The Louvre, The Tower, and the Passage of Time

Dear Sofie,

It is almost 2am in the morning of the day we return home. You and Eric are asleep and I am hearing the noises of Paris closing down for the night after hours of revelry. The music in the nearby cafes have stopped and I hear the voices of the staff as they move furniture in to the building. I believe our neighbours, for the most part, are settling in for the night. I am alone in the living room of our flat and I feel tired, happy, melancholy and relieved. I am tired because I believe that Paris, with its stairs and cobblestones and cobblestones with stairs, is actually trying to kill me. I am happy because we are safe and we have spent some amazing time together as a trio. I am relieved because Eric and I have not accidentally killed you with peanuts.

That was our biggest stress to be sure. We have been researching on the web for months for advice and direction about how to handle a peanut allergy in Paris and the best we could really come up with was a general tone of “Good luck. But you’re screwed!”. In the end, it wasn’t so bad. Eric’s firm warning about the need for diligence supported by my hairy eyeball probably helped a bit, but it was your leadership about it that made it happen. It was easier to feed you than I thought it would be. And you’re not dead. A total win-win!

Yesterday we went to the Louvre. You were a little gobsmacked by the size of the building for sure. And you loved the inverted pyramid in the reception area. I can’t wait until you see the move The Da Vinci Code.

We hoofed our way to the Mona Lisa immediately upon entry, passing many annoyed visitors who wondered if we were insane. As we zoomed by the statue of Nike of Samothrace on the top of a stair case I frantically waved my arms towards yelling out something like “That’sWIngedVictoryandsheistheinspriationfortheNikeswooshonrunningshoesbutmoreonthatlaterohlookpaintingsbyTitian!” God love your blessed little butt as you kept up the pace.

We reached the room with the Mona Lisa and the crowds still hadn’t become too large so you were able to find a spot for your photo. I am not a fan of this painting. I think what really makes it famous today is that it is famous. I believe it is a masterpiece, but no more that countless other masterpieces that deserve more air time. But you were thrilled. So much so that I kind of liked old Mona a little more than  I used to. She is still over exposed in pop culture, but she makes you happy. So that makes her okay in my book.

We spent the next three hours or so exploring Italian masters, ancient Greek and Roman sculpture and ancient Egyptian artifacts. We talked of Caravaggio and his penchant for controversy and why picturing the Virgin Mary as a fat dead corpse was an issue for the Church at the time, we discussed the poignancy of Eros and Psyche as a symbol of the heart and brain being a union that produces harmony, and how viewing a mummy may be educational, but it is also important to remember that this was a human being who loved and was loved just like us. You recognised your old friend David and his foe Goliath and you made connections between paintings, common elements, all on your own. We agreed that you were already well versed in the fundamentals of art.

After the Louvre we walked over to Cathedral Notre Dame. We walked over because Eric insisted that it was in the neighbourhood. It was not. Unless a neighbourhood is defined by an hour walk at a brisk pace. After our Death March we found ourselves at the great cathedral and you were clearly awestruck. As we waited in line I was considering a lecture on flying buttresses and the development of the arch but decided against it. When I was beginning my favourite discussion about earth and sky and balance back at the Louvre your eyes glazed over and drifted away to another painting whereupon you pointed and said “Oh look! A pooch!”. Clearly my skills as an educator were only required in a limited capacity.

You were quiet in the church. So much so that we thought you were uncomfortable or bored. But you assured us that you were just soaking it all in. When Eric indicated he was going up to light a candle for his grandmother you asked why. He explained that doing this was important to her so it was important to him. You reached into your purse and took out some coins “I want to help pay the two Euros for the candle. I want to be a good person. Besides, l like grandmothers.”

After Notre Dame we took the metro to Angelina’s, a restaurant in the style of the 17^th century salons that specializes in chocolate. And it is completely nut free. We ate Madeleines and drank warm drinking chocolate and I thought my nose bleed all over the table cloth. It was awesome. You were thrilled at the possibilities but I believe you were a little overwhelmed at the rich taste of these items.

Watching you at the table, Eric and I knew you were enjoying your trip. But we also knew you were almost completely done. I sure a heck knew I was completely done. We postponed our visit to the Eiffel Tower and decided to go home and have an early night. When you enthusiastically agreed we knew we had made the right decision.

That night you made us a dinner of butter shrimp and pasta with cherry tomatos which we ate with gusto. Then we called you folks and talked for a while.

The three of us lounging on that couch in that small flat was a moment I will never forget. When you are with the ones you love, it is easy to make any strange apartment a home.

Your last full day in Paris was a bit more easygoing. We spent some time in our neighbourhood of Montmartre to do some shopping and to have a casual lunch. Then we headed over to the Eiffel Tower while the weather held out for us.

To say that you were excited to finally see the Eiffel Tower, the one thing you spoke most of regarding Paris, is a gross understatement. I have never seen anyone hop up and down in a line like you did. And I accompanied Eric when he went to Dollywood!

