Thursday, July 24th.  Our LAST DAY TOGETHER in Europe.  24 hours later, I would fly from London to Glasgow to meet up with my dad and friends for a week of WATCHING them play golf.  And LouAnn and the kids would pack up and fly home to Texas.  So how to squeeze the most out of the day?  When the travel-weary momentum was already carrying us down the homeward hill?

We started – here’s a shocker – by sleeping later than we intended to.  The first order of business was to witness the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.  In the blazing (well, for the UK it was blazing) heat.  By the time we got to the Palace, the crowd was 10 deep at the gates and the Changing was still 20 minutes off.  And it was the last day of the trip.  Needless to say, the standard deviation of our enthusiasm within the family was LARGE.  But we all had fun.  I cracked jokes nonstop to keep Jack giggling and made fun of the other tourists, while LouAnn, Ellis, and Georgia earnestly struggled to acquire a good view of the proceedings.  I have to say that some of the air gets let out of the regal Queen’s Guard balloon when you see so many REAL guards standing around with machine guns.  Climb up on the fence to get a better look and it’s THOSE guys who yell at you to get down, not the guys with giant black muffs on their heads.  The Changing itself was confusing.  Did the guards out front ever actually change?  There seemed to be a lot of extra guards marching around, a lot of guys marching in LATE, heavy stomping in seemingly-random diagonals…..

From the Palace, we made our way to lunch – this time down a hidden alley at an actual BURRITO restaurant.  Think Chipotle with a  London twist.  This neat little alley was straight out of the first Harry Potter movie – what was that alley?  ANYWAYS, this was Harry Potter’s alley.  With a burrito joint.

Five days in London, and we hadn’t GLIMPSED Big Ben, Parliament, or Westminster Abbey.  So off we went.  Westminster Abbey was fascinating.  SO many famous dead people buried RIGHT THERE.  Kings and Queens, poets, authors, statesmen; surely some of them must be buried upright, given the limited space.  At least we spent TIME in Westminster; Big Ben got barely a nod.  This group was ready to move on, but it was a CONTENT readiness.  A kind of sleepy, road-weary satisfaction with a summer well-spent.

That night’s show – the fourth in four nights – was the stage adaptation of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory.  How fun!  Parts of it were brilliant – (the staging, Charlie, the scenes where each of the other four kids were identified on TV), and parts of it were very UN-remarkable (Willy Wonka!, the whole second act…)  I loved the discussion we had afterwards.  Our theater kids picked up on ALL of it.  They were amazed, critical, discerning, thoughtful…..

The final night!  We made our way (how many TIMES in this blog have I written, “made our way”?) back to 34 Lancaster Gate for the last time.  The rest of our final night together was rather un-ceremonial.  We did nothing to truly MARK the end of these two incredible months; but perhaps we had been honoring it all along.  Packing of bags, the struggle to stuff WAY too much into bags.  The effort to leave the apartment SOMEWHAT in one piece.  We fell into bed as we did EVERY night – exhausted.

This trip cost a lot of money.  And I never regretted a CENT.  We had acquired things money can’t buy.  Unity.  Patience.  Endurance.  Empathy.  Joy.  Laughter.  Recognition of beauty.  Appreciation for it.  Flexibility.  I saw in each of these four incredible people things I had never seen before.  We all matured, in different ways.  We drove foundation pilings deep into bedrock, creating memories that will be with us forever.  We all gained a deeper appreciation for the breadth and majesty of our creative God, and by knowing Him better, we came away knowing ourselves a bit better.  What a privilege!

Are they really CHANGING?

LouAnn’s a TROOPER.  But haven’t we learned that by now?

Harry Potter’s alley!

London burritos!

Look kids – Big Ben!

Jack’s “incredulous” face.  This is usually associated with some completely unreasonable request from his parents.

A day of rest, a quiet day, with no real sightseeing….

We had a lazy start to the day, eventually making our way across the street to Kensington Gardens for a picnic.  We lounged on our blanket in the shade, had lunch, pretended to read, and RESTED.  We played cards.  The kids attempted skateboard tricks.  The “winding down” of the trip could certainly be felt, and we were content to take it easy.  We tried renting bikes, but they proved too big for Georgia, and our hearts weren’t really in it.

