april in paris: day three

Where to begin? Let's begin with ... a late start. I think the kids had some snacks for "breakfast," which was at about noon. Decided to get a Paris Museum Pass and headed out to the Musee Rodin, which is a little walk up the Rue Vaneau, then a left on Rue Varenne, and there is the museum, right before you hit the Boulevard de Invalides. Entered the sculpture gardens and were met by The Thinker. Took a ton of pictures, some with the Invalides and/or the Eiffel Tower in the background. Icons of Paris, all in one place! Pretty amazing. It was nice to see how the kids viewed the artwork, and how interested they were in it. Not the way I would look at it, trying to analyze it like I learned how to do in art history class -- but just through a child's eyes, just seeing what they see, being drawn to what interests them, finding humor and amusement, beauty and disgust. What was so fantastic was ... they were actually interested. I am so glad we made this trip!

Finally got past the Thinker and Balzac, then I went to check out the cafeteria, since I was very hungry (and I'm sure the kids were, too). Got some baguette sandwiches, which hit the spot. Outside for more picture taking of sculptures. Miles was fascinated with the Gates of Hell. Boyar took a picture of me by a fountain -- I hope he remembers me like this, always. Mika took photos of many of the sculptures, while I hovered at a distance. Eventually made it inside the actual museum, where there were more photos taken and lessons learned in bronze casting and a brief history lesson about Victor Hugo and Camille Claudel. Saw "Hanako" who was some Japanese woman whose name may not have actually been Hanako. Saw "The Kiss" and many others ... too many to name or count.

Crossed the street to take a quick tour of the Invalides. Ha. Not so quick. The Invalides was actually very interesting, if a bit morbid (with Napoleon's tomb, among others), and there was quite a display of medieval armor and weapons, all they way up through WWII items. I was impressed by the intricate details on the suits of armor, and thought they were reminiscent of the Japanese armor -- which they actually had there! Japanese armor was from the 1500's, French versions were from the 1600's, so who knows? Perhaps there was some influence there. In any case ... we eventually extracted ourselves from there and walked a bit more to the Musee d'Orsay. It was the night where the museum is open late, so we were not in a big hurry. Turned on our Rick Steve's podcasts and ventured inside ... only to find that the Impressionists had been moved around for renovation, which made for a very confused podcast tour. It was still good, though. Saw more Rodins, some Renoir, Degas, Monet, Manet, Pissaro ... and much, much more! Overwhelming. Tried to eat in the Orsay restaurant, but seating was very limited and we decided to just eat in the cafe instead since we were hungry again.

Walked out of the museum at about 9:30 pm. Took a stroll along the Seine, with me trudging along about fifty paces behind everybody. So tired. Legs will not walk any faster. Suddenly, Mika runs back to me to get the camera -- which I don't have -- and the Eiffel Tower lights up in a frenzy of disco-inspired chaser lights, like a giant string of Christmas tree twinkle lights on steroids! Very exciting, especially for Boyar! It was fun to see the Tour Eiffel's flamboyant p.m. persona, and to feel the carnival atmosphere of the area at night. We rewarded ourselves for our long walk with chocolate crepes, hot chocolate au chantilly, a cappuccino and cafe allonge. In the chill of the nighttime air, it was the perfect snack. After our dessert, we continued walking and made it back to a Metro stop (Bir Hachiem), where we bought a carnet of "t" billets and went back to our place on the Rue Vaneau.