We contacted your folks and we had a brief chat while waiting. It passed the time and it managed to focus you. I could tell that you were so happy to share this event with your parents. Then we showed you Duran Duran’s music video of A View To A Kill which features the Eiffel Tower. You were not impressed. Although you did like Grace Jones jumping off the tower and parachuting away.

By the time we got to the front of the line the summit of the tower was closed so we had to settle for the elevator ride up halfway. We enjoyed a beautiful view of the city and simply wandered in a giant circle enjoying ourselves on the tower. By the time we made our way down the stairs the skies had opened up and the rains poured forth. We took a cab to where we wanted to have dinner, but realised we had no cash. Thanks for the loan there, Sofie. We appreciate your help, but we cannot help but feel that this may have been a moment of parental failure.

We had fancy pizza in a fancy restaurant and you tried a whole bunch of different things because you are brave. You protested, constantly, the fact that you had to use a knife and fork for your pizza because you are twelve. Nevertheless you rallied and ate most of your food. Eric and I were really impressed. Then we spent the remainder of the night in the Latin Quarter walking through old, narrow streets and by revelers enjoying various foods, piano bars and jazz clubs. We checked around for last minute souvenirs and then we went home to pack.

There was so much more we wanted to show you, Sofie. There was Wall of Love, the Opera House and a true fromagerie. We wanted you to see remains of a Roman arena that dated back to the time when Paris was still called Lutetia. We would have liked to have shown you the Catacombs and Pere Lachaisse  and the biggest and oldest English bookstore in Paris. We wanted to show you the site of the Bastille and explain to you its relevance. We wanted you to spend more time on patios watching Parisiens live and love in their city of lights.

Ah time. Sofie, you seem to have so much of it now, but it is fleeting. One minute you are watching a new born child focus on a dining room light because its bright and shiny, the next moment you are watching this same child teeter on the edge of adulthood as she determines how we are going to travel through the metro today.

We have tried to teach you to read the universal signs found in all subway maps. We have also tried to help you learn how to use a money belt, stay aware and secure but not afraid, to read the language of paintings, to appreciate the value in old things, and to eat fancy pizza in a fancy restaurant. I hope we weren’t too much…too bothersome…too…teachy.

But, Sofie, you should know this. We learned from you too. You taught us to trust you when it came to your knowledge about your health and safety. You taught us that you are patient and will let us know when you are becoming too tired. You also taught us that just because you look away and point at things, it doesn’t always mean you aren’t listening. Finally, you taught us that the girl you have been is slowing stepping back to let the young woman emerge.

I find this last lesson a hard one. I am not ready to fully release the little girl in you. I know you aren’t ready yet either so all is okay, for now. But the time is coming. I know this. And, Sofie, I am not ready. I never will be. But I promise you this at least: I will welcome the young woman as fully and as wholly as I welcomed the new born. With all of my heart.

In the meantime, as we return home to Canada I will look forward to a few more years of counting pigeons and welcoming new things with the gentle soul of innocence.

Art, Arch and the Seine

Dear Sofie,

Your first breakfast in Paris consisted of two croissants and a variety of macaroons. I am pretty sure this is considered a parenting fail, but whatever. We managed to find a nearby bakery that promised a peanut free environment. I was dubious, but you seemed comfortable with the odds, and I was told to trust you, so off you went. I believe your biggest thrill was paying in coins with the machine in front of the cashier. You carefully inserted your payment and squealed a tiny bit when the change came pouring out.

“Cool!”

You were on your second macaroon before we were ten metres away. I asked, in as casual a voice as I could muster, how long it usually took you to react when dealing with peanuts.

“Almost immediately,” you shrugged. Then you walked towards the entrance to the metro. I decided not to insist on bringing out the epi pen.

Your first art stop was L’Orangerie to visit the famous Monet installation. The building itself was designed to protect an orange grove, but the trees are long gone now and in its place is a gift to a World War I weary city in need of a place of quiet reflection. Monet was inspired by his garden and we worked diligently on this piece as his eyes continued to fail him. We can see the approaching darkness in the work. You would later recall how the work was unfinished in places, the canvass laid bare for all to see.

We journeyed next to the Museé D’Orsay and you were immediately enthralled by the massive space and beautiful architecture of the place. We explained at how it used to be a train station and you said you could recognise it as such. But you were totally taken aback at the amount of work and effort was put into “just a train station”. We explained about the first impressions a city wants to make on visitors; about point of pride and a demonstration of grandeur. But this was a foreign concept to you. You were baffled that so much art and love could be found in a public building.

We walked through the forest of sculptures and I introduced you to David and Goliath and Artemis and Acteon and wise old blind Oedipus and his daughter Elektra. We looked at paintings with rich, deep tones and imagery born of old stories. You compared the brush strokes of Van Gogh with those of Monet that you saw earlier in the day.

But throughout the visit you kept your eye on the large clock that dominated the building. You were clearly enamoured with it. You spoke of its beauty and its immensity and wondered how one would wind it.

