Our Grand Tour of Europe

Saturday, September 4

We awoke to a beautiful day… really quite warm. I know Charley is too hot, but I enjoy wearing summer clothes for a change. We carried my summer clothes all around England… at least now I get to wear them.

We stopped at the internet café for just a few minutes to see if the French consulate in Atlanta had responded to my two messages, but still nothing. Our real intent was to visit the market at St. Honore, so we swung around the corner to the little market square. We had enjoyed the markets in Provence and were interested to see what a Parisian market was like. This was a relatively small market… maybe 15 stalls in the center of the market square. We walked slowly around all the stalls to see what was available. Kelly went out of her way to avoid walking by the two fish stalls… she doesn’t like the smell—or the look—of the raw fish. We bought a number of items at one of the fruit and vegetable stands, trying to remember the French names for what we wanted. We got strawberries, raspberries, green beans, an avocado, a melon, a couple of tomatoes and onions. I had read that you’re not supposed to touch the food in the market—you’re supposed to point to what you want and let the seller choose for you. The nice man asked when we would be using the avocado—“Aujourd`hui?” (Today?)—and selected one just perfectly ripe when we said “Oui.”

Another stand was selling delicatessen food, including some cooked food. We bought a container of rice and vegetables that was cooking in a huge paella pan. We also got a roasted chicken and a chunk of cooked sausage. I checked out the menus of the interesting-looking restaurants on the square again to see if one of them might work for our Thursday night dinner. Even the restaurants that have a “Menu Enfant” (Children’s menu) don’t have anything that appeals to our enfant. She is continuing to lobby strongly to go back to Madeleine 7 where they had the fun waiter and the world’s greatest pasta bolognaise.

We took our purchases back to the apartment and laid out a feast of roast chicken, rice, sausage, bread, cheese and fresh berries. We just ate breakfast a little bit ago, but we were enthusiastic about this lunch.

Our major destination for the day was the Musée Marmottan Monet, a small museum that primarily features the works of Monet. This had been a very minor museum until the death of Monet’s youngest son about 40 years ago (he was killed in a car accident at the age of 88). Michel Monet bequeathed his collection of his famous father’s work to the Marmottan, making this the world’s largest collection of Monets… over 60 paintings and sketches. After our visit to Monet’s home and garden at Giverny, we were very interested to see even more of his work. In the little book I bought Kelly yesterday—Linnea in Monet’s Garden—the little girl Linnea visits the Marmottan. (Kelly and I both read the book last night when we got home and really enjoyed it!)

The museum was quite far from our apartment—almost to the Bois de Boulogne—so we took the Metro for the first time. Kelly took our change and bought the tickets at the automatic ticket machine. We had to change trains once and then got off at the La Muette station, an area of Paris where we haven’t been before. We walked through a little shopping area and then through a pretty neighborhood park. People were already laying out blankets to spend the day enjoying the sun in the park.

We loved the Musee Marmottan and were there a couple of hours. It’s in a beautiful old mansion on the edge of the park and covers three floors. The first floor (where you enter) has a variety of different collections that had nothing at all to do with Monets or the Impressionists. The lower level is totally Monet—there are over 40 Monet paintings displayed in the two adjoining rooms. The top level has some Monet paintings and paintings by other Impressionists, many of which belonged to Monet. The most famous painting in the gallery is Impression: Sunrise, painted by Monet in 1873. This painting of a bright red sun over some small boats and a body of water was the basis for the name “Impressionist” for this style of work. As opposed to previous styles of paintings that were much more realistic, Monet painted an “impression” of the sunrise. One of the downstairs rooms had mostly large canvases painted of various scenes at Giverny… water lilies, flowers, and the Japanese bridge. Several of the Japanese bridge paintings were painted when Monet was quite old and had developed cataracts—splashes of bold, even ugly colors, almost distorting the image of the little Japanese bridge. Apparently, his eyes were so bad he could not really see the colors… I suspect he was also angry at what was happening to his vision, so critical to his life’s passion.

They were showing a video about Monet in a small room on the upper level. The video was in French, but we watched for quite a long time. I wandered off to look at other paintings and Charley came back and got me—they were showing the video again, this time in English. Kelly and I watched the whole thing, learning quite a lot about Monet and his work. Then we went back downstairs to the big Monet gallery to look at everything again. Kelly is very interested in the art—the history of the paintings, the technique, and the detail.

They had a nice little shop at this museum too, with some of the same books and other items we’d seen at Giverny. We bought a paperback book about Monet and his work—it has lots of photos of paintings, and I think it’s something all three of us will read.

We reluctantly left the museum and headed back into the sunny park (Jardin du Ranelagh). The crowd in the park had grown considerably—many people sunbathing and picnicking, children playing in the playground and on a little merry-go-round that had been set up. We got ice cream from an ice cream stand and sat on a bench enjoying the pretty September Saturday. When we looked at our map, we realized that we weren’t far at all from the Trocadero and the Eiffel Tower, so we decided to walk on over there. We walked down Avenue Paul Doumer, passing a statue to Benjamin Franklin on the way. He was America’s Ambassador to France long ago.

The Trocadero and the plaza leading to the Eiffel Tower were bustling with energy—fountains shooting off, ice cream trucks selling their wares on a warm day, music blaring from some kind of auto show down by the fountains… it seemed that half of Paris was there at the Eiffel Tower this afternoon. We were drawn down into the busy environment at the Trocadero, pausing only to put some money into one of the sidewalk restrooms for a desperate Kelly. (Another little girl was very reluctant to use one of these restrooms—as I think I would be—but Kelly said they were just fine.)

After we did our overview bus tour of Paris, we sat down and independently made lists of what we wanted to do in Paris. (We had done the same thing in London… there’s just so much to do and see, you need to manage your time and make sure that each person’s priorities are included.) The Eiffel Tower was high on the list for both Kelly and for me—though given his anxiety about heights, it wasn’t on Charley’s list. In my three previous trips to Paris, I’ve only been up in the tower once… the time we came when Kelly was 14 months old. We had her big stroller with us that day and were only able to go to the first level. The next time we came, the tower was closed due to the Millennium security. I’ve always wanted to go all the way to the top. We hadn’t planned to go up into the Eiffel Tower today, but once we were in the crowd beneath the tower, we were caught up in the excitement… and hey, we were here… why make another trip?