For dinner, an AIR-CONDITIONED pub in our neighborhood, then another show-biz commute to the West End, this time to see the comic adaptation of “The 39 Steps.”  It was HILARIOUS.  We sat right down front.  It involved four actors playing about 50 different characters; madcap British humor (sorry, HUMOUR), and the kids loved it.  We laughed ’til our stomachs hurt.

This is really a mis-representation; we were HAPPY to wait for LouAnn whenever we needed to….

Loubie smelling the incredible flowers outside a hotel near our flat.

#blurryselfie

Air-conditioning!

LouAnn’s ENORMOUS fish & chips.  SURELY there’s no way she could finish it.

Or, um…..

VERY tired bus ride home.  And we didn’t even exert ourselves that day!

Well good grief, now it’s SEPTEMBER 10th, and because of my own busy-ness (read: LAZINESS), I have to try to remember what we did on JULY 22nd.  Fortunately, I have the photos to remind me; I look at them and the memories come flooding back in like it was just last week.

July 22nd was Tower of London Day!  As the trip entered its eighth week, the kids’ devotion to the broad historical significance of these European sites was starting to wear thin.  Alas, the Tower of London, for the three of them, was really just a place to hopefully see INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE AND EXECUTION.  The Crown Jewels?  Um, that might be cool.  The tumultuous history of the Tower as Royal residence, prison, government-building?  Meh.  The entertaining and eccentric Beefeaters?  Only if they’re the ones who used to CUT PEOPLE’S HEADS OFF.

But we had a beautiful day (actually, the weather in London was beautiful all week), and time was on our side, so we were able to linger at the Tower.  We hustled over to the Crown Jewels (smart move, LouAnn; there WAS in fact a very long line later in the day) as soon as we entered the gates.  They’ve recently enhanced the experience, and it was really cool.  Some serious gems.  And QEII’s coronation crown looked HEAVY.  And a quick visual survey of the preceding monarchs’ crowns confirmed my long-held theory that peoples’ heads are getting bigger and bigger these days.

Following our audio tour, we eventually made it to the INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE room, but I’m afraid it was a bit disappointing.  No actual torture going on.  Just a simple display of a Scavenger’s Daughter (the victim is slowly folded into himself, crushing him like a vise), a Rack (the victim’s limbs are slowly pulled from their sockets), and Manacles (the victim hangs from his hands like a prisoner in a Mel Brooks movie).  Yes, it was left to our imaginations to picture the countless poor souls who were so persuaded to confess, or spill the beans, or whatever it was they were trying to elicit.  We also saw the spot where several of Henry VII’s wives were beheaded.  It’s now an elegant glass memorial.  No chopping block, no blood stains on the cobblestones…. I mean, c’mon!

The building in the middle of the Tower grounds is FILLED with armaments and armor; that was pretty cool.  Lots of swords, axes, guns.  And we loved sitting in the shade and watching the always-present ravens.  Overall, a wonderful tour.

From the Tower we made our way to yet another pub for a late lunch.  The meat pies were amazing!  Via bus and tube, we meandered back to the apartment for a late afternoon rest before that evening’s theater outing:  “WICKED”!

And it was, in fact, WICKED.  Georgia was so excited she could hardly contain herself.  Despite being able to sing every song, she had never actually SEEN the show.  At intermission, moments after the curtain had fallen on “Defying Gravity”, Georgia literally couldn’t contain herself.  “That…..was…..AWESOME!!!!”, she squealed.  After the show, we camped out by the stage door and the kids got autographs from Galinda, Elfeba, Bock, Fiero….. They were thrilled.

Outside the Tower, first thing in the morning.  Much to his mother’s horror, Jack had already dumped his morning mocha down the front of his shirt.

The unassuming glass sculpture marking the spot where executions were held.  In fact, very few beheadings were conducted inside the Tower grounds; most were held out in the public squares.

