Paris, Bruges and Amdsterdam

Paris 2012
Aaaaah. Paris in the spring. Flowers blooming. Sun shining. People wandering around enjoying the beautiful day and the promise of a long glorious summer ahead. Or...not!

I'm usually blessed with perfect weather when I travel so I really can't complain (much). But I do wish there had been just one small break. One day – even a half day – when I didn't need an umbrella in one hand while digging in my pocket for my gloves with the other.

I've never been an umbrella person, but at least I packed them. In fact, I packed two. Broke two. And replaced two. Umbrellas may deserve their own chapter in this journal. Wandering around Versailles with the broken umbrella flapping in my face was truly chapter-worthy. Highly entertaining for the people watching me – and even somewhat for myself. But I'd already been soaked through on the first day when I wasn't carrying one. This just added insult to injury. Now I have a nice new Versailles souvenir though – a lovely orange umbrella.

The second umbrella came from the Gap. Not just any Gap. The FRENCH GAP! Because unlike all the trips I've taken in the last decade, I sucked at packing for this one. No. More like the forecasters sucked at their job. So I needed a couple things – socks, shirts, sweatshirts – and an umbrella to replace George's broken one. And $300 later, I have all new French clothes. Brilliant. Guaranteed when I wear these clothes at home I'll be letting everyone know they're French. And wait for the compliments to pour in.

It was hard to fulfill George's goal of having a Paris picnic. Unless you bring the picnic indoors which is exactly what we

did. Grabbing ham and cheese baguettes from Cafe Carette (where we went for our first Parisian lunch). Breaking out my beloved European paprika Pringles. Washing it all down with a can of Tab. You know what? Paris in the springtime ain't half bad.

Good Company.
So many people tell me how lucky I am to have such a good group of friends to travel with...

While we're unpacking, K-Bear starts reminiscing about her lost underwear. She remembered packing it. She knew she had it. But, she forgot the snacks this time – even though that's why she's invited along – so she must have forgotten them, too. After hearing three rounds of this story, I decided to pitch in. "Are you sure you packed them? Did you look everywhere in your suitcase?" (which is a demoralizing reminder of telling my dad the car wouldn't start and being asked if I had gas in the tank and had inserted the key in the ignition). Then I just dug right into her suitcase. There in plain sight are the underwear. Lots of them. In their own separate pocket. A see-through pocket. So...you can see them.

In the meantime, Lindsey is having the mother of all breakdowns about her fucking phone. I have an iPhone. So does K-Bear. Both are working. But Lindsey's isn't. She doesn't get reception. She can't get on the internet. No text whistles are coming in. And she's been notified that she's $1 million over her data usage plan. BTW – how's she getting notified of this when her fucking phone doesn't work? Poor Lindsey. It's not just her fucking phone. It's her whole fucking life. She fucking hates it. And she hates everyone else too. Fucking Verizon. She should have gone with AT&T. Oh well – it's just the first day arrival issues. Jet lag and all that, right?

At breakfast the next morning, Lindsey and K-Bear attempt to fill out their museum pass cards. Attempt is really an apt description. Here's the deal. Take the pen. Fill out the info in the blanks provided. End of story. How could it possibly be that hard? It was amusing to the point it wasn't anymore.

I only tell these stories because I am perfect. And a perfect travel companion. The only thing I don't like, for instance, are Asian tourists.

Paris Sights.
There are some things everybody expects to see on their first visit to Paris – the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe and Notre Dame. And possibly Versailles. I saw them all for the first time and not all were as expected.

The first thing we saw was the the Arc de Triomphe. I wish we'd only seen it and had not had to drive around it in the crazy ass taxi. As I understand it, you must first pull over into the far left lane as you circle around. Then pull in front of the seven other lanes of traffic to exit immediately right. Doing this in reverse also seemed to be acceptable. I believe I saw every kind of driving except cars in reverse.

I've seen the Eiffel Tower so many times in pictures, on TV and in the movies that I really wasn't expecting much. I already felt it was familiar. George, on the other hand, wanted to see it lit up, have a picnic under it, climb it and perhaps take a piece home with her. But I was truly impressed when we rounded the corner the first day in the city and it unexpectedly – dramatically – appeared. It was one of the highlights of my trip. Who knew it was so large? So utterly impressive?

Being able to see it from our hotel room was an added bonus. I saw it twinkle at 1 a.m. the first night and was thrilled. A visit to the nearby bridge another evening – in the pouring rain – was equally as wonderful. We didn't climb it or have a picnic under it. But I think we brought a little piece of it home in our hearts.