I desperately wanted to go all the way to the top… Kelly wanted to walk up the steps to the first level and Charley was willing to accompany her. There were lines of people at three of the “legs,” and I joined the nearest line to buy my ticket. It was very warm, and I quickly finished the bottle of water I was carrying. We picked a meeting place, and Charley and Kelly went off to find the leg with the steps. I waited in the ticket line for about 45 minutes, then waited about another 20 minutes to take the elevator (almost a funicular) to the first level. At the first level, we were directed around the corner to another elevator that went all the way to the top. You could have gotten off at the second level, but no one on my elevator did. It was a long slow ride… I was by the side of the car and you could look out and watch this magnificent steel structure passing by. Once at the top, I climbed a set of stairs to the viewing platform. It was crowded, but reasonable—the real crowds were waiting in line down below. The view from the top was absolutely phenomenal… Paris in all directions, with the countryside just barely visible in the distance. We had picked a perfect day to come. I circled the platform, spotting familiar Paris landmarks and snapping pictures in all directions. After about 20 minutes, I was ready to go down. I wished I had someone to share this with, but hoped Charley and Kelly were enjoying their view from a lower level.

When I got to our meeting spot between two of the legs, I was surprised that Charley and Kelly weren’t already there. I sat on a ledge watching the crowd and waiting for them, hoping that I was in the right place. I didn’t have keys to the apartment, so it was important that I locate them! They arrived about 15 minutes later, and Kelly was wildly enthusiastic about their adventure. They had ended up walking all the way up to the second level—360 steps to the first level then another 700 steps to level two! Thank goodness our Coast-to-Coast walk helped them get in good shape. She was so proud of what they had accomplished and so excited about everything they had seen. This was the high point of her trip to Paris… in many ways!

This morning had been the first time we’d used the Metro, and Kelly now began suggesting the Metro as an alternative to the long walk back to the apartment, but we decided to walk. We passed by the replica of the Statue of Liberty’s torch flame at the Pont de l’Alma, a detour I wanted to make. This was originally erected to honor the members of the French Resistance movement in World War II, but in the past several years has become an unofficial memorial to Princess Diana. She was killed in a car accident in the highway tunnel underneath this area. People had left photos, messages and flowers, and several people were pausing, all of us remembering the popular princess who died in Paris. At this point, I realized we still had a good walk back and my feet were aching—we had walked several miles already on a warm day, and I wished I’d bought “real” walking sandals. I asked Charley if we could take the Metro after all, and we got back to the apartment about 5:00 pm. Charley went over to Monoprix to get a few things for tomorrow, when they will be closed. Kelly took charge of dinner again, and worked with Charley to fix a Mexican meal… quesadillas, refried beans, and rice. Not quite the same as home, but a good meal.

Sunday, September 5

We followed our normal Sunday tradition and didn’t set the alarm for this morning. We slept in and had an early lunch (brunch) at the apartment. We decided to have a laid back day today and check off a few things on our list: a walk through the Tuileries Gardens, a walk up the Champs D’Elysees, and a visit to the Arc de Triomphe. It was another really gorgeous day.

The Tuileries Gardens extend from the Louvre to the Place de la Concorde—formal gardens designed in the 17th century as part of a palace that burned down in the late 1800s. This was the first time we’ve walked through these famous gardens and it was the place to be in Paris today… lots of people sunbathing, with chairs pulled out in the sun by the big fountain. There were little old-fashioned toy sailboats for rent that moved through the fountain in the breeze, retrieved by children with little sticks. We saw a couple of cafes in the on either side of the main path through the gardens… lots of people enjoying a meal or a drink in the shade. At the end of the Tuileries Gardens, just by the Place de la Concorde, is another museum called L’Orangerie. Kelly had read about this museum in her Linnea book and knew that Monet’s final grand work resides there—eight huge water lily paintings in a specially designed circular room. She hoped to make this the final stop in her personal study of Monet. Unfortunately L’Orangerie was being renovated and is closed for several months. Kelly is already campaigning to come back to Paris so she can see these paintings.

We crossed the busy Place de la Concorde and walked through the park area leading to the busy shopping area of the Champs Elysées. Even on a Sunday with many shops closed, the Champs Elysées was a bustling with activity… wide sidewalks lined with trees, shops, hotels, and cafes. The Louis Vuitton shop was decorated to look like a big designer purse. We planned to stop at a café for ice cream—we actually sat down at one sidewalk café, looked at the menu, and quietly got up and moved on—too expensive! From there we walked up to the Arc de Triomphe and crossed under the busy street through an underground tunnel. We had gone to the top with baby Kelly on our 1994 trip and decided to go up again—this time the elevator wasn’t in operation, so we climbed 284 steps to the top. At least this kept the crowds small! A few people really struggled with the walk up the steps. Although the view from the top wasn’t as expansive as the Eiffel Tower, it was still a beautiful perspective of Paris… down the tree-lined Champs Elysées, across Montmartre to Sacré Coeur, and beyond the Arc to La Défense and its unique picture-frame office building.

There are 12 different streets that intersect at the Arc de Triomphe and the Place Charles de Gaulle-Etoile. We decided to walk back to the apartment a different way and took Avenue de Friedland to Rue St. Fabourg-Honoré. Rue St. Fabourg-Honoré is the Rodeo Drive of Paris, and we passed the designer shops like Versace and Gucci. We also walked behind a couple of the embassies with their guards on duty. We were still looking for the ice cream we had promised Kelly and did find a small café open…. we had beer and Kelly had ice cream—expensive, of course. Again, we found that there is very little open in Paris on a Sunday. Rue St. Fabourg-Honoré transformed into Rue St. Honore, and we stopped by our internet café to check for messages before heading back to the apartment. I fixed a Cajun chicken dish for dinner—Kelly had seen some pre-seasoned chicken at the Monoprix… it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t bad either.

After dinner we heard the faint strains of music wafting in our windows. It kept getting louder and louder. I wondered if it was some kind of a parade. Charley leaned out the window and discovered it was a parade of sorts… two men walking down the middle of Rue Therese playing trumpets, a woman pushing a cart with a boom box along the sidewalk, and a teenage boy holding out a hat for donations. Kelly and I hung out the windows… as did other neighbors… and enjoyed “Hello Dolly” and “When the Saints Come Marching In.” How funny to hear this music in Paris! Kelly wrapped a euro coin in a piece of paper and threw it down to the boy—he caught it! We saw another passer-by give him some paper money. It was a great ending to our weekend.

