A child in Paris

When I was with my friends in Paris, I laughed a lot and goofed around with the kids. My 20 year-old-self would have been horrified with the 2007 version, especially when I was walking along the Seine pretending to be an elephant, a bear, a tree, and whatever else Jack commanded me to be.
One morning, I also tried to keep up with Jack, who seemingly took about 8 steps for every step I took (he and Ella had pedometers to measure their progress). At one point I was doing the "funky Jack" and trying to copy every step, pose, and dance move Jack made, which of course made him get progressively crazier.

One of my guide books said it was refreshing to see Paris through the eyes of a child, and it definitely was an experience filled with more laughter and all out giddiness then when I have traveled with other adults.





After my friends left, I wandered the streets, got soaked in a downpour, spent too much money on jewelry, ate in a beautiful art deco cafe, lost my self in a good book while drinking the ubiquitous vin rose and slowly returned to my adult life.

I loved both versions of Paris.

Paris

Although I had fantasies of attending English boarding school (the result of reading too many Enid Blyton books as a child), Paris was the first European city I fell in love with, long before I actually traveled to Europe.

I am not sure exactly how I developed my love for Paris, but it was firmly entrenched by the time I was a young teenager - I devoured anything by Hemingway, and read every great and not so great writer's account of their time in Paris in the 1920s.

When I first went to Paris at age 20, I wandered around with A Moveable Feast in my hand, oohing and ahhing whenever I encountered a landmark described in the book. When I wasn't retracing Hemingway's steps, I was falling in love with the Impressionists, and visited every gallery I could.

My first visit was in November, when Paris was cold and grey, and relatively empty of tourists.

My second trip was last week (unbelievably 18 years later - how could I have stayed away so long?), in the middle of August, prime tourist season. Paris was still largely cool, and mostly grey, but overcome by tourists.

This trip I was traveling with my good friends Donna and Chris, and their children Jack and Ella. Our first stop on our first day was the Orangerie Museum, to see Monet's Waterlilies. I was entranced by the Waterlilies the first time I saw them, and was looking forward to seeing them again. But my heart sank in the first room. With so many people crowding in (many of who kept posing for photos in front of the paintings), I was having a hard time seeing why I had been so taken by them.

I was starting to think Paris had lost its charms.

Our next visit to the Orsay didn't do much to change my opinion. Again, crowds and crowds of people shuffled quickly past all the Impressionist paintings I loved.

But even the huge lineup, crowds of people, and the ever present gypsies couldn't diminish the charms of the Eiffel tower. As dusk started to fall, and I gazed out at the tower, Paris seduced me all over again.

Paris worked it's magic on six year old Jack as well. As it got darker, the tower started to light up and Jack couldn't take his eyes off of it.


All five of us were giddy with Paris, taking silly pictures, entranced by the glow of the old iron tower.

And then, the crowd collectively gasped and squealed as the tower started to sparkle.

How can anyone not love Paris?

Face off!

My parents are arriving this Thursday for their first visit to Krakow. As you know, I have been bemoaning the state of my apartment (cat hair, huge dust bunnies, etc) for quite a while, and have been hounding my landlord for a cleaning lady since I first arrived.
I told him last week I had to have someone in to clean before my mother arrived. So he arranged for what he calls "emergency cleaning" today.

He wanted me to be here while the cleaning lady cleans, so instead of cleaning myself Saturday morning (which is what I normally do), I am sitting here feeling over privileged and guilty, while a nice older Polish women cleans my apartment. I am attempting to assuage my middle-class guilt by catching up on work, uploading more photos, and contacting technical support to see if I can get my wireless router to work (still no luck).

The most memorable moment of the morning: Small asserted her ownership of the apartment by lying on the stairs and not budging while the cleaning lady attempted to clean them. At over 20 pounds, Small is a force to be reckoned with when she doesn't want to move. However, older Polish ladies are no pushovers. After some plaintive meowing, Small was banished upstairs with her tail between her legs, and is now hiding out in the bedroom.

Memory card full

Yeah, I know none of you regular readers will believe that the memory card on my digital camera is now full (meaning I have taken somewhere close to 700 pictures since I arrived in Poland a few months ago). But it is.

I am looking at some of the 700 odd pictures right now, on my other computer (you know, the one that is still not connected to the internet).

Maybe one day you'll see some of them. Must remember to change the memory card (or erase the pictures) and recharge the batteries for the camera before I go to Paris this weekend.

Visitors!

I had my first houseful of visitors this weekend. My close friends from Toronto, Chris and Donna, arrived early Friday morning with their two children Jack and Ella, and Chris' sister Yanti, who is currently living in Germany.

I dropped them off at the airport a few hours ago, and they pronounced Krakow a lovely city to visit, and stated that the accommodations weren't too shabby either.

At 6 and 8, this was Jack and Ella's first visit to Europe. When I asked Ella what she liked best about the trip thus far, she said she liked eating out and stated that at home she only gets to eat out 3 or 4 times a year.

I believe Jack's favourite activity was steering a paddle boat in Park Jordana while his big sister did all the peddling. He told us all, very loudly, that steering was very hard work. Ella stated even more loudly that her legs were very tired.

The fire breathing dragon we went to see on Friday was perhaps a close second.

Best quote from six year old Jack on the 6th day of his European vacation, "You mean we have to go out and walk somewhere every day?"

Roundabouts

Roundabouts, known as rondos in Polish, are everywhere in Poland. Today I encountered a large one in a big box parking lot!

Roundabouts, known as traffic circles in my home town, don't phase me, largely because I learned how to drive in one of the few (if not only) Canadian cities where roundabouts were part of the city roadways.

Every time I drive in Europe I am thankful that some unknown Edmonton city planner decided to include traffic circles on main city thoroughfares. Although driving the wrong way around roundabouts in Britain was a little unnerving (particularly with 8 lanes of traffic!)

Sadly, some other unknown city planner decide to remove all of the traffic circles from the Edmonton streets sometime after I left the city in early 90s. Thousands of Canadians will never encounter a roundabout on Canadian soil now.