a piece of scripture starting with that letter. Like Sesame Street for the deeply religious. You see the little window through which the brothers deliver food to the fathers and the small wooden signs with which the fathers request a new loaf of wheat bread. Kaitlyn could never be a monk, she hates crusty bread. You see what each member’s “cell” looks like. A small, plain room with a simple bed, a place to pray, a table for reading, a table for eating, and a small wood burning stove for heat. You have to chop your own wood for it. They spend most of their days in their cells, praying. And in the middle of the night, they all gather in the church for between two and three and a half hours of chanting and prayers. Maybe they spend all day in their rooms praying so that if they nod off, no one will see.

The life is not one I can really understand. It sounds so very strange. Yet, there was something about it that I could appreciate. The notion of being so far removed from civilization. The idea of spending time contemplating life and nature and God. The tour included a movie with interviews of two of the monks. They said that monks feel emotions deeply and when they hear news of the suffering in the world, they feel immense pain. Debbie and I could not understand feeling that pain, praying so deeply, and yet not feeling the need to leave the solitude to go out and try to change what’s going on in the world. These men say they are called to this special life devoted to prayer and finding a deep connection with God… but these men say they learn to block out the pain of the world. I cannot help but think that God wants us to feel that pain and use it to try to help others. Not to hide from it.

A lot of places here we’ve been told to visit are places you have to visit between April and October, because they are not open in the winter. Fort St Eynard is one such place. If you ever wonder why, imagine driving up a single-lane mountain road intended for two-way traffic, through the woods, with no guardrail. That is what keeps this high-altitude destination from welcoming visitors when there’s any chance of snow.

The fort is on the mountain across from the one where we live; it’s about as high as the lower area of the ski resort. There isn’t really much to see there as far as the fort itself goes, although it is hard to imagine how they built it so far up the mountain hundreds of years ago.

There are two real reasons to make the climb.

First: the view. It is amazing. You can look down and see the bubbles (that we rode yesterday) and see just how high up you are. But you have to be very careful. There isn’t really much between you and a very long, painful plunge down. There’s a chain link fence and some barbed wire. And a strong grip from Mom or Dad (or Uncle’s) hand.

Second: the restaurant. The menu isn’t long, but it doesn’t need to be. You just need to know two words …. gratin daphinois. Creamy potatoes au gratin. Amazing. When you scoop the potatoes out of the baking dish, there’s a pool of butter left at the bottom. I suppose if you hike around the fort you can eat them guilt-free. Guilt or not, they were darn good. Definitely worth the trip.

There is a third reason, but it’s really only a good one if you are a little kid. There’s a donkey that lives on top of the restaurant. The building is built into the hill, allowing for rooftop inhabitants.

This probably wasn’t very nice of me.

I’m sitting up in the office typing away on my computer while the house guests are preparing breakfast. Bill comes up to find me and I say “what… eggs? But we don’t have bread for toast!” And I promptly send Bill to the store in town to fetch some. Oh, and pick up some meat for dinner while you’re there.

Next time, he’ll probably just eat without me.

What can you do with visitors that is unique to the area? We had a ready-made answer to the question. Go to the festival for paraponting. (that’s where people jump off a mountain with a parachute)

We didn’t get out there until the afternoon. It was pretty crowded. And sunny. And hot.

The event started with Kaitlyn getting upset when I told her she’s too small to jump off a mountain with a parachute.

She finally found an acceptable alternative: the stuff set up for kids. So after downing an ice cream, she went on the giant inflated slide. It was pretty high and pretty steep. Some kids were getting to the top then refusing to slide down. Those kids were older than Kaitlyn. She didn’t have that problem. She got to the top and would slide down, squealing and smiling all the way. Then she’d climb right back up to slide down again. Then she rode on one of those silly carnival rides where you sit in a car and go around and around in circles. We wouldn’t let her go on the climbing wall. Or do the fencing. Or play rugby. Or twirl a baton. Seemed like an aggressive set of activities for children.

We tried to watch the paraponters for a while. Truth be told, on a normal sunny afternoon there’s just as many as there were today. They may not be wearing funny outfits or twirling around or competing to land in the middle of a circle on the ground… but there are still more of them in the sky. The sun and the heat finally took their toll and we left.

Next stop: the bubbles.

Kaitlyn loves those things. I somehow always manage to forget just how much I hate them until we get in and we are starting the climb up the mountain. The view today was spectacular. It was especially clear…. we could even see Mont Blanc. That was pretty amazing.. considering it’s a two hour drive to it but it’s so big that we could see it!

We found out that the top area of the Bastille (the bubbles’ destination) is a hang out for teenagers on a Saturday evening. And we found out that teenagers here are as obnoxious as teenagers in the United States. They started pouring bottles of water on each other. Sometimes spraying them. I was not in any mood to get sprayed with water.

There was also a performance going on at the Bastille. Some sort of mime. Who occasionally talked. We watched for a while. The most interesting thing he did was use two ladders like stilts. Another time I went to watch with Kaitlyn and he was up there in his underwear. We were at the Bastille for a little more than an hour when we took the bubbles back down… and his act was still going on.

We tried to go to a fondue restaurant I’d heard about. They serve you the bread in a basket on a pulley above the table. I thought that would keep Kaitlyn entertained…. kind of like her granddad with the toaster that sent the bread down automatically. (legend has it, he made his mother toast two loaves of bread the day they bought the toaster so he could watch it. The missing link in the story is… how old was he at the time?) But without a reservation, that didn’t work out.

We went to plan b: the pizza truck. We sat at one of his little tables waiting for the pizzas. And now it was so cold, Debbie and I huddled under a blanket Bill fetched from his car. We’ll be lucky if we don’t get sick from all this hot then cold. If we do, we can just take some of Debbie’s mercury and I’m sure we’ll be fine.