Monday, September 6

Charley got up early and walked to the Gare de Nord to check his route and buy his train ticket for his trip to Brussels on Friday. We are leasing a car under a special tax-free French program for tourists and had originally planned to pick the car up in Paris, which obviously makes more sense since that’s where we are. However, as we were finalizing the arrangements, the agent I was working with realized we would have a visa in our passports and that would potentially be a problem. Apparently this program is meant for short-term tourists, not people with visas. He recommended that we pick up the car outside of France, where no one would notice (or care) that we had a visa. We decided that Brussels was the most convenient option from Paris. We'll return the car in Barcelona in February (the end of the maximum lease period) and then pick up another leased car that same day. We actually wanted to go to Barcelona anyway. Anyway, this is the reason for Charley’s trip back to Brussels…. I am a bit nervous about him driving into Paris on his own, but it didn’t make sense to spend the money—or time—for all three of us to go to Brussels. He has already been studying the route into the center of Paris very carefully.

When Charley got back from his excursion, we all walked down to Brentano’s bookstore on the Avenue de l’Opera. This is a large bookstore with primarily English-language books. Kelly wanted to get a more substantial French/English dictionary. She also got a novel she’d been wanting and a simple children’s book in French (one of the Magic Treehouse series) that she wants to translate. We’ll have to see if she can read this book after six months in a French school.

Our main destination for the day was the Louvre. We arrived about 11:00 am and found it wasn’t too crowded. We last visited the Louvre in 1994, and Charley and I hadn’t remembered how beautiful the building itself is. People think of the Louvre as the most famous museum in the world and may not realize that it was actually a palace and the home of the French monarchs for hundreds of years. It’s a gigantic building… a bit hard to navigate, actually… with over 350,000 objects of art—antiquities, paintings, sculpture, furniture, and graphic arts.

The most famous object in the Louvre is the Mona Lisa—Leonardo da Vinci’s renowned painting of the woman with the mysterious smile. Like most tourists, we headed there first. There was a queuing area leading to the gallery where the Mona Lisa is displayed. Once we arrived at the painting, everyone was pushing to have their photo made standing in front of her. I’m not sure how many people were really studying the painting. We didn’t really study it either—it was just way too crowded. We found that if you stood over on the side, you could get a good view of the painting and hold your place for a few minutes. I have to say that I’m not quite sure what all the fuss is about—I much prefer the Impressionist paintings over at the Orsay.

We wandered around the museum, trying to see some of the more famous works. I liked the sculpture a lot… most people want to see Venus de Milo or the Winged Victory, but there is so much more to look at and the galleries themselves are so beautiful. I liked some of the big paintings—especially the Wedding at Cana and the Coronation of Napoleon.

We had lunch at the Café Richelieu in the museum… there was an outdoor terrace but we ate inside. There was just one waiter for the entire room, so the service was very slow. Charley and I both had quiche and Kelly had a sandwich she didn’t really like. It is so hard for her to eat out here and find something that she likes. Our meal wasn’t anything particularly special, but it was nice to sit down and rest for an hour.

After lunch we continued our exploration of the Louvre. Kelly and I wanted to visit the Napoleon III apartments… several rooms of the palace that have been restored and are really quite elaborate. We tried to visit an exhibition on the history of the Louvre, but it appeared to be under some type of construction. The museum shop was excellent.

We spent most of the afternoon at the museum. On the way back we stopped at one of the tourist shops on the Rue de Rivoli. Kelly got a good deal on two t-shirts that she had looked at last week. We also stopped over at the Monoprix to get a few groceries. I made the chicken with pepper sauce again tonight—this has replaced Chinese Chicken as the most popular meal in our household.

Tuesday, September 7

Charley and Kelly went out on some errands this morning… to try to get into see an orthodontist, to get her disposable camera developed, to try to resolve the problems with her digital camera memory stick, and to do some shopping. They were a bit vague about the shopping, but I suspect it had something to do with my birthday on Saturday. I stayed at the apartment to work on my blog—I did go over to the internet café for a while to do some research on our carte de sejour issue. I have proposed to Charley that we go by train to Avignon to try to submit our application there before the visas expire. It appears we need to go to the main “prefecture”—for the area where we will be living (the Vacluse), that is Avignon. I found a website for the city of Avignon and was able to get directions to the appropriate prefecture office for the carte de sejour and also their hours. On Wednesdays they are open in the morning and then again in the afternoon, so it seems to make sense to go tomorrow. I also looked up the train schedule and prices… we can take the earliest TGV train and arrive in Avignon at 9:00 am. The trip will cost us (gasp!) about $500.

When Charley and Kelly got home in the afternoon, Kelly was extremely excited about their adventure. They had walked several miles. Charley had decided to just go to the orthodontist’s office in person after he was unable to make an appointment by phone, and he had written out a little letter in French to try to pass to the orthodontist. The letter explained who we were and that our orthodontist at home had recommended this Dr. Castro since they had gone to dental school together. Charley had been able to hand the letter to Dr. Castro directly. Of course, he was glad to see Kelly—he looked at her braces and fixed the current problem. Like the orthodontist in Oxford, he didn’t charge us a thing. Kelly had her pack of photos developed and couldn’t wait to show them to me. She had also gotten a recommendation at the camera shop on a possible way to work with the problem memory stick. And then they bustled around secretly with a couple of bags from their shopping trip. They had eaten at a “Quick” restaurant, some type of American-style hamburger chain. Not quite the same as Kelly’s beloved Taco Bell, but she had enjoyed the meal. Finally—a place where she can find food that she likes!

I told Charley what I had learned about the possible trip to Avignon. His personal opinion is that we should just do nothing and hope that we are able to spend our six months in France undetected. This is probably a basic difference in our personalities, but I am more focused on following the rules and avoiding what I think could be a major risk. I told Charley that I think we should go to Avignon tomorrow. Although this isn’t what he would choose to do, he said he would support me in doing this and has promised not to say “I told you so” if we spend the money and make the trip in vain. Charley went over to the Gare de Lyon to buy our train tickets for tomorrow. The good news was that the English-speaking woman at the ticket window discovered some type of discount for him, and our tickets were only about $350… but still very expensive day trip we wouldn’t otherwise make. While Charley was at the station, Kelly and I went back over to the internet café for a while.

We found a small Italian restaurant around the corner from our apartment for dinner… the sign outside said it was air conditioned, but they were not running the air conditioner tonight. They seated us by the window, next to the only other patrons in the restaurant… two women. It was in the mid 80’s today I think… I wondered how hot it had to be for them to use the air conditioner. We had two pizzas, a diet coke, and two small beers—our meal in this non-descript little place cost 35 euro. The drinks killed us… 4.50 euro each and all three were very small. It’s expensive to eat out in Paris, especially to have any kind of drink. After dinner we went for a walk around the block and ran into the two ladies from the next table out on the street… a mother and daughter from Yorkshire on their first trip to Paris. They said they had been impressed with our communication with the waiter in French. We told them a bit about our recent trip to England, including our walking across England.

