America the Beautiful.

We are now back in our California bubble.  I had two more posts in process that I didn’t get a chance to upload before we departed.  So, I’ll finish out my Paris blog with this post, and then a final little ditty about all of our restaurant experiences (yes, I kept a record of each one).    After that, I have some ideas for another blog and I hope you’ll give it a read now and then.   So, please stay tuned.

July 2016

I vacillate over which scary news item du jour should be freaking me out the most.  Usually, it is the seemingly endless antics of those wild and crazy terrorists.   Just when I’m getting myself worked into a frenzy, another gun violence headline will dominate the US news, and I’m reminded of how tenuous things are back home.    It’s hard to know when it’s safe to feel happy.   Probably never.  In the meantime, we still have Europe for a little while longer.   We plan to enjoy the ride to the very end, even with all the background noise.   So, Greece.

Back in 1982, a movie called “Summer Lovers” was playing in the theaters.   It was about a couple of college students spending a summer in Santorini, Greece.   They eventually meet a beautiful French girl, and all kinds of sexual shenanigans transpire.  It featured a young Daryl Hannah in one of the lead roles, and was lambasted by movie critics.   It was not a cinematic masterpiece by any stretch of the imagination.  However, I’m not ashamed to admit that I loved it.   I was 19 years old, living in New Jersey, waiting for my life to start, and this movie represented a whole sunlit world to be explored.
 

White washed, blue domed houses tucked into picturesque villages, magical caldera views, sandy beaches along the azure Aegean sea, donkeys wandering on cobblestone alleyways.   Just imagine the emoticons, had that existed in 1982.   Anyway, this silly movie elevated Greece to a spot on my foreign travel to do list.    It did not disappoint.  

We started in Athens with the requisite Acropolis visit and also a food tour.  Our guide was a woman named Despina who took us to the “real Athens”, and had a habit of randomly stuffing exotic culinary delights into our unsuspecting mouths.  Spanakopita and souvlaki, baked feta with honey and sesame seeds, greek yogurt with fresh cherries, syrupy loukoumades.  What else needs to be said?

Dinner at Strofi.

View from the Acropolis.

The meat and fish market - not a favorite place for the vegetarian.

Next, we spent a few days in Santorini.  I’m not an accomplished enough wordsmith to accurately describe just how spectacular this place is, so I’ll just show the pictures. 

After Santorini, we took the ferry to Naxos and spent several days soaking up the sun.  The beaches are clothing optional.   I’m all about respecting local traditions, so I was ready to bare all (at a safe distance from embarrassing my daughters, naturally).  However, our friendly hotel bartender, Costas, informed us that the Greeks don’t do this so much.  The nude people you see, he says, are foreigners.   Gosh, I hate looking like a tourist, so I kept my bikini on.  It was trippy though, strolling the beach with the girls, casually passing nude people of all shapes, sizes, and genders.   “It would be fine if they at least had good bodies”, astutely observes one daughter.

Scenes from Naxos . . .

 In our desire to make their final week in France somewhat productive, we convinced the girls to do an immersion program.  They each spent a week living with a French family, in the little town of Gap, about 500 miles from Paris.   The families had kids their ages, but no English was spoken.  Early reports from the front lines were mixed.  “I am so that weird exchange student right now.  We’re all just sitting here and no one is saying anything”, read one text.   Another says, “I can’t remember my grammar, so I’m just spitting out random French words.”   The final verdict on the experience?  I can’t speak for them, but lets just say it’s yet another page for their life story. 

Allie and her host.

I’d like to return the favor and host our own foreign students at some point.   We certainly meet lots of people wanting to visit the United States.   The security guard at our local market perked up when he learned we’re American.  He really wants to visit.  I tell him he should.  He says, “you need to invite me.”   We go back and forth in this vein for a bit.   It finally occurred to me that whatever identification he has, it is not the same as my slick little blue US passport, that allows me smooth entry into so many places.   I may not even fully comprehend how lucky I am to have this. 

La Fête Nationale (Bastille Day) celebration . . .

Advantages of nationality aside, America’s virtues are distinctive and I’ve come to appreciate them more then I ever did.   Our music?  It is absolutely everywhere!   It’s so preferred here in France, that there is a law mandating that at least 40 percent of the songs played on the radio must be in French.   Our popular culture?  Fuhgettaboutit!  What I used to characterize as cheap and cheesy, I now find unique and quirky.   It’s so comforting when you can find common ground with someone over the phrase “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!”   So, we may not have centuries of history on every street corner, but we do have The Brady Bunch.   

And finally, at the risk of embarrassing myself, there is Starbucks.   Dismiss this if you will, call me a shameless consumer, fine.  But let me tell you, when you’re in a foreign land and feeling out of sorts, that familiar Starbucks logo is a fucking beacon of hope.   Obviously, there is much more depth to America than bad 70s sitcoms and chain stores.  My point is, being grounded in the culture of your country, no matter how trite it may seem to others, is such a wonderful feeling.   

As for France, we did our best to respect this beautiful country's culture this past year.  We really did.  We developed a love of their wines and, for me in particular, a genuine appreciation for their art of dining.  No four hour lunch was EVER wasted on me.  Huge gratitude to those waiters who ceremoniously avoided giving us l'addition in a timely fashion.

We tried to learn French from the always patient, forever kind, Isabelle.  At the end, she became more friend then teacher.  There will always be a place in our home for her should she ever visit us.

A good-bye lunch with the lovely Isabelle.

We squeezed in a few more must-do-before-we-leave-France activities as well.   Jim conquered the haphazard Parisian traffic circles - even driving around the Arc de Triomphe a few times.  This is the only place in Paris where if there's an accident, the insurance companies consider all drivers at fault, no matter the circumstances.   It's that chaotic.

Approaching the circle . . .

We actually purchased something at the well renowned flea market, Les Puces de Saint-Quen.   A little bit of French history in the form of an old carnival poster.  There is a spot on our living room wall that will do it proud, and will be a daily reminder of our time in Paris.

Just before we left,  we got in a visit to the iconic Ritz Paris - the lavishly beautiful hotel where Coco Chanel lived for 34 years.  It had been closed for a 4-year, $200 million renovation, and re-opened just before we left.  We had obscenely expensive cocktails at the famed Hemingway Bar (they frown upon photos, sorry, we had to).   This particular bar is also known for having one of the most expensive cocktails in the world: the Sidecar, priced at a smooth $1500 (we didn't order that).  Apparently, it is made with champagne Cognaq that was bottled in the 1800s, and saved by German soldiers during the occupation.  So, there's that little tidbit.

Tina and I at The Hemingway Bar.  Tina is the originator of the "WTF" phrase used in a prior post.

Our adventure is coming to a close.  I managed to pack up our belongings and send them on their way with minimal bureaucratic difficulty this time.   As I write this, the dog has also just been whisked away.  She will arrive on our home turf before us, with her own slick blue puppy passport.   We're not certain she even realizes she's been gone, but we know how lucky we all are to be able to go home to the United States.

 à bientôt!