Category: Travel

Life · Travel

Ominous Beginning

Sally9 Comments

The man seated ahead of us on our Newark to Paris flight was large and loud.

I missed the beginning of the “discussion” because we were getting situated in our seats, stowing my pack in the overhead compartment, turning my phone to airplane mode, finding both ends of the seatbelt.

My ears tuned in at — “NO! You listen to me!”

His angry voice rose above the murmur of the other passengers who were doing the same things I had been doing.

The flight attendant, a neatly-groomed small-framed man who spoke excellent English with only a trace of a French accent, remained calm. “Sir,” he said, “I’m trying to explain.”

The passenger interrupted. “I’m paying your salary,” he bellowed. “You need to do what I say.”

“Please listen to me,” the flight attendant said. I was amazed at how unrattled he was by the confrontation. “I cannot give you two pillows right now –”

“I need to be comfortable on this flight!” the man interrupted with another bellow.

“Sir,” the flight attendant began again, “if you will listen, I will explain.”

I looked out the window at the raining pouring down outside, wishing I could be almost anywhere but there, where the groundwork was being laid for the next ugly airline confrontation. Getting my phone out to record it didn’t cross my mind.

“As long as your explanation includes a second pillow — ” the man said, interrupting again.

“Yes, sir, I have to wait until everyone is seated. We have only enough pillowcases for the passengers on board,” the flight attendant said.

“Well, what’re THOSE?!” the man asked, pointing to a small pile of pillows in an overhead compartment across the aisle.

“Those are pillows without pillowcases,” the attendant said.

“Gimme one of ’em,” grumpy man demanded.

The flight attendant complied, repeating the fact that it did not have a pillowcase on it.

“See?” the man said snidely. “We found a peaceful solution.” His sarcasm cut rudely through his words.

As he plumped his pillows and settled into his seat, the flight attendant moved down the aisle to assist other passengers.

I sighed. It’s no wonder Americans have a bad name.

The plane was quickly prepared for take-off and didn’t linger long on the runway.

Once in the air, the man ahead of me signaled the flight attendant as he walked past. He beckoned him to lean close, so he wouldn’t have to yell, but I could still hear.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” he said. “I was out of line.”

“No problem, sir,” said the flight attendant.

Above the clouds, the rain was gone. The sun truly looked like a silver lining.

And the angry words were washed away in one man’s humility.

I more than survived the experience. In an unexpected twist, I was blessed by it.

 

 

 

photography · Travel

A Brief Recounting of Our Trip to France

Sally15 Comments

I confess — I had to look up the meaning of evanescent, this week’s photography challenge. It means “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”

That’s describes my trip to France, I thought.

Life is already crowding out the moments I thought I would savor for a long time.

To hold onto the memories a little longer, I put together a two picture per day summary.

May 13 — Travel day

British Airways took very good care of us. At the urging of a friend, I upgraded both my father and my brother to each have a “Biz Bed”. Because we were traveling with someone who needed assistance (my father was in a wheelchair), we also got special treatment. I’m not exactly sure what all the little dots meant, but they were good. My brother and father got to eat in the British Airways lounge before the flight, while Bud and I had a quiet dinner in a little airport restaurant. 

It was pouring when we left Newark. This was my view out the window.

May 14 Arrive in France, make our way to Normandy

My sister and her husband met us at the airport.

When we finally arrived at Bayeux, we were tired and hungry. I had Croque Monsieur for the first time in my life at a little cafe a stone’s throw from our hotel.

May 15 Normandy

We loved everything about our hotel in Bayeux, the Villa Lara. This rabbit guarded the stairway door.

For our first day with our guide, he brought us to the Pegasus Bridge and the Canadian cemetery. Colin had so many stories to tell, but I think my favorite of all of them was here, of the bagpiper who played for the British troops.

May 16 Normandy

We had coffee every morning in a little sitting area off my sister’s room. I loved seeing the cathedral.

Among the places we visited this day was Sainte-Mère-Église where a paratrooper had gotten caught on the church steeple.

May 17 Normandy — then travel to Paris

The craters from the shelling at Omaha Beach were very impressive.

 

The view from a German bunker at Omaha Beach.

Then we drove to Paris.

May 18 Paris

We walked around Paris. Old and new stand side by side.

Dinner cruise on the Seine. The Eiffel Tower is pretty spectacular.

May 19 Paris

LaDuree — the macaroons are amazing.

Impressive art at the Petit Palais.

May 20 Travel day

The return trip. Waiting at the airport.

 

I’m easily amused. I thought “Salad Sauce” was funny. The flight home felt a thousand times longer — I looked for entertainment where I could find it.

May 21 Collapse

This was how we all felt the next day.

 

family · Travel

Anniversary

Sally30 Comments

Today marks 35 years of marriage.

As Bud would say, “Holy Cow-ser!”

My sister asked at the beginning of the trip if there was anything special we wanted to do, I said, “Bud and I would like a dinner together, just the two of us.”

It happens so rarely. Still.