We went to bed very early tonight since we have our trip to Provence in the morning. I am praying that we get our visa issue resolved and behind us.

Wednesday, September 8

We went to Provence today… a day of mixed emotions in many ways. We set the alarm for 4:30 am (horrors!) and left the apartment at 5:20 am. There were several people out-and-about in Paris at that hour… seemingly normal people. We had decided to walk down to the Palais Royale metro station next to the Louvre and see what time the first metro train ran. This would be a direct metro to the Gare St. Lazare. If we were too early for the metro, we knew there was a cabstand at one of the hotels nearby where we hoped we could catch a cab.

We were lucky. The man was just opening the gates at the Palais Royale station when we arrived at 5:30 am, and we just had to wait a few minutes for our subway. The Gare St. Lazare was a busy place at this hour, and we had plenty of time. Our train left Paris at 6:20 am and arrived in Avignon at 9:00 am… a non-stop trip. To Kelly’s delight, our TGV was a double-decker train and fortunately (from her perspective) we had seats on the top level of the train. The TGV (train à grand vitesse) travels at speeds up to 185 miles per hour. We had no sensation of going that fast. Charley and Kelly walked down to the café car and brought back coffee and bread for breakfast.

My eyelids are much worse today—horribly red and puffy. In addition to not getting much sleep last night, I made them worse by trying a warm compress this morning. The medicine I’ve been using for a week isn’t having any impact. I wore my sunglasses much of the time on the train.

Despite the early time of day, our anxiety about the trip, and my eye problem, we enjoyed the ride. We watched the changing scenery, trying without much luck to follow our route in our France map book. It was difficult to read road signs and station names because our train was whizzing by so fast. Kelly got very excited as the terrain very noticeably changed, and we came into Provence—she was practically jumping up and down. We arrived at the modern TGV station outside of Avignon right on time. Ten minutes later we were on a bus headed into the “centre ville” (center of town).

I had the address of the prefecture office in Avignon that handled cartes de sejour, and we had found a small Avignon map in the back of our France map book. It was just a short walk around the walls of the old city, then across the busy road that circles central Avignon. Kelly kept saying, ‘I’m so excited to be in Provence, I’m so excited to be in Provence.” Inside I was saying, “I’m so nervous about this process, I’m so nervous about this process.”

We walked into a waiting room full of people… men, women and children. I saw only one other Anglo-looking person—most everyone seemed to be North African or Middle Eastern. Several of the women were wearing full Middle Eastern garb. It wasn’t clear what to do or where to go. There was some type of system that involved calling numbers for what seemed to be two different activities. I asked Kelly to take numbers from both of the machines so we were assured a place in either queue, while Charley got in line at the window that said “Accueil” (Reception). I stood at the side of the room where I could watch the numbers being called and also see Charley waiting in line. There were just a few people working with all the people waiting, and numbers were being called very slowly. Based on what I saw, it was possible they wouldn’t even get to our numbers before the 3:00 pm closing time.

Finally Charley got to the front of the reception line and beckoned me over. The woman who was waiting on him was obviously new and was being trained by another woman, so the whole process was very slow. They looked at our papers, and then—as best we could understand the French—told us that we needed to go to the village where we would be living to apply for our cartes de sejour. They went back into another section of the office and brought in another woman who spoke some English. She said that in the Vaucluse you need to go to your village to apply. This is apparently handled differently in every department. We needed to go to the Mairie (town hall) in Bonnieux. It was 10:00 am. We explained that we had taken the train from Paris… was the Mairie even open today? The woman hesitated… we must have looked pathetic, and she did her best to try to help us. She went back into the office to call the Bonnieux Mairie and came back to tell us they were open today until 12 noon only. Tomorrow they would be open also in the afternoon. Of course, we were only here for today.

We knew Bonnieux was at least 40 minutes from Avignon, and we had no transportation. Fortunately, we were just a few blocks from the main train station where we knew there would be cabs and perhaps even rental cars. We trotted off down the street and saw a Europcar sign by the station. Fifteen minutes later we were on our way to Bonnieux. We even got some kind of discount due to Charley’s age. Kelly’s excitement heightened as we headed down the N100 toward Bonnieux and she began to recognize the village names on the road signs: Isle sur la Sorgue, Apt, Cavaillon, Lacoste, then finally Bonnieux. It was a hot dusty day and a dramatic contrast once again to the city of Paris where we’d woken up just a few hours ago. We were in rural France among grape vines, cherry trees, olive trees, perched villages, and isolated farmhouses.

We arrived in Bonnieux about 11:15 am and saw the sign for the Mairie. Charley dropped Kelly and I off while he went to look for a place to park our car. On the train I had written up a little speech in French, explaining our situation and especially the problem with the dates of our transit visa. I had our red folder of visa papers and clutched my little speech on the top of the pile. There was one woman behind the front desk in the old Mairie building… some kind of administrative person. I launched into my little speech, unsure if I was communicating properly. Within just a minute or two, she appeared to say that we couldn’t apply here. I was never sure if it was because of the problem with the dates or some other reason. She said that we needed to go back to Paris. I tried to explain that Paris had told us to go to Avignon, and Avignon had told us to go to Bonnieux. Suddenly an English-speaking man stepped up beside me. I hadn’t even realized that there were others in the office.

“Perhaps, I can help,” he said. He spoke very good French with an appropriate amount of authority in his tone. I quickly tried to communicate our situation. He spent several minutes trying to represent me to the woman at the Marie and then reported back to me what she said. She continued to be firm in her assertion that we needed to go back to Paris. Charley arrived and also tried to communicate that Avignon had sent us here. We got nowhere—she was adamant that we couldn’t apply here and we must go back to Paris. She stepped out of the room to make us a copy of some regulations, and I couldn’t help it—I burst into tears. It was really an awful moment… not enough sleep, my raw red eyelids, our inability to communicate in another language, the money we had spent to make this trip to Provence. In fifteen minutes we were clearly at a dead end.

I felt sorry for the nice man who had tried to help us. He turned out to be a Canadian who was renting a cottage in a nearby village for just a few weeks. He had come into the Mairie with his wife for just a simple question… and encountered the Wood family and all our problems. As we thanked him for his help, he suggested that the owners of our house might have some ideas for us.