april in paris: day two

Breakfast at the little patisserie/boulangerie around the corner on Rue de Babylone. Boyar and I had pain au chocolat, Mika had a brioche au chocolat, and Miles had a pizza-like flatbread. Had little cups of espresso that I don't think were what Boyar thought he ordered. It was very good though, and felt very French. A man and his toddler daughter had stopped by on the way home from swimming lessons, and he struck up a conversation with us. He was from the Presidio in the City, and lives here now. I asked him for some recommendations, which was helpful. He said the little place across the street was good, and that's where we ended up at tonight for dinner. Very cozy and felt very down home. Simple and French. I ordered a paté so that the kids could try it, but I ended up eating most of it. Wait, I skipped from breakfast to dinner. Backtracking. After breakfast, we bought some sandwiches to go, then got on the Metro for Rick Steves' podcast Historical Walking Tour of Paris. Started at the Notre Dame cathedral, which was very impressive. The day was a bit overcast, so that added to the ominous feel of the gothic architecture. After Notre Dame, we went for ice cream at Berthillon where I thought I was getting a scoop of "poire" but ended up also with a scoop of "peche" when Boyar asked about it, and this was a very good thing : ) Both flavors were really good. Walked back along the same little street and went to a fancy cookie shop, which was beautiful, and also a place called Pylones where I got some cute wallets. I figured this would be my souvenir, and maybe a couple of birthday presents. Got a cute one for Miki. Also stopped at a blown glass shop that had adorable animals that the kids bought, along with lots of cool jewelry (which I looked at but did not buy). Took a picture of a couple of guys posing by the Berthillon truck that was parked outside; very nice and appreciative, they offered to take our picture, too, but then a car swerved by and I thought - no, that's okay! We are standing in the street! Cars drive fast even on these little tiny alley streets. (Boyar: How do you know they are a couple?) After ice cream ... onward to the Left Bank part of the tour, which was confusing but interesting. Walked through the Latin Quarter, which had things like a "patisserie tunisien" (which, I think, means Tunisian pastry shop) and lots of "ethnic" food. This is the "artsy" area of town, according to our podcast. Ate our sandwiches in the little park with the oldest tree (acacia) in Paris, and watched the pigeons trying to get food. Went across to the Saint Chapelle and Palais de Justice, but we did not go inside because the lines were long and I did not want to wait. Walked up to the Pont Neuf bridge and over to the Louvre. Impressive from the outside, we'll probably go there tomorrow (since it is supposed to be rainy).

Eventually found the Metro and figured out how to get back to Vaneau; walked up to the Bon Marche and the Saint Germain area, which I really liked. Nice shops, not as touristy. Almost ate at a place that was in the Access guide, but it was very, very empty and seemed dubious. Went into a store called Bathroom Graffiti, which had those cool Pantone chip items, like folding chairs, and Hello Kitty items and a t-shirt that said "I'm not a tourist, I live here!" and some cool headphones. Miles was looking at these ones with a big star on the outside, which seemed really cheaply made, and the salesclerk showed him some other ones by some Swedish company that looked very cool and had a better length cord than the one Miles has now. Although I had been discouraging him from buying new headphones (since Boyar had just bought these for him for his last birthday), I let him go ahead and get these because they made him so happy and he had been moping around for the past hour, and he said he would pay with his own money. As soon as he told Boyar about it, he had buyers' remorse. It was actually pretty touching. He said he did not feel happy if it made his dad upset. I am guessing that there are plenty of kids who are actually happier when they annoy their parents, and I am relieved that this is not the case with our son (at least not at the moment). Things seemed to smooth over, or at least I am hoping that's the case, since Miles is pretty happy about his new headphones. By this time, Miles was now happy (because his headphones made him forget he was tired and hungry), Mika was eating her leftover half-sandwich, and Boyar and I were famished and tired. Went to the big La Grande Epicerie across from Le Bon Marche and checked it out. It was very late by this time, and it was pretty slim pickin's. Almost bought some roast pork, but then I realized it would be about $20 for one pound ... which seemed a bit high to me. Mika found a bottle of Coke with her name on it. Literally. Pretty funny. It was some special edition bottle with the singer-Mika's name on it, but since it looks the same as our Mika's name, we bought it anyway. She also wanted chocolate mousse, which we got from the refrigerator case.