On our last night in Paris, we had that just-the-two-of-us time. We talked about asking the concierge to recommend a nice restaurant. We talked about riding on the top of a double-decker bus and touring Paris. In the end, however, we went for a walk.

If I had to pick a metaphor for my life, it would be a walk. One foot in front of the other, over and over and over — sometimes stopping to savor a moment, sometimes ducking and running as a storm blows through, but mostly just walking.

I’m so glad I have a companion for the walk.

If I had to choose a metaphor for Bud’s life, it would be a car. On one of our first dates, we went to see “Coal Miner’s Daughter.” The line was long to get in, and wound out along the sidewalk. As we stood outside trying to make get-to-know-you small talk, Bud started talking about a car. I can still hear him — “It wasn’t really a car — it was a work of art.” He described its leather seats and fancy wheels, and I had barely any idea what he was talking about.

For Bud, automobiles are a combination of utility and beauty. Bud embodies that combination — he is the hardest working person I know but he also pauses to appreciate beauty.

That night in Paris, Bud and I walked down the Champs-Elysées. We stopped at the Peugeot store — yes, there were car storefronts — and while I admired the beautiful ocean-y color of the car, he looked at the specs.

Then we continued walking down. Down, down, down — past the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais.

Earlier in the day we had walked there with my family and toured the fine arts museum in the Petit Palais. The Louvre seemed overwhelming to get to and tour with my father, but this museum was perfect for us.

As Bud and I continued our walk, we found a large event occupying the space between us and Les Invalides. They were preparing for the Paris ePrix, a Formula-1 type race using electric cars.

We walked down pit road. Clusters of people spoke with drivers and I wondered which of these was the Dale Earnhart Jr of eFormula. Bud studied the cars.

Years ago, as our metaphors clashed and life’s bumpy road put stresses on us, we went to see a counselor.

“You two approach life very differently,” she observed, “but you make it work.”

And we do. Both. Approach life differently AND make it work.

Because marriage IS a lot of work.

But walking or driving — it’s worth it.

35 years ago I could not have imagined being in Paris with Bud, but this walk through Paris, admiring the beauty of cars, was the perfect way for us was to celebrate our anniversary.

Then…
… and now

 

Travel

O Canada

Sally5 Comments

On our first day of touring Normandy, our guide ended the day at the Canadian cemetery.

I can’t tell you how many times over the course of the day, as Colin told us stories of the D-Day invasion, focusing that first day on what the British and the Canadians were doing, I said, “Really?! I had no idea that the Canadians were here!”

I confess, I did NOT do my prep for this trip. I was so focused on getting my father there and thinking about the details of that, that I didn’t finish any reading on it. In all truth, I barely began the reading.

“Did you watch ‘Band of Brothers’?” Colin asked more than once.

Nope.

“Have you seen ‘The Longest Day’?” he asked.

Nope.

I probably made a pretty tough audience.

“Just focus on him,” I told Colin, indicating my father. The rest of us — we were just filler.

Colin, my father, Bud

But yes, our lovable neighbor to the north — the most kind, friendly, big-brotherly people — the ones who, in the course of our vitriolic election, let us know that they think we’re great  — those guys fought in World War II for the Allies. They took Juno Beach on D Day.

While I was still trying to wrap my mind around that, Colin brought us to the Canadian cemetery.

Military cemeteries are sobering places. France donated the land to all the countries for their cemeteries, even the Germans.

I heard a couple discussing that fact — and the husband said, “The French don’t hold grudges.”

But Canada’s was the first we visited — and I watched my sister wipe tears from her eyes. I watched through the fogginess of my own.

The Canadian cemetery

Rows of stones with names and ranks and divisions and dates of death etched below the maple leaf that decorated each one. Some families had other words, often about self-sacrifice, engraved as well. The Canadian government made the provision for families to do that.

The grounds were so beautifully tended. Wisteria climbed the arches near the entrance. A variety of flowers  bloomed between the stones.

Wisteria

Visitors left small tokens. Pebbles on the tops of Jewish soldiers graves – to signify the permanence of their memories. Loonies and other coins on the tops of others. Paper poppies and wreaths at the center cross.

Someone’s small remembrance

Our heritage, our freedom, rested on the backs of these brave young men.

It’s a debt that can never be repaid.

All we can do is remember.

And whisper a little “thank you.”

Traffic
Travel

Traffic

Sally1 Comment

Four or five semi-concentric lanes of traffic circle the Arc de Triomphe. Messy circles. With vehicles moving in and out of these undefined lanes with alacrity.

It’s a roundabout on steroids.​

​The first time we drove through it, I was utterly terrified. I was ready to take back every nice thing I ever said about French drivers.

Walking around it, I looked at the maze of vehicles and thought it looked like an impossible knot. Yet, cars weave in and out, threading their way through, with motorcycles zooming past into ridiculously tight space, and buses zooming right along with them.

It’s a crazy place.

Last night my brother asked our driver what the record was for number of times around the Arc de Triomphe without an accident. The driver didn’t answer. My brother-in-law began making up rules for such a contest.

“You’d have to change lanes each time around,” he said.