We left the Mairie office and sat outside on the old stone steps. I was still in tears, so frustrated that I had put so much time and energy (and money) into this visa process and it had gotten so horribly screwed up. I had visions of being ejected from France with nowhere to go… now I didn’t have a job and we had rented out our house. Had we even done the right thing by coming to Europe? It was a truly terrible moment for me… at that moment I desperately wanted to be back home where at least I could communicate and solve problems.

I saw Kelly watching Charley and me, her eyes open wide. She had been so thrilled to be in Bonnieux. Charley and I tried to shift into a positive mode… we didn’t want Kelly to absorb our anger and anxiety. We had almost six hours before our return train to Paris… we would find a place to sit down, maybe get something to eat. I would take the Canadian man’s advice and try to call the owners of our house.

We went down the narrow street to a café that served sandwiches and pizza. It was about 11:30. The staff of the restaurant was sitting at one of the tables having their own lunch—they didn’t open until noon. Another café had outdoor tables… the menu seemed more limited, but it was a place we could sit down and regroup. As we sat down, the person at the next table greeted us… the Canadian man from the Mairie and his wife. He was a retired Mountie and they were going back to Canada at the end of the week. He gave Kelly a mountie pin and his wife gave Kelly a Canadian flag pin.

The café had an even more limited menu than we had realized… they were out of almost everything. Kelly and I ordered ice cream and I ordered a glass of wine for Charley and I to share. While we waited on our food, I walked down the street to a pay telephone and called the number of the house. I have been dealing with Cynthia by e-mail for almost a year, but we had never talked. I knew she and her husband Ian were spending about six weeks at the house… until our arrival. We hadn’t expected to be in Bonnieux today, so there was no need to let them know we would be in Provence.

Ian answered the phone, and I introduced myself. He’s British and was very friendly. “I’ve been seeing your name a lot lately,” he said. “We’ve had all kinds of packages arriving here for you.” (We had packed some winter clothes and books in 13 small packages which Charley’s daughter had mailed off to France a few weeks ago… this was another challenge we had to deal with in preparing for our long trip!) I explained a bit about the visa issue and why we were in Bonnieux unexpectedly, then asked if it was possible for us to stop by and meet them and see the house. I was very apologetic about calling them with no notice and said we didn’t want to stay long… we just hated to be in Bonnieux without coming by. He was instantly welcoming—apologetic they were not able to have us for lunch. We agreed on 2:00 pm as a time for us to come by, and I got directions to the house.

We had almost two hours to occupy until 2:00 pm. Charley and I were still pretty agitated about what had happened at the Mairie, but we decided to make the best of our trip to Provence. We didn’t want to hang around Bonnieux though… I definitely didn’t want to run into the Mairie secretary in this small village. We drove over to the neighboring village of Lacoste, a place we had never visited on our trip last summer. The house we’re renting is between Bonnieux and Lacoste, and although the address is Bonnieux, it actually seems on the map to be closer to Lacoste. We parked near the bottom of the village and walked around. There were absolutely beautiful views across the valley and of Bonnieux perched on the next hilltop. We knew that “our house” was somewhere down in that valley. We peeked in the old church and sat on a bench at the boules court at the top of the village. The ruins of the 11th century castle once owned by the Marquis de Sade sit at the top of the village. From a sign we saw on a shop window, it appears that Pierre Cardin now owns the castle.

We found a small café (the Café de Sade… what else??) with a couple of outdoor tables. There were also a couple of dogs lurking around, which served as a magnet for Kelly’s attention. Charley and I had both perked up… despite our struggles on this silly visa issue, we were back in Provence… the inspiration for this life change and our 14-month trip. We got a whiff of the aroma of this beautiful region and already were more relaxed. Charley and I shared a tart, and we all had drinks… it was definitely a much cheaper meal than we’ve been used to in Paris!

Suddenly it was 1:45 pm and time to drive to the house! We found our way easily from Lacoste… a ten-minute drive at most. We drove down from the village on a winding narrow road, past the old stone lavoir (community clothes washing pool), through woods and past vineyards. A dirt road cut up on the right up towards the Petit Luberon Mountain, past even more vineyards. Then we saw a little sign pointing on the left to La Bastide Vieille (the old farmhouse)… with the village of Bonnieux visible in the distance. This morning we left our Paris apartment… now this afternoon we were here. The contrast in these two environments was amazing. Ian was outside and walked over as we drove up… an energetic man with longish gray hair… perhaps in his late 50’s, maybe early 60’s… who knows? Cynthia came outside to meet us, and she and I hugged. It was great to finally meet her, and a shock—she is American! All this time… I’m not quite sure why… I had thought she was British. She’s actually even from Maryland—the state where I grew up. Cynthia was a down-to-earth person, but I also thought she was very classy… wearing a simple black tank dress. I was conscious of my capris and t-shirt and yucky red eyelids. She’s a professional photographer, and they live part of the year in Mexico. Cynthia and Ian are definitely a couple with an interesting life.

Their little black cat came running up to greet us too… his name is Chico, and he’ll be staying with us at the house. Kelly will be responsible for his care and is excited about having a pet. She has really missed our dog Milly. Cynthia and Ian also have a little blind poodle, who managed to get around pretty well. The dog will be staying with Ian’s daughter in England when they head off to Mexico.

We spent about 45 minutes at the house… Ian had an appointment, but took the lead to show us around the outside of their property. They have about four acres. From the back of their land… near their two rows of vines and the neighbor’s much larger vineyard, there’s a beautiful view of the village of Lacoste. Most of the property immediately around the house is landscaped… green lawn, shrubs and flowers… kept beautiful by a gardener and a sprinkler system. There’s a pool, but it will be closed up for the six months of our stay. It sure looked appealing on this hot day. Cynthia showed us around the inside of the house. I’ve studied the internet photos for the past year, but now here we were… it was even better than the photos. We were all very excited. We will like living here. It definitely made up for our horribly disappointing encounters at the Avignon prefecture and the Bonnieux Mairie.

We will see Cynthia and Ian again on October 2nd, when we arrive to stay. We’re going to spend the night together in the house so they can introduce us to everything we need to know. We even picked out our bedrooms—the room for Kelly is the Iris Room, named after the Van Gogh iris painting. Charley and I will at least start off in the Poppy Room. I told Cynthia briefly about our visa issues—she said she’s lived in France on-and-off for over ten years and hasn’t had a carte de sejour for years. She knows someone who may be able to advise us, and promised to e-mail me the contact information for this woman.