Kept looking at other restaurant menus on our way back, wanting so badly to find a restaurant that seemed to welcome us. It is then that I found I had a hidden talent: deciphering French, even though I really don't know any French. It is very handy to know words like "tartare" (raw) and "cheval" (horse) -- especially when they are on a menu. Together. We kept walking, and found ourselves back in our neighborhood at the little red restaurant. Ultimately, eating here was perfect for us -- nice, friendly and very French. No CPK or Pasta Pomodoro tonight!

I amused myself with the realization that we ate all three meals from one block near our apartment: breakfast and lunch from the patisserie/boulangerie, and dinner at the restaurant. Supporting the Vaneau-Babylone economy!

Okay ... very tired ... everybody is asleep ... time to join them. Au revoir.

april in paris: day one

We got lucky and managed to get four tickets to Paris for spring break, using our frequent flyer miles! C'est bon!

*****

Arrived in Paris via Air France 83 -- Business Class provided more legroom than needed, especially on the bulk head row! Food was very good and plentiful on the flight. Had some wine at the encouragement of our flight attendant, who seemed puzzled and shocked that we were not drinking any. He was very encouraging about it, and said, "Try a few. Few, few, few, then many! Like me!" I have the menu somewhere ... we started with an amuse bouche that was a small paté tart with a grape slice and almond slices on top, then there was a salad and a fish terrine (which I was surprised that Miles liked), then we had our main course (chicken, fish, beef or risotto)(we had the chicken and the beef), dessert trio and gelato (caramel macaron was incredible!). Since the flight attendants were not sure about the nut content, we were cautious about the food on the plane -- which Mika got to enjoy, unfettered! -- but we did decide Miles could try the macaron and the lemon tart. We all tried to sleep in our fully extending chairs, with mixed success. Boyar seemed pretty good. I slept for a bit then woke up and Mika came over to say she couldn't sleep. I gave her my seat, and then I went to hers and tried to sleep with her books, game boy, Miles's DS, Miles's book, and her crocheting all in the seat, too. No wonder she couldn't sleep in this seat! Miles was resting but not asleep; he finally dozed off just before the "morning" and slept through breakfast service (Miles and I got ours later - French toast w/vanilla and berry sauce).

Arrived and got our bags, no customs check (!!!), and then I decided we should take the train so that it would be more of an adventure, rather than the recommended cab. I think it was the right decision. We made our way, with the help of the Tourist Information desk, and got onto the RER. After a few minutes, one of the young men on the train stood up with his accordion and started playing. With the backdrop of the industrial outskirts of Paris flashing by, he played some Parisian sounding tunes as we watched, intermittently, and I asked Miles to film him. If I had the Euros change, I would have given him something, but I didn't have it. Boyar didn't realize that he actually had the money, and he thought I had the money. The guy moved on to the next car. I filmed the graffiti, since I thought it looked cool. Got to Paris. Figured out the Metro transfer. Got to the Vaneau metro stop. Took a wrong turn and ended up at the Bon Marche ... which is how we knew we took a wrong turn. Got to our place. Met "Michael" and gave him the Thin Mints. He is from Michigan, and seemed happy to get the cookies.

Got settled, then walked around for a couple of hours ... which felt like four ... but we managed to stay awake and in good spirits, even though we were tired. Saw the Invalides, the Tour Eiffel, the Seine and its riverboat tours -- all in their sun-drenched glory! Walked back through the Rue Cler and went into the cheese shop (which was stinky and overwhelming), picked up a roast chicken (which was on sale for 10E), some potatoes Dauphonois (which were tart and tasty), some Camembert (which was stinky and tart and meaty tasting) ... followed up with a baguette and a quiche at a boulangerie on another street ... and some drinks and toilet paper at the local convenience store near our apartment. Boyar and I prepped dinner in our tiny kitchen, and we all had a good meal. Miles really enjoyed the cheese (as did Mika) and ate about half the baguette. Showered, played Bananagrams, and went to sleep.