Because of my love of reading, my uber organization skills and my obsessive need to plan, I'd learned in advance that the best time to visit the Louvre was in the evening after the crowds died down. In talking to Paris-loving friends, they recommended not taking too much time there as it's overwhelming. Perfect planning if I must say so.

We picked a couple of items from the top 100 app and called it a night. Of course, the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Louis XV crown and some Johannes Vermeer paintings. I still found it overwhelming. Rows and rows and rows of naked women with babies at their breast. Oh – and look – there's a real, live one as well. In the Louvre? Really? Anyway – I was the only one taken aback. Heck, I'm in marketing not nursing. We're not allowed to do that in the office.

Then there was Notre Dame. Gorgeous on the exterior and so pretty in the evening light. We actually toured on Sunday morning to my equal joy and displeasure. A church service started right in the middle of our walkthrough. It seemed a little sacrilegious to me to have tourists gawking around the outside of the chapel while a service is happening. Taking pictures of the priest and congregation. Chatting amongst themselves. At the same time, it was very moving to hear the priest chanting in

French as well as the singing. I'm sure a lot of attendees were also tourists so maybe it's not a big deal. What do I know? I'm just a Lutheran.

Finally Versailles. I was very much looking forward to seeing Louis XIV's palace. I had invested many an hour reading about him, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette in preparation. (See note about reading and planning obsessions.) The statue of Louis XIV upfront was perfect. And the size of the palace and grounds was beyond amazing. But I just wasn't "into" it. Was it because I'd seen Hampton Court the year before and loved me some Tudors? Not sure. But I did love Henry VIII's palace a lot more. I thought the rooms were grander and more of them were on display. And because it's older, it felt more surreal. The Sun King did create one super grand home, though, and it was a privilege to have seen it.

Good, Good Company.
When you get to a place as big as Versailles, you think, "Wow. A person could easily get lost in there." So as we're walking in, I suggested the infallible buddy system. I volunteered to watch anyone but Lindsey. She's small and she's quick. So George took Lindsey, I took George, K-Bear took me and Lindsey had K-Bear. K-Bear and I were leading the pack. I looked back to make sure George and Lindsey were coming and saw they were just pausing for a photo. Good. Just follow the tour to the left. And that was the last I saw of them for the next half hour. When Louis built the Sun Palace he obviously wasn't thinking about good cell phone reception. Lindsey apparently told George, "I saw them go straight ahead." So K-Bear followed me to the left and George followed Lindsey straight ahead. That was a 50 percent success rate.

Yep. So the infallible buddy system – not so much. but clear direction wasn't working either. At Napoleon's tomb, George told K-Bear we were headed to the tomb. I could have died at the tomb myself I waited so long for them to meet us there. Seriously now. where the hell did they go? I am so not patient and I know it. But when the text came, "Where is it?" I almost lost it. There were signs everywhere. In English. Or, try following the people who were following the signs. Or, maybe try looking around. My only diversion was watching the young girl across from me drop her camera lens into the pit. It was almost like it happened in slow motion. It made me laugh heartily as there but for the grace of God....goes Georgie.

At Napoleon's tomb, as well as practically everywhere else we went, George had a "no lights in the bathroom" story. She'd have to tell it for it to be funny, but there were issues with the light going off when the door closed. Getting up off the toilet it would come on again. Off. On. Up. Down. I don't know. But I do know that you need to sit down to pee and you don't necessarily need a light for it. Then it happened again. Then there was the incident of the woman stuck in the toilet in Bruges. I had to start taking her to the bathroom. I kid you not.

It's not just about knowing where your travel companions are, it's about being aware of your surroundings. Several days after we arrived, George – Princess Di fan that she is – showed me a photo of the flame memorial in her honor. I said, "That's close to us." "Really," she asked, "You've seen this?" To which I replied, "Why, yes. And so have you. We walk by it every day." Disbelieving she asked Lindsey who had not seen it either. That's odd 'cuz I swear she took a picture of it one day

With all of these problems losing each other, our minds and our patience, what we really needed was a superhero. A Metro Captain. Clothed in black from head to toe. Fearless, fast and fleeting. MC to the rescue! Never has a superhero loved her job more. Every entry into the metro station began with a loving review of the map. If we needed to transfer trains, it began with a loving review of the map. Upon exiting the station, we lovingly reviewed the map to ensure which direction to go. MC LOVED herself the metro map. Some of my favorite photos of the trip are of MC at work. Seriously reviewing the map to devise our next plan.