FINALLY, some instruments of TORTURE.  One photo capturing all three we saw – the Scavenger’s Daughter, the Rack, the Manacles

RIVETED by the audio-tour.

Georgia!  Up here!

Ah, the Stumbo dramatics.

In the armaments/armor museum.  I ADORE this picture.

NOW WE’RE TALKING!  This is an ACTUAL chopping block, but a replica axe.  People’s heads were removed on THAT BLOCK.

This supposedly stoic guard bugged his eyes and winked at people.  Hmmmm….

Shepherd’s Pie at the pub!

Show-girl on the way to WICKED.

Poster reenactment #2.

Look how TALL he is!

Georgia, at intermission, very excited.

VERY excited.

After the show, VERY VERY excited!

Fiero!

Bock the Munchkin!

Galinda!

Elphaba!  Emma Hatton.  She had just stepped in as the full-time Elphaba the previous week.  She was phenomenal.

Cab ride home on a post-theatre-high….

Did I mention how SOFT the beds were in the London apartment?  Well, needless to say, after a travel day we took the opportunity to sleep in a bit.  I was the early riser, albeit at around 9:00.  I wandered down to the nearest underground station (Queensway) and bought passes for the day which would be good for both the buses and the underground.  We roused ourselves, and walked a block to Bayswater Road, and caught the 94 bus to Piccadilly!  We LOVED the double-decker bus, riding up top, of course.

Everyone in the world seemed to be walking up and down Regent Street leading into Piccadilly Square.  What a melting pot of humanity!  After de-bussing, we went straight to a reduced-price West End ticket booth to see what show tickets we could secure.  The night before, we had already booked “Porgy & Bess” (my FAVORITE) at the Regent’s Park outdoor theater.  At this stop, we ponied up and bought tickets to WICKED, and hatched plans for two more while we were there;  four nights, four shows!

After perusing Piccadilly Circus, we meandered down to Trafalgar square, sneaking up on it from behind the National Gallery.  Again, every London tourist was gathered here.  We talked about Nelson’s Column (do YOU know who Horatio Nelson was?), watched the impromptu sideshows popping up around the square, and the kids attempted to climb the giant lions (2 out of 3).  And once again we were HUNGRY.  Yelp led us to a great pub nearby, and we sat upstairs and filled up on fried EVERYTHING.

From Piccadilly Circus we caught our bus in the reverse direction, headed back to the apartment for a quick rest and change of clothes before “Porgy & Bess”.  [Of course, as I write this, it’s August 27th and  I’m one month removed from these London days, and many of the details have slipped away from me;  more accurately, PUSHED off the far end of my very-limited mind-shelf but the addition of all our back-to-school activities and concerns.]  We took a cab to Regent’s Park and luckily found ourselves with plenty of time to sit and have dinner at their outdoor café.  It was a BEAUTIFUL evening, and we had a wonderful dinner of salmon, QUINOA, salad….well, LouAnn and I had a wonderful dinner.  Kids weren’t to KEEN on the QUINOA – (see what I did there?).

The production was WONDERFUL.  It was a minimal set, with tables and chairs, which were moved around continually by the characters, as the only set pieces.  Supreme talent, especially with Porgy – he was outstanding, sympathetic yet strong.  Bess was strong, but you didn’t ache or secretly cheer for her redemption like Besses we’ve seen in other productions.  The kids LOVED it.  And its timing was perfect, as we’d just listened through the soundtrack in the car the week before while speeding through Normandy.

We meandered home through the darkened London streets, excitedly talking about the show….

First double-decker bus ride!

Trafalgar Square

C’mon, you guys help Jack!

Well, ok, never mind.  Smile!

Isn’t this an amazing picture?!  (Sorry for the sarcasm; this was the only lunch photo from that day)

Ellis wanted a picture with a REAL, old-school DDB.

Passing Loubie’s favorite store!

Walking the last bit home through Hyde Park.

Cab ride to Regent’s Park for “Porgy & Bess”

Dinner outside the theater.

Ellis & Georgia dutifully recreating the poster;  Jack not-so-dutiful.