We drove back to Bonnieux and then Kelly asked if we could go to Saignon, the village where we had vacationed last year. It’s about 20 minutes from Bonnieux and a very pretty drive across the Claparèdes Plateau. When we got to Saignon, we just drove through the village. It’s so pretty and we really like it a lot… Charley and I had considered renting a place there for our long stay but then decided to take the house in the country instead.

We drove from Saignon down to the larger town of Apt. We’re anxious to get to know more about Apt when we come here to stay, as we didn’t really have a very good impression on our visit last summer. We’ll probably come to Apt to do our major grocery shopping, and there’s a big market on Saturdays that we’ll need to try. Since we were there last June, there’s a new addition in Apt—a McDonalds restaurant. Kelly asked if we could go through the drive-in and get her a meal—a major mistake. She likes her cheeseburgers “plain” (just the bun, the meat and the cheese—she’ll put on her own catsup, thank you). It works out okay in America to do a special order at a drive-through, but it’s much harder in France where the person on the other end of the speaker can’t tell you don’t speak French well, can’t understand you through the speaker anyway, and may not be used to the concept of a special order. We had to wait a long time for our food, and then it wasn’t quite right. I was getting very nervous about getting back to Avignon in time to return our car and get the train back to Paris.

We headed down the N100 back to Avignon, also looking for a place to fill up the car with gas along the way. The road wasn’t dotted with gas stations, like we would normally expect at home. The first place we stopped wasn’t attended, and we couldn’t seem to use our credit card at the pump. Finally we found a place to get gas, and we actually got to the station with 15 minutes to spare. I was pretty strung out… tired, emotional and then my eyelids were just terrible. We just rested and read on the trip back to Paris. We got back to our apartment about 8:30 pm. Charley fixed a meal of odds and ends from the refrigerator.

My friend Becky called while we were eating. She had arrived in Paris this morning, and we made plans to meet tomorrow evening. We are really looking forward to spending time with a friend from home.

What a long day of mixed emotions—the excitement of being in Provence, the dead end at the Avignon prefecture, the mad dash to get a rental car and drive out to Bonnieux, the ultimate defeat at the Mairie in Bonnieux, but then the wonderful experience meeting Cynthia and Ian and seeing our beautiful house. We went to bed early… looking forward to tomorrow in Paris.

Thursday, September 9

After the drama of yesterday, we had a low-key morning in the apartment. We will have Becky and her friend over to see the apartment this evening, so I tidied up and even did a bit of cleaning. My eyelid is still terrible, and the medicine I got at the pharmacy last week is obviously not doing anything for me. I decided to throw it away. I’ve used Walgreen’s internet service to mail-order a refill of a prescription my doctor gave me for a similar problem a couple years ago, and I hope it arrived at my friend Jeanne’s house in time for Becky to bring to me tonight.

I went over to the internet café after breakfast and dealt with quite a few e-mails. Of course, I finally heard from the French consulate in Atlanta. They said their server had been down. I got quite a long e-mail reviewing the carte de sejour process… it appears there must have been a miscommunication between Charley and the individual he had talked to when he picked up the visas… how terrible that we had not noticed the issue with the dates when we were still in the US and perhaps they could have addressed this… given their process, they would not have been able to issue us a transit visa in mid-May with an effective date of late-August anyway—mid-July at the latest. And so on… They hoped we had made the trip to Avignon and could prove that we were there before September 9th. Would a train ticket and a rental car agreement be proof? Or, would the woman at the Mairie remember the hysterical American woman?? I decided not to respond right away.

I also had a message from Jeanne that my prescriptions had—of course—arrived on Wednesday afternoon, after Becky’s departure from the US. I will have to struggle on with my red eyelids until Jeanne comes to Provence on October 8. This wasn’t my day for good news at the internet cafe.

Charley fixed baguette sandwiches for us at the apartment. We decided to go over to the Left Bank and see some of the sights on that side of the Seine. It was another gorgeous day in Paris. We walked over to St-Germain de Près and watched the action at the two famous cafes on the square. We went inside the enormous St-Suplice church just down the street—a very substantial structure with a pretty square and fountain out front. We hadn’t been to the Luxembourg Gardens before and spent an hour or so there. The gardens are just beautiful… a large palace, lots of statues (mostly of women it seemed), shady areas with benches, a big beautiful lake with lots of sun-seekers, tennis courts, and lush landscaping including palm trees in enormous pots. If I lived in Paris, I’d want to come here with a good book on a Sunday afternoon. There were several ice cream stands just outside one of the gates and we bought good cones of sorbet and walked back inside the park to enjoy them on a park bench.

We had to hustle back across the Seine to get ready for dinner. We’ve decided to take Becky and her friend to Madeleine 7 after all (Kelly is thrilled that she’ll get the pasta bolognaise), so Charley walked down there to make a reservation for a table out on the sidewalk. At 6:15 we left to walk over to the Louvre, where we arranged to meet Becky and her friend next to the Arc de Triomphe de Carousel… kind of a miniature version of the big Arc de Triomphe but with a gold chariot on the top. We got there right at the planned meeting time of 6:30, and Charley and I split up to wait on different sides of the Carousel while Kelly took photos of the Louvre. We waited several minutes, and finally a woman approached me. “Are you Kathy?” she asked. She introduced herself as Becky’s friend Janie. I had somehow missed a key detail-- there are two friends traveling with Becky… two women she went to college with. They had a busy day of sightseeing, and Becky and the other friend had gone back to their apartment on the Left Bank to get a couple of things. They are staying with some American friends of one of the women who are on assignment in Paris for one of the oil companies.

We chatted with Janie until Becky and her other friend—Sherry—arrived. It was just great to see Becky… the first friend from home I’ve seen since Brian Huskey back in London at the beginning of our trip. I’ve known Becky since 1979, so about 25 years. We both went to work for what was then Union Carbide right out of college… actually there were several of us who met at that same time. We were all in our early 20’s, not long out of college, single, and beginning our careers with Union Carbide. Twenty-five years ago we started a tradition of getting together on a December afternoon or evening to bake Christmas cookies—kind of a cookie exchange that involved a lot of wine and intense conversation. This tradition became known as “Cookie Day” and there are six of us that are Cookie Day friends… five of us within 15 months or so of age and a sixth friend (my friend Jeanne) who’s about ten years older. Over the years we’ve seen many changes in our lives… marriages, children, divorces, the deaths of parents, career changes. Interestingly, the five of us with children all have only one child—Kelly is by far the youngest, since I got a late start. Jeanne is now retired, but three of the six still work with successor companies of the original Union Carbide division—including Becky, who has a key executive position at the Oak Ridge National Lab. We get together as a group two, maybe three times a year, though we always say we want to do it more often. Cookie Day has continued as an important holiday tradition… but we no longer care very much about the cookies or even as much about the wine. This past Christmas—for the very first time—we went out to dinner at a restaurant and didn’t even touch a cookie. When Charley and I married in 1992, I had the Cookie Day friends and their husbands/dates seated in my family section—these friendships are very special to me. So now, here Becky and I were together in Paris!