Almost as much fun, were the engaging conversations between MC and George at each stage of the journey. They'd discuss, agree and set out. In different directions. George – trust the superhero to lead you safely.

Paris Sights II.
There's a museum for everything and everybody in Paris. You'd think with the size of the Louvre, they would be able to fit everyone in. But they've all got their own. Picasso, Rodin, Dali, Monet, etc. Plus there's a collection of many of the same artists at Musee d' Orsay. Musee d' Orsay is in a converted train station – a beautiful building with some very nice impressionist collections.

Rodin's The Thinker was wonderful. Also a treat to see Lindsey acting out The Kiss in front of the museum worker. Thank God he understood her, 'cuz she was going to take me in full embrace and give me a smack on the lips as her next performance

Two things that kept coming up repeatedly when people heard I was going to Paris were Sacre Coeur and St. Chapelle. Sacre Coeur has a great view of Paris and is one of Eric's favorite places. We'd been warned off online due to some gang activity but decided to chance it early one morning before the clouds and rain started. We were quite safe. The three men with machine guns made sure of it. If we'd brought our own guns, I would have loved to spend more time in this neighborhood shopping and exploring.

St. Chapelle is going down as the most beautiful man-made structure I've ever seen. It literally took my breath away as I entered the second story chapel and saw the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. Pictures will never be able to tell the story. It's something I'll just have to remember.

In the same neighborhood is

the flower and bird market. Not sure why there's a huge demand for birds in Paris, but I sure wanted to bring one home in my luggage. Cute little birds in glorious colors. I KNEW I should have bought a Birds of Paris book. The flowers were gorgeous, too, of course. But the best flowers were the large architectural flowers in a park we walked by. Crazy. Cute. Colorful.

The Bakery Tour.
One of the things I was most looking forward to – shockingly – was all the pastry. I read countless books, got a special app, even created a chart highlighting each of my top choices by arrondissement. I researched which macarons were the best – Laduree or Pierre Hermes. In my book – PH by a mile. But Carette was not bad either. I planned a trip to Strohrer's – the oldest bakery in France – dating back to Louis XV. I dreamed of croissants and madeleines and canelles. Croissants – hell yes! And more of them! Canelles – definitely not. The best discovery was a chocolate croissant across the street from Strohrer's in a cozy little orange cafe. Warm, crusty, melty deliciousness. I'm still looking for the almond croissant of my dreams. I'll keep dreaming.

Pastries weren't the only thing on my radar though. Literally anything with sugar will suffice. Paris is the land of hot chocolate – and they've perfected it beautifully. Angelina's was a dream. The chocolate sauce at the breakfast buffet was nothing to sneeze at either. Try a chocolate croissant with a little chocolate sauce on top. Why not!

George's dream was ice cream. As it always is when we travel. Berthillon – an old ice cream shop by Notre Dame was on her list and we checked it off in style. Very cute picture of my traveling companions licking their cones in front of the store window.

I found it was better to eat things with sugar, 'cuz those without were pretty pricey. A 7 Euro Diet Coke was a bit out of my price range. That's like $12 for a small DC. For Tab – sure! DC – not worth it.

The French Attitude.
Everyone's heard about the French – their disdain for Americans. Their superiority to everyone. How difficult it is to

get waited on or helped unless you speak French fluently. Even on my frequent travels, the guides almost always complained about their upcoming French tours and how impossible they are to please. What a pleasant surprise. They're pleasant. Not just pleasant. Downright lovely!

Waiting for the train to Versailles, a woman encouraged us to move further down the walk. "Further. Further." she said. "Very short train. I see tourists run like crazy all the time." In Brussels, there were frequent overhead announcements which we couldn't understand. The woman next to us made sure we knew they had just announced our train had switched tracks. Who know how long we would have waited otherwise.

Then, the three of us were standing around looking like lost puppies in Montmartre when a man on his way to work asked if we were looking for Sacre Coeur and gave us directions on how to get there. The security man in the Gap who saw us looking at our map and directed us to the metro. The man in the grocery store who told us the store two blocks up the street had a far better selection of teas.

We were always waited on in restaurants. The service at our hotel was impeccable. We experienced nothing but the best. When telling to my friend, Eric, he said, "Hmmmm. It must be early in the season and they don't hate everyone yet." Whatever it was, I have nothing but good things to say. I feel like wherever I go, the people are the best part of the trip – Croatia, Costa Rica, South Africa, South America...and yes, France. Merci!