Sneaky picture in the no-camera-zone.

The outside of our wonderful FLAT!

Although our time in Normandy was too short, it was time to move on.  Normandy had been a peaceful and restful stop for us, away from big-city life, sandwiched neatly between stays in Paris and London.  Somehow we figured out how to re-pack the Peugeot, and we scooted out of Caen mid-morning, headed back to Paris.  Countryside gave way to suburbs; suburbs gave way to Paris proper.

Driving in Paris was an absolute free-for-all, much worse than Florence.  And making this second edition of my Paris driving even more stressful was the need to find a gas station before returning the car, as I had been assured by Monsieur Hertz that bringing back an empty tank would cost me hundreds of euros and one of my children.  (just to be prepared, I had already picked out which child)  On our Google Maps display, gas stations kept appearing just around the next corner, but then we would turn said corner and see no gas pumps – only parking garages.  It finally sunk in that, in Paris, the gas stations must be IN THE PARKING GARAGES.  This flash of brilliance hit me after only the fourth parking garage was passed;  I pulled into the FIFTH one, and, voilà!  Gas!

I returned the car to the Hertz garage under Gare du Nord without HITTING ANYTHING.  At the counter, I averted my eyes when Jean-Luc asked me if there had been any damage to the car, hoping they wouldn’t inspect it too closely.  (No such luck – they called me a week later to ask if I had noticed the “large abrasion” on the right rear fender.  Naturally, I blamed it on LouAnn.)  I handed over the keys, then turned quickly and made my exit.

The Stumbos, all their worldy possessions in tow, then snaked their way through the bustle of humanity that is Gare du Nord.  Even got to see someone get arrested!  We found a deserted corner in which to camp out as we awaited our 4:00 departure on the Eurostar train, which would take us UNDER the English Channel and into London.  Yep, the Chunnel.  We soaked up the last bits of being in a foreign-language-speaking country.  We wrestled our bags onto the train, fell into our seats, and zoned out for the two-hour ride to the Motherland.

Disembarking at London’s St. Pancras station, we could feel a buzz of excitement between us.  I think it was a combination of things – arriving at our last stop of the trip, knowing it would be our last MOVE, being in an English-speaking country….  We were in the home stretch to, well, HOME.  And after seven weeks abroad, I think we we were beginning to get READY.

The first good sign in London was that we were able to fit all of our stuff, and all of US, in ONE London cab.  Woohoo!  It was about a 15-minute ride through the London rain from St. Pancras to our apartment in Lancaster Gate, bordering the north edge of Hyde Park.  It was a PERFECT location, and a PERFECT apartment, the finest accommodations of our trip.

Au revoir, Caen Novotel with no air conditioning!

The puzzle, put back together in perfect form.

Look, kids – the Arc de Triomphe!

Look, kids – the Arc de Triomphe!

It’s barely NOTICEABLE.  Particularly when you’re distracted by LouAnn’s cha-cha pants.

Taking over the Gare du Nord.

Chunnel-bound!

Arrival in London

Standing on the LEFT now, of course

AMAZED it all fit.

And WE all fit!

Amazing kitchen in our amazing apartm—-excuse me, FLAT.

We ordered Lebanese delivery the first night, of course!

Location of our amazing home for the five days in London.

Up and at ’em early once again in Caen.  Today’s agenda included the Normandy American Cemetery and Mont St-Michel.  And a lot of driving.

The Cemetery is hard to describe.  It struck me from both ends of a spectrum – the huge number of American lives lost during the invasion, and the singular, individual stories that were highlighted as part of the exhibits.  The amazing stories of individual courage and heart create such PERSONAL connections to the soldiers in question; then your understanding suddenly and rapidly expands – like a Jiffy-Pop of realization – to consider that every single cross and Star of David in that Cemetery represents a STORY, a LIFE that was unique in the way it was lived and then sacrificed.  And it becomes overwhelming.  9, 387 individual stories, personalities.  9,387 groups of loved ones who mourned.  And how to impress the gravity of that on your children?  I decided not to attempt it.  We let the experience speak for itself as we toured the exhibits and then the Cemetery itself in a steady rain. Truth is, we were ALL moved; the kids loved reading every story.