Taking a while to get moving this morning. Slept till about 7 am, when the city noises started up (and the upstairs neighbor turned on the TV). Kids continued sleeping till Boyar woke them up at about 9:30 am. He is out and about, foraging for a patisserie or cafe for us to eat breakfast. I better get dressed before he gets back! Oops -- too late! Au revoir!

starts with a "j"

I am looking for a book to replace the one that my daughter borrowed from a friend ... and misplaced. We saw it recently in the living room, but now nobody can find it. Including me, and I am usually pretty good about finding such things. The book is a little bit obscure, so I'm not sure I'll be able to find it in a store, either, but it's worth a try. I scan the bookshelves at the Walnut Creek Barnes & Noble, but do not see it. I come across two store clerks chatting, and decide to ask them for help finding it.

Me - (in my super-polite voice) Excuse me, hi, I'm wondering if you can help me find a book -- the title is something like one thousand and one cranes, and it has a pink cover.
Fifty-ish woman clerk - Oh, is it a Japanese folk tale?
Forty-ish woman clerk - (clicking away at the computer) Yes, I think it is ...
Me - No, it's not ... it's actually in a modern setting ... it takes place in --
Fifty - Oh! There is that Japanese folk tale about the crane who pulls out her feathers and weaves it into silk ...
Me - (still in super-polite voice) Oh, yes, and the crane turns into a woman ... no, it's not that story. It's in a modern setting ...
Forty - Isn't there a book about Sadako and paper cranes?
Me - Yes, there is, but this is a different story ...
Fifty - Oh, yes, Sadako ... isn't she the little Jewish girl who folded all those cranes while she was imprisoned during the Holocaust?
Me - (now in trying-not-to-sound-shocked but still polite voice) Ummm, no, Sadako was Japanese, and she got sick and died after the bombing of Hiroshima in WWII ...
Forty - (jovially) Ha ha! Well ... same war! Ha ha!

Wow. My eyeballs bugged out of my sockets, then popped back in, while steam shot out of my ears and my jaw dropped to the floor, and my tongue rolled in and out of my mouth like a party horn blowout. Oh, wait, that was just the invisible cartoon version of me that flashed in my head. The real life version of me -- old, jaded and tired -- managed to just super-politely get out of there and get a gift card.

UPDATE: My daughter found the book. It was in her bookshelf.

manly man

“Hey, Mom. Can you buy me some Axe?”

And, with that, I was officially initiated into the world of teen-parenting. I had been dreading the day I would hear these words. I had known this day would come, since I had heard that Axe was the deodorant-of-choice among the boys at my son’s school. Still, I was caught off-guard that this was happening so soon.

I remember when he was just a baby! Well, actually, that’s only in my more lucid moments. Sometimes I think back to when he was just a baby, and I can’t seem to remember much. I decide this is not the time to get sentimental – besides, it is an excuse to go to Target. I love shopping at Target.

I get a bit woozy standing in the deodorant aisle, inhaling a smorgasbord of manly aromas. Somehow, I remain conscious enough to notice the tiny writing on the labels: “Sharp Focus: Stay dry, Stay focused on her,” “Dry Action: Approved for Hot Encounters,” “Dark Temptation: As Irresistible as Chocolate.” Wow. Apparently, this Axe is powerful stuff.

I pick up one of them and take a whiff. Whoa. Definitely not that one. How about this one? No, not that one either. This one is actually repulsive! A guy would have to stay focused on her as she was running away from the smell of Axe! I warily smell the one touting its dark temptation, since chocolate is pretty irresistible to me. Fortunately, I am strong enough to resist.

I finally settle on one of them: the blue one. The writing on the label is hard to read, and I am hoping my son doesn’t notice what it says. It smells relatively more subtle than the others … or at least that is what I tell myself as I add it to my shopping cart.

When my son gets home, I non-chalantly tell him I got him his Axe. “Thanks, Mom!” he says, cheerfully. “Can I have a snack? I’m hungry.”