Bruges.
The movie In Bruges taught me everything I needed to know about this place in advance. It's a "fucking fairytale town." After seeing the movie, I was sure everyone was plotting my demise from the tower, but I gamely climbed it anyway. I'd like to say it was worth it – but it's "unclear" the value of climbing hundreds of stairs. It was a darn cute town from ground level. Not sure if the view added much. Gave me a chance to survey all the chocolate shops, though.

In addition to all the stores selling chocolate, Bruges also boasts of a chocolate museum. Here you can learn valuable information like:

- Chocolate does not make you fat. However, you must first get thin. Then eat it in moderation.
- Chocolate has many health benefits. As long as you are perfectly healthy to start.

Armed with this invaluable info, I was able to traverse the town and eat my fill. Probably a good thing I don't live there as the "moderation" part would be a struggle. Damn good chocolate!

Good, Good, Good Company.
I'd like to dedicate this chapter to K-Bear.

As we're walking back to our hotel, K-Bear says, "Are we on vacation?" Stupid question, I thought. Of course we are. And that means...medical emergency. Sure enough – a biker is lying in the middle of the street. Lindsey to the rescue. After an assessment and a few words of encouragement, we're off. K-Bear stood safely on the sidewalk the entire time avidly assessing the situation to see if she would add any value. Job well done!

K-Bear has multiple talents, though. Situational assessment is only one. What she's really good at is scaring away predators in the night – by meowing. We were highly entertained by the story of a young K-Bear trying to scare away what she thought was a mouse by meowing. I'm sure a lot of people have done the same thing. But gosh – how embarrassing to find out it was really a bat. That's gotta be humiliating...

Around and About.
One of my key criteria in a vacation is good shopping and Bruges met all expectations. Apart from the solid chocolate, you could enjoy chocolate in beer. Or on waffles. The Bruges waffle with strawberries, whipped cream and chocolate was beyond comparison in my book. K-Bear attempted a comparison study in Amsterdam but I think she came up short. I, for one, am glad I don't have a memory of the cold waffle with plastic chocolate that looked to be "enjoying" there.

If George could drink a beer, it must be good. A chocolate beer no less. Allen thought it might be the only kind she'd ever drunk. He'd be right.

If you were tired of shopping for all things chocolate, there were plenty of other diversions. Known for lace, there were lace stores practically on every corner. And to my delight – needlework stores as well. Now Lindsey knows how I felt in the Dali museum as she examined each piece. I could have spent hours in them!

We also had to hunt down a couple of food products we'd enjoyed at our adorable B&B. Speculoos – which was described by Hilde, the sweet inn keeper, as "something special" – was indeed! it tastes like graham crackers and sugar and cinnamon and molasses cookies all stirred in to a most delightful "peanut butter like" spread. I should dip some chocolate in there. Why haven't they thought of that?

K-Bear rhapsodized about the chocolate cereal. She was lucky enough to find a box at the train station and stuck it in her backpack. I swear that backpack is like Hermione's bag in Harry Potter. Sometime I'm gonna crawl in it and take a look around.

The French Attitude.
Maybe all the French peope have moved to Bruges and are running the stores. They sure were particular about things.

At the chocolate shop you needed to buy six or more candies. Perhaps they've not been to the museum to learn about the moderation clause.

Speaking of the museum, we needed to purchase our tickets as a group instead of separately. It's easier that way. For whom?

We also got scolded for trying to take photos in the stores, for touching the yarn and for not leaving our umbrellas at the door. Damn that umbrella!

Final Stop. Amsterdam.
It's Lindsey's birthday when we arrive and as my present, I've promised to be nice to her all day. It didn't hurt too much.

We learned on our last trip that the only thing worth eating is the fries with mayo. They were the best of the trip – hot, salty and soaked in a side of fat. Yummy!

Of course, my umbrella was temporarily stolen here. Would have been mad, but I had to be nice all day 'cuz of Lindsey.

Good, Good, Good, Good Company.
As we're strolling around town, I remarked we were no longer in a fucking fairytale town. Out of character, George replied, "No. It's just a fucking town." Now that's class. Because, as we learned, only people with class would choose Paris as their favorite city on the trip. People like George and Lindsey. Those of us in the lower class preferred Bruges. People like K-Bear and me who meow at bats or lost our ongoing umbrella battle five to nothing. Well, the gloves are off Lindsey. No more nice Carol til next year.

Ends Where It All Began.
Rain.

The Road Ahead.
The choices are endless and George's brain churns up a new destination every few milliseconds. I'm voting for New Zealand. George – Borneo. Lindsey and K-Bear – Spain and Turkey. Wherever we go, I know there are adventures ahead and new stories to tell. Onward...