Becky came bearing gifts. She brought two boxes of pop tarts for Charley—he is addicted to the frosted brown sugar and cinnamon kind. I thought he was going to fall on his knees and kiss her feet. She also had a bag of gifts for Kelly. We had to restrain Kelly so she would wait till we got to the apartment to look through the bag.

The six of us walked back to our apartment, chatting in small groups as we walked. We liked Sherry and Janie instantly. They’ve been reading my blog—forwarded to them by Becky—so they knew more about us than we knew about them. Obviously I hadn’t even realized that Becky was traveling with two friends. Sherry and Janie are friends of Becky’s from the University of Tennessee, though Sherry now lives in Texas and Janie is in Colorado. Janie’s husband is a pilot with one of the airlines, and the three of them have traveled here on free tickets—standby—for two weeks in France. Becky has been to Paris once before, but this is her first meaningful trip here and the first for the other two. They arrived yesterday morning.

We rode up in our little elevator in two groups. Kelly and I showed off our apartment while Charley poured the wine. Kelly eagerly opened her bag of gifts… some University of Tennessee items (Becky’s alma mater, located in our hometown of Knoxville)—a long-sleeved shirt, some lounging pants, a short-sleeved top, and a can cover. Becky also gave Kelly some candy and bubble gum. Jeanne had sent over Kelly’s favorite brand of toothpaste that we’ve been unable to find here. Kelly was thrilled to get all this loot… though not as excited as Charley was about his pop tarts. He cannot wait for breakfast tomorrow.

Sherry had hoped to stop in Brentanos, a big English bookstore on the Avenue de l’Opera and on the way to our café. Unfortunately, it closed at 7:30 pm, just before we arrived. We headed on down to the Boulevard de la Madeleine, pointing out the glittering Opera house and the column at the Place Vendome on the way. We got to the café a bit before our 8:00 pm reservation, and Charley asked the waiter to adjust our table to seat six people instead of the original five.

Madeleine 7 turned out to be a great choice. We had a table right out on the sidewalk and the same fun waiter we’d had our first night in Paris—his name was Alexander. He spoke just a little English and really helped make this a truly enjoyable evening. We were at dinner almost three hours—how French! We had drinks before dinner, and then everyone but Kelly had French onion soup. Kelly did try Sherry’s soup—and liked it. I had a Salad Nicoise, Charley had Steak Hache, Becky had sole, Kelly and Janie had the infamous pasta bolognaise, and Sherry had the lamb chops plat de jour. She gave me one of her lamb chops, which was very good.

We also all had desserts. Kelly aggressively touted the crème brulee, which they all ordered… the biggest serving of crème brulee I’ve ever seen. I had an ice cream sundae—fraise (strawberry), framboise (raspberry) and lots of chantilly. Becky insisted on picking up the bill.

After dinner we walked Becky, Sherry and Janie over to the metro station at the Place de Madeleine where they could get a direct subway back to their own station. Charley will be making his trip to Brussels in the morning, and they have invited Kelly and I to join them for the day—which we have decided to do. Kelly really likes the three women, so she’s very excited. We enjoyed the walk back to our apartment… we really haven’t been out in Paris much after dark and this has been a really enjoyable evening.

Friday, September 10

Charley was up before 5:00 am and left at 5:30 am to get to Gard de Nord to catch the train to Brussels to get our car. I smelled the brown sugar and cinnamon—he had three pop tarts for breakfast. He’s located a parking garage off Avenue de l’Opera where he can park the car overnight, and he’s studied his directions very carefully. The parking is expensive, but we will be able to cart our bags there from the apartment. There really isn’t anywhere to pull up on our tiny street to load the car.

I never got back to sleep after Charley left… I stayed up and worked on my Coast-to-Coast blog. I’m really trying to capture the experience of our long walk, so I’ve spent a bit more time on these postings. I lost track of time and realized at 8:50 am that Kelly and I were supposed to be standing outside a café on the Left Bank at 10:00 am. I got Kelly up, and we rushed to get ready. We took the Metro over to the Rue du Bac station and arrived just on time. They were just a few minutes late…. had gotten back late from our dinner and then stayed up talking into the early morning hours.

They had planned a good day in Paris, and we happy just to tag along. We were glad to have a fun “Girls Day.” Kelly was beside herself to be with these women, and they were all so great to her. Kelly fit right in with this group of 40-somethings! We walked down Boulevard Raspail to a big street market… almost all food. It was three times bigger than the market at St. Honore… maybe five vegetable sellers where that market had two. Becky, Sherry and Janie had never been to a French street market, and it was fun watching them having this first experience. Kelly and I tried to explain the market process, tell them the French words for the different food, and make some suggestions of what to buy. Kelly helped with the ordering and also counting out the change. Kelly bought a little box of fresh raspberries, and we bought some little cakes at a boulangerie stand. The others got some cheese, fruit and bread. I had to take Kelly off to the side, as she got nauseous near one of the fishmongers. Hopefully one day she will learn to appreciate fish and seafood!

The woman that Becky and her friends are staying with had recommended Rue de Rennes as a good shopping street… and it was. The street was lined with a variety of interesting shops. Becky was looking for a pair of Parisian shoes for her college-aged daughter Monica who apparently loves shoes. Sherry wears the same size shoes as Monica, so she was the shoe model. We found a shoe store with a good selection at very reasonable prices—and lots of high-heeled, pointy-toed, French-looking shoes. These are the types of shoes that some people call “cockroach killers” and resemble a slice of pizza… the types of shoes that I would never in a million years be able to wear! (I own about ten pairs of practical black shoes… a one-inch heel is high for me!) Kelly was right in the middle of the shopping for Monica’s shoes. She, Becky and Sherry were in the shoe store a good 45 minutes and really seemed to have a great time—all three of them were trying on shoes, even taking some photos. Janie and I were finished looking at shoes in about ten minutes… we continued on down the street visiting the various shops.

They finally did find a perfect pair of shoes for Monica, and we headed on for some other shopping. We found an L’Occitane de Provence shop, which I love—various soaps and fragrances made in Provence from natural ingredients like lavender, honey and oranges. The saleswoman was very friendly, and they all bought quite a few things. I bought Kelly a couple of small soaps, and she had fun smelling and testing the fragrances.