What a relief. He may want to smell manly, but he’s still my little boy.

brain freeze

I had a case of brain freeze recently when my son was about to tell me something deep and meaningful, but felt compelled to preface it with, “Wait – you aren’t going to put this in your blog, are you?”

Massive amounts of guilt pulsed through my veins. “What? Of course not!” I told him, trying to sound reassuring. I felt horrible that he was about to confide in me, and he had to hesitate because I have a blog. That will become the cliché of the next generation – “Oh, I stopped talking to my mother because I knew it would just become a status update on her Facebook page, or a tweet, or a blog post.”

This situation caused me to pause and look at what I was doing to my family. I took a little break from writing as I did some self-reflection, facing questions about motherhood that I would not have even imagined thirteen years ago. Would my children hate me? Do I embarrass them online? I already know that I embarrass them in real life; that’s a given. I finally determined that there are topics I need to stay away from, but others that would probably be okay, and are too amusing not to write about. As my husband often reminds me, my blog is a place where he can look back and laugh about various family moments. With our fading memories, my blog is a time capsule of our family history. Without it, we might have no memories at all!

Which leads me to write about that time when my husband said he actually liked the film of dust that covers our family photos, and how much he looks forward to having assorted leftovers for dinner sometimes. (Okay, he didn’t say these things, but since he might not remember, I figured it was worth a try.)

Actually, this talk about fading memories leads me to write this: I can no longer remember what it was my son said after I assured him it would not appear in my blog. I have tried, but I can’t remember.

I have a feeling he’s probably forgotten, too. And with that … I feel a blog post coming on. I’ll be back soon.

just another day

Aside from waking up earlier than usual, today started out just like any other day. But it didn't take long to be reminded that this was September 11th -- and that eight years ago, it had also started out as just another day. Well, thinking back, I guess this isn't quite true. September 11, 2001, was a big day in our household, and I was up earlier than usual then, too, getting the house ready for the First Day Coffee I was hosting at our house for my daughter's first day of preschool. I woke up worrying about how my daughter would do in preschool, and hoping I would make it through the day.
It was not until I was in the car driving to Noah's Bagels that I heard the news on the radio: an airplane had crashed into one of the twin towers. I pictured a small Cessna, and hoped nobody had been injured in what must have been an accident. After picking up bagels, I went to the grocery store, and overheard people in line talking about ... something about a passenger jet crash ... a jumbo jet, full of people ... the twin towers ... oh my god. In disbelief, I asked the checker to confirm -- was it a passenger jet that had crashed into the twin towers? Yes, she said, scanning my orange juice and half-and-half. A part of my brain seemed to go numb, and I suddenly transformed into an automaton.
Got the groceries. Went home. Turned on the tv. Can't believe it. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Made regular coffee. Made decaf coffee. Sliced bagels. Kids waking up. Turned off the tv. Can't talk about this in front of the kids. Want to cry. Can't cry in front of the kids. Husband waking up. Want to talk about this, but can't. Still wanting to cry. Walk son to kindergarten. Come home. Take daughter to preschool. She seems fine. Rush home to get ready. Turn on tv. Still can't believe it. Doorbell rings. Turn off tv. Put on a smile.

We had a nice little gathering of parents that day, and we all tried to focus on talk about our kids, and not the giant elephant in the room. The news was still just trickling out at that time, and I don't think any of us realized the magnitude of the tragedy ... yet. After everybody left, I called my husband -- who works next to a federal building -- to come home now.

Cry. Time to pick up the kids. Put on a smile. Hug my kids. Try not to cry.

Shock and sorrow. The tragedy touched us, even out here on the left coast. The whole country seemed to come together. For a moment, we felt united. Then the shock and sorrow gave way to shock and awe, and here we are, eight years later. Just another day for most of us -- but certainly not for those who lost loved ones on September 11, 2001. When I hug my kids today, I will remember those who can no longer do this simple act because of the 9/11 attacks. And try not to cry.