After a lunch in which you were introduced to escargots still in the shell and the origin of the snotty French waiter concept, we went to the Arc du Triumph. After climbing the stairs to the top I knew I had done some damage almost immediately. I am too old and too fat for this kind of experience! We must have been up there for about an hour looking around at the city. As we looked down at the Champs Elysees we spoke about Hitler and du Gaul and the wealthy and visual connection between this site and the Louvre and the financial district .

And we watched the frenetic traffic below as the cars encircled us and miraculously nobody was killed.

On our way home you helped us find groceries for dinner and worked the machine that pressed fresh oranges for us for juice in the morning.  We arrived back in the flat and I cooked you a creamy salmon dish and we ate around that tiny counter perched upon those impossibly high chairs. The three of us, tired from our journey, ate and spoke quietly.

I suppose I should tell you this secret now, Sofie. Eric and I have been told we are quite generous to bring you to this wonderful city. But the truth of it all is this: it is actually quite selfish of us. The universe unfolded in such a way that we were not able to have our own children. This is a painful and sad story that can be told another day in the far future. But suffice to say we were disappointed. Luckily for us, your parent had you and your sister. And twelve years later  we cannot imagine our lives without you two. It’s like you been with us forever. This trip, was our opportunity to show you the world, not only as a traveler, but as we see it as travelers. The generous ones were not us, my dear. It was your parents for allowing us the honour and opportunity to take you.

Watching you today and seeing your eyes light up was pure gold for us.

We ended the day with an evening cruise on the Seine where you saw many of the highlights of the city. We met some friends of Eric and they joined us. I was impressed with how easy going you were. You engaged in conversation willingly and made a real effort to make them feel welcome in our little group. This is further proof that you are no longer a child.

We came home really late after a post-tour coffee with our friends and the longest flight of stairs in metro history. Also, we had to stop for another drink so you could use the bathroom. At 1pm we insisted you call home and you told your parents everything that had happened since.

I felt bad for your folks being so far away from you. But I also felt grateful to them for letting us spirit you away on this adventure. As you went to bed to sleep the sleep of the innocent I felt happy. But I also felt a little sad because the day we would return you to the arms of your parents was approaching fast.

The Return to Paris, The Safe Space, and The New Traveler

Dear Sofie,

A few years ago you were asked to express a situation that would reduce your anxiety; a scenario that would bring you a sense of safety. You answered: “Being in Paris with my uncles.” As we were not present with you at this moment, and had never discussed travelling, France or Paris with you in any real sense, we, along with your parents, thought that this was both lovely and interesting. But it was also the beginning of this journey.

Paris is a beautiful city, with its halls of art and its winding streets full of bustling cars and old boxes nailed to a wall following the shore of the Seine full of used books. It is gracious in its old age, even as it strained under the pressure of volatile politics and urban decay. It has unidentifiable smells that assault your senses that are mingled with cigarette smoke and wafts of baking brioche. Paris is harsh as well as genteel; aggressive while maintaining a suave regard for it inhabitants. Paris is a passionate city that presents itself to you with the understanding that you must feel gratitude for her gifts.

And you do.

This is not our first trip to Paris. We first came here for a short trip in 2006 for our honeymoon. I have returned once with students for a week-long stay and Eric has led groups here twice with three weeks to discover the city. While I am aware of the many things to see and experience here, Eric is the expert when it comes to directions and navigating the labyrinthine tunnels of the Metropolitaine.  Oh, we have both seen Paris and experienced her challenges and gifts, but we have never travelled with a young person before. This was a whole new game for your uncles, my dear Sofie. Our comfort with travelling was compromised. Our easy way of being travelling companions, long established and perfected, has been compromised. I admit, it is both exciting and daunting.

We are staying in Montmartre. Our immediate neighbourhood, nestled within the shadow of Cathedrale Sacre Coeur, is relatively quiet and hilly. Our flat is too flights up and very small. But we have two distinct rooms and a kitchen with a stove and a fridge. We are blessed even though our bathroom is right off the kitchen and seems to amplify any natural noises that occur when participating in typical bathroom activities.

“It’s a little embarrassing,” you state quietly, “But we’re all friends here, I guess.”

Our first day we force you to stay awake so that you can readjust to the new time zone. You don’t complain, but we watch you wilt as the day progresses. We are not far behind you. I am ready to fall over. We take you to Sacre Coeur and its surrounding streets lined with artists and souvenir shops. We hint at the artists and their paints ready to take our portrait together, but you are uninterested. Instead you count pigeons, poke around shops, and take delight in the funicular and the ancient carousel. We offer you a ride and you shyly refuse. Eric and I look at each other. We will need to adapt our expectations as you negotiate childhood delight and a growing sense of self. It makes me sad to see you refuse abandon, but I understand the drive to move toward what you think adulthood should look and feel like.

We find a store with macaroons and we ask if it is safe for you to have them with your peanut allergy. No. We ask another place to the same question with the same answer. And then another. And another. As you remain philosophical, I get annoyed and speak against an uncaring world while Eric determines it to be his mission to find you a macaroon that won’t kill you. We are your defenders! And I believe that you are amused by us even as you skip along the cobblestone streets and count pigeons.