Farther down the street was a small kitchen shop with colorful pottery piled on tables on the sidewalk. The prices were very good. Kelly and I bought three colorful bowls (2.50 euro each) and a little cheese spreader. Kelly asked if she could buy some lavender sachets to give to Becky and her friends as gifts from Provence. The other three women all bought several things here as well.

We stopped in a grocery store. I thought they would be interested to see what was in a Parisian supermarket, and they ended up buying quite a few things. Kelly continued to be helpful with the language and the currency. We got a bit tangled up locating their street (I wasn’t totally useless with the map for some reason) and were now lugging a lot of heavy bags. We finally found their apartment building near the Rue du Bac station. Sherry and I stopped in a boulangerie to get some lunch items, while Kelly went up to the apartment with Becky and Janie. We had decided to fix lunch up in their apartment. The people they are staying with have gone on a trip to Germany, so they have the apartment to themselves.

Sherry’s friends have a nice apartment on the 7th floor of a building that is much newer than ours. The apartment has two bedrooms and is a good size—after our tiny kitchen, this kitchen seemed enormous! The apartment stretches the width of the building, so there are windows on two sides and lots of light—the Eiffel Tower was clearly visible from one of the windows. There was a very tiny, very slow elevator up to the 7th floor. I tried to think about other things during the slow ride up in the elevator…I didn’t like it.

Janie decided to go on over to the Musee d’Orsay, but the rest of us stayed in the apartment and fixed a simple lunch—I cut up the two cheese baguettes I had bought and then we had bread, a great brie cheese, and apple slices. Sherry encouraged Kelly to try the Rondele cheese (an herb cheese spread), which she loved. It’s interesting how she is more likely to try new things when they are offered by other people! We sat around the coffee table and talked. Kelly has really connected with all three of the women, and it’s good for her to be around some other people. She is an extremely confident 11-year old, which I see more clearly when we are with others.

We lingered too long over lunch. All four of us crowded into the tiny elevator of their apartment building—I prayed that we would make it down safely! We were late getting over to the Orsay to meet Janie. Although Kelly and I had visited the Orsay last week, we had hoped to go again and it was fun to go with a group who was visiting for the first time. Kelly basically took over as the tour guide—I hoped she wasn’t being too aggressive. She was very excited to show them the Impressionist artists. We visited all the galleries on the 5th floor, and I think they loved it as much as we did. Kelly had retained a tremendous amount of information about the paintings and the artists from her use of the audioguide last week. She has become somewhat of an expert on Monet after her visits to the Marmottan and Giverny and also the Monet book we’ve both now completed. Kelly made a lot of digital photos of her favorite paintings.

I really enjoyed being back at the Orsay—I’ll take this any day over the Louvre. I told Kelly that her two weeks in Paris have been an art appreciation class and that today was her final exam—we all gave her an A+. I was very proud of her. Kelly and I bought a book about Renoir at the museum shop… in the same series as our Monet book.

I had told Charley that we would meet him back at the apartment at 5:00 pm. I had thought about him all day… hoping that everything had gone well in Brussels and that he had safely navigated his way back to Paris. Kelly and I dashed back to the apartment… we stayed longer than we planned at the Orsay and decided to take the metro. We had left our bags at Becky’s apartment after lunch—Becky and Sherry still wanted to go to Brentanos and said they’d bring them to us on their way there.

Charley was at the apartment… he’d actually gotten back about 2:00 pm. He said it only took him 10 minutes to get the car—no problem with the visa in the passport—and he’d had a good drive to Paris. His only glitch occurred just a few minutes from our apartment when a car had broken down in the circle at the Opera House and created a traffic jam. He had time for a nap, though somehow he’s now caught a cold.

Kelly was so excited to tell Charley about our day, and then she set up the computer to show him the digital photos she’d just taken of the paintings at the Orsay. Her memory stick was locked up again—we thought we had a solution, but the stick obviously has serious problems. The photos are lost. Kelly was devastated.

Charley and Kelly went over to the Monoprix while I waited for Becky and Sherry, who arrived about 6:15 pm. Janie was taking it easy back at the apartment. They are really enjoying their time in Paris, and we sure enjoyed being with them today. We had wine and talked for about 45 minutes… they will be in Paris for several more days, then plan to go to the Loire Valley and over to Bordeaux, where there is another friend to visit. They plan to visit us in Turenne (where we will be after our week in Burgundy) just before going home. Fortunately Becky took almost the same digital photos that Kelly took at the Orsay, and she offered to make Kelly a disk of her photos. Becky will also find us an inexpensive new memory stick when she gets home and will send it to Kelly in Provence. She’s really a great friend.

Our last night in Paris we went to a Japanese restaurant! Our apartment building is in a Japanese area and there’s actually a Japanese restaurant on the ground floor of our building. Kelly enjoys Japanese food at home—well, some Japanese food—and was intrigued by the aromas in our lobby. She had asked to go to that restaurant… it seems to be very popular with Japanese and Caucasians. We obviously didn’t have far to go! The restaurant was bigger than we realized… several different rooms and we were seated in a little area pretty much by ourselves. The menu was a problem though—it was only in French and Japanese (not English), and we didn’t see anything resembling chicken teriyaki. Our waiter was French, but did not speak any English… we really weren’t sure what was on the menu. Kelly and I finally each ordered a poulet (chicken) dish and Charley got something with beef. Kelly also wanted soup, and we saw soups with the word “ramen” in their names… she loves ramen noodle soup. We asked the waiter which soup to order. We got a big bowl of soup which we all shared—I think it was really a main dish. No wonder the waiter was surprised at all the food we ordered! I was expecting a small bowl like we get at home. The soup was very good—lots of big ramen noodles and also corn. Our chicken and rice dish was good but bland… I added lots of soy sauce and Kelly even added some of the soup. Charley’s beef dish was really good. Kelly had a coke and Charley and I had beer. It was a reasonable price for all we got, but was still expensive relative to a comparable meal at home. We tried to tell the waiter that we were living upstairs above the restaurant… I think he actually understood us.

We took the elevator upstairs and started getting organized to head out in the morning. I did most of my packing tonight, as I need to go to the internet café before we leave tomorrow. We could stay until noon tomorrow, but Charley wants to get an earlier start and avoid the traffic in Paris. Despite the strange saga of our visas, we’ve really enjoyed our time in Paris… two weeks was just about right for us. We’re excited now to visit som