When they were talking later about the Tour de France ending at the Arc de Triomphe, I thought they were kidding. Shows how much I know.

But I guess it wouldn’t be such a bad place if you removed all the cars.

Paris, your drivers are amazing to navigate such a place! 

But give me Normandy — with its cows and fields and lush greenery and slow pace of life — and I will quite content.

Travel

Omaha Beach

Sally2 Comments

American sons
Against impossible odds
Normandy courage


It hit me when I was looking through my pictures that I didn’t take a single shot of the American cemetery in Normandy.

Rows and rows and rows of graves.

To pause with my phone was the farthest thing from my mind, especially after our guide had told us so many stories of heroism.

Travel

Bayeux

Sally2 Comments

When our guide suggested that we make Bayeux our home base, he gave us a beautiful gift. I can’t imagine staying in a more perfect place.

The town was largely untouched by World War 2 because the Germans had pulled their troops from there to fortify another town that they thought the Allies would head for. The Allies were able to occupy Bayeux without a battle.

I could write about the Bayeux tapestry — a nearly 1000 year old graphic story embroidered on linen. It tells the story of William the Conqueror and it’s amazing.

I could write about the cathedral which has become my guidepost, its spires visible from anywhere in the town. I get always my bearings from it when I’m out walking and can find my way home. It’s lovely.


I could write about the food — oh wait — I already did. Let me say that a croissant in the USA and a French croissant are not the same.  The last two days I’ve Camembert cheese and baguette for lunch, and I can’t imagine more satisfying fare. Our multi course dinners at night have been delightful. In short, I finally understand the stir about French cuisine.

But really, it’s the people. I don’t know that I could adequately describe their warmth and friendliness. 

From Louis who first greeted us when we arrived at our hotel, the Villa Lara. So polite and courteous.

To Laura who answers all our crazy American questions and fairly glows when she talks about this area, her home. “I love where I live,” she said to me yesterday. It shows — and I understand because I too love where I live.

To the young woman at the Patisserie yesterday who struggled to explain one of the delicacies in the display case. She held up one finger, indicating that we wait. Then she pulled a little book from under the counter and looked up the word for cinnamon so we could understand. So sweet. So patient.

I could go on and on.

Bayeux has worked its way into my heart in a very short time.

Travel

Patience

Sally4 Comments

I had thought about a lot of aspects of visiting another country. New sights, new smells, new foods.

Speaking of food, I ate rabbit last night. Apologies to the Rabbit Room crowd if that is sacrilegious, but I felt like I needed to have as many new experiences as possible. I couldn’t bring myself to try escargot so I opted for le lapin.What I hadn’t expected was the traffic. 

Traffic may not even be the right word.

The streets are narrow. Many times they are only wide enough for one car. 

And the streets aren’t one way.

Picture that in New Jersey. I can hear it in my imagination more than see it. Horns would be blaring. People would be shouting. And gesturing.

In Bayeux, people are patient.

And courteous.

I heard a horn beeping this morning, only the second car horn I’ve heard in France. It turns out that it was a car alarm.

The drivers here show uncommon patience.

I’ll miss it when I get back to New York.

Posting from my phone. Please excuse typos. 

family · Travel

Travel

Sally21 Comments

I suppose this doesn’t look like a terribly dangerous picture, but I still get that squeezy feeling in my stomach when I look at it.

This was from the last overseas trip my parents took together. Nine years ago they went on a tour of Greece and Macedonia — I think it was called something like, “Footsteps of Paul.”

My father had been so excited about this trip. He had ordered all the books and done the recommended reading.

My mother, however, was declining in her mental capacity.  At first, my father was in denial about that. Little things are easy to excuse. As the trip grew closer, it became more and more undeniable. I wrote a post several years ago about that trip and called it “Scary Travels With Alzheimer’s.”

But there she is, in the picture above, smiling, because she has no clue how close she will come to being lost in Greece. (She wandered out of the hotel room without my father but was seen by other members of the tour and kept safe.)

After that trip, my father said their traveling days were over.

Now we’re preparing to take him on a trip. For years he has talked about wanting to go to Normandy to see the beaches of the D-Day invasion. Every time one of his friends came back from Normandy, he would smile and shake his head sadly, saying, “I’d really like to get there someday.”

When my mother was still alive, he wouldn’t leave her. Then his own health issues overlapped with her final days. It’s been a tough go.

So we (my siblings and I) decided it was now or never. We’re going to Normandy. We’ve arranged for a private guide so everything can be done at my father’s pace. We’ll see the beaches and hear the stories, then we’ll spend a few days in Paris.

Yes, danger — on so many levels and so many fronts.

I’m praying it all goes well.

photography · Travel

Whytecliffe Park

Sally2 Comments

Come sit with me on this rocky ledge
And gaze into the bay
Water greengrayblueandwhite
Splash-splash-crash and spray

I had read to watch for seals that frolic in Horseshoe Bay at Whytecliffe Park near Vancouver, British Columbia. Still, it was a pleasant surprise.

Even without the frolicking seal, I could have sat by the water all day.