A family vacation in a foreign country can open your hearts and minds to the wonders of another culture, while drawing you closer to each other.
Okay, it’s true. We’re on vacation... again.
In fact, we’re in Paris!
C’est magnifique.
Why, given the economy in general and my lack of employment in particular, are we out on the road again? (Technically speaking, we did not drive to Paris. But you know what I mean.)
We are in Paris because the world is a wondrous place and it is worth stretching ourselves a bit to see it (in my humble opinion.)
We are in Paris because my seventy-three-year-old mother has wanted to get back to France for the past several years, to retrace her father’s steps when he served in the 51st Pioneer Infantry in World War I.
We are in Paris because my children are entering puberty and I am in the midst of perimenopause and for whatever hormone-induced reason, we seem to do better when we travel.
Something about a moving target...
We are in Paris because I have been trying to teach my children to live their lives believing in the infinite abundance of the universe; it was time to put up or shut up.
So, here we are. We’ve rented an apartment in the 7th arrondissement with an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower. We are stuffing ourselves with baguettes and croissants and éclairs.
We are speaking French.
Just kidding.
We are trying to be polite, cheerful and enlightened ambassadors of our country. We remember to say Bonjour, and Merci.
The boys have tried croque-monsieur (not their favorite), crepes chocolat and escargot.
My sons like snails, how cool is that!
We are learning to pay for our croissants and museum passes and bus rides in euros. I am taking deep, calming breaths every time I mentally translate my euros into US currency.
“Twelve dollars for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s? No more ice cream until we go home!”
Oops. I am trusting in the abundance of the universe.
I am relaxing, and enjoying each moment of our time together.
And here in Paris, more than three thousand miles from home, we are connecting. Ahhhh. Family vacations.
The other day, my older son and I walked to the neighborhood market. We passed several local residents, walking home with their fresh baguettes clutched in their hands, just in time for dinner.
When we finished our shopping, he insisted on carrying our baguette, just as he had seen the Parisians do themselves.
He was smiling, enjoying the feeling of being somewhere new. Trying something new. Feeling a little grown-up and sophisticated.
I was smiling myself, walking next to my beautiful son. The one with whom I’ve had so many trying moments over the past year.
Thank You God, for this moment.
Today, on our way home from Notre Dame, we stopped at a tabac – a combination newsstand / cigarette / souvenir shop – to buy some drinks and a packet of bus tickets (we’ve learned to call this a carnet).
The store was tiny and crowded, with just enough space to push your way past the display cases to the cash register in back. As I approached the shop keeper, I heard a whisper of noise behind me.
I turned, just in time to see about a hundred miniature Eiffel Towers tumble from a shelf onto the floor.
They were made out of metal and had been stacked one on top of the other. As each one hit the floor, it made a little pinging sound.
Row upon row, tipping in slow motion, then diving to bounce off the tile.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
For a split second, you thought it was over. No, there were fifty more, on their way down.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
It was like watching a scene from some television sitcom. If I Love Lucy had ever gone to Paris, this is what would have happened. (Did she go to Paris??)
I peeled my hands away from my face and looked at my son, standing motionless next to the shelf. He had half a dozen Eiffel Towers of varying sizes clutched in his arms. His expression was priceless.
“I didn’t touch them Mom, honest. I didn’t touch anything.”
Well, except for the ones you caught in mid-air.
As we all stood there, momentarily frozen in place, I could almost feel the wave of grace sweeping through.
The shop keeper – wonderful, patient, graceful man – simply grabbed his push broom and swept the pile of Eiffel Towers into the corner.
“Ce n'est pas de probleme. Non probleme.”
We will have to buy something at this little shop every day for the rest of our trip.
My son, who has been unable to laugh at himself since the fifth grade, was laughing all the way back to our apartment. I laughed with him.
Thank You God, for this strange, ridiculous, perfect moment.
I recently wrote that conscious parenting was about slowing down and living in the moment; about finding the grace in every experience; and about feeling gratitude for all the mysterious gifts that make up a lifetime.
Such has been our time in Paris.
Tomorrow, we head into the countryside. We will be crossing Picardy, Champagne and Lorraine as we search out the places my grandfather experienced so many years ago.
I fully expect to have an awesome, grace-filled day blessed with many perfect moments.
We’ll just keep a respectful distance from the souvenir shops.
Recommended Reading:
To find a little grace in your parenting today, read a page or two from Everyday Blessings: The Inner Work of Mindful Parenting, by Myla Kabat-zinn and Jon Kabat-zinn. It is lovely.
Trying to picture your own kids in Paris? Start planning your next great family vacation with Fodor's Around Paris with Kids, 3rd Edition: 68 Great Things to Do Together.
I’m reading it right now, and I'm already here!
Related Posts:
Are you preparing for your own family vacation? You might find some helpful tips in, My Top 12 Tips for Traveling with Kids on Planes; and Happy Flights: Avoiding Airplane Ear Pain.
Keeping with our family travel theme, I hope you will enjoy, The Importance of Family Vacations.
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