My FB post from those days:

“I’ve been deeply moved by two days spent at Omaha Beach, Pointe du Hoc, and the Normandy American Cemetery. Words fail, yet a few come to mind. Courage. Persistence. Heart. Leadership from both Leaders and the led. These characteristics are not exclusively American, but they have made our country great, and were demonstrated in ABUNDANCE on those days 70 years ago, and in the weeks and months that followed. I am humbled, heartened, GRATEFUL.”

We then pulled ourselves together and drove 1.5 hours to Mont St. Michel.  So incredible!  This ancient abbey and village sit on a tidal island.  Ever since a brief visit in high school, I’ve been desperate to get back and have a full tour.  It was a lot of climbing, but it was worth it!  The first monastery was established here in the 8th century.  The abbey itself, for the most part, was built in the 12th century.  The lower parts of the island comprise a small village, now solely focused on tourists.  And the monastery is still active, housing I-don’t-remember-how-many monks; we actually saw a few of them praying in the chapel.  They pray up to eight hours a day.

We had a wonderful dinner at one of the restaurants in the village, with a view back over the low-tide marsh to the mainland, before a very tired car-ride back to Caen; it was like driving a hearse!

Beginning of the indoor exhibits at the Normandy American Cemetery.

Just one of the many individual stories highlighted in the exhibits, making the experience so PERSONAL.

Exiting the exhibits building and making our way to the Cemetery.

Mont St.-Michel appearing out of the mist as we approached!

Entering the village.

Touring the abbey; we love audio-guides!

This ancient hamster-wheel inside the abbey is attached to a sled system that would be used to haul supplies up to the monastery.  The pallet would be loaded up in the village, then monks would get in the wheel and start walking, pulling the pallet up to the abbey.  Genius!

Praying monks.  Probably wasn’t supposed to take this picture…..

Dinner in the village.  I had the famous local mussels, and only GEORGIA was interested in sharing them!

The E-Bug Smolder.

Back-seat scene during our drive back to Caen…..

From a very loose, relaxed travel day to a very FULL day in Normandy.  And what was, quite possibly, my favorite day of the entire trip.

We were up and out of the Novotel in Caen at a reasonably early hour.  Beautiful, sunny day.  The plan for the day had us heading northwest, hoping to visit Bayeux, the D-Day Museum, Omaha Beach, and the Normandy American Museum all in the same day.  Rather ambitious.

We stopped first in Bayeux.  It’s a wonderful little town, quintessentially French, with a beautiful cathedral in the center.  We bought pastries and strolled through town.  Visited the cathedral – which was consecrated on July 14, 1077, and then rebuilt in the 12th century in a beautiful Gothic style.  Drove back out through town, passing a beautiful old mill just outside of this small city.

We continued northwest-ward, turning off the main motorway to head up to Omaha Beach.  The small roads are lined with the famous Norman hedgerows, and I nearly wore my phone out taking pictures.    These ancient hedgerows, which form property boundaries, were a critical element of the effort to wrestle control of Normandy away from the Nazis.  The hedgerows, though a prominent feature of the Norman landscape, were completely overlooked by the leaders planning the Allied invasion.  The troops simply couldn’t get through them, and the few openings in the hedgerows were pre-sighted by the Nazis – like walking into a trap.  The Sherman tanks we used could occasionally drive OVER the mounds of hard dirt, but doing so would expose the vulnerable underside of the tanks to German anti-tank guns.  But the ingenuity of the American soldiers prevailed, as they designed and built ways for the Shermans to bore holes in the dirt, which they would fill with explosives.  Anyways, I thought it a fascinating detail of the war, so I took lots of pictures.  Miles and miles of hedgerows, hundreds of years old, in beautiful emerald green.

The D-Day Museum was small but impressive, filled with items from the invasions, both donated and discovered.  Lots of questions from the kids, lots of talk about what a daunting undertaking it all was.  Neat films that told very personal stories of soldiers and nurses that survived.

From there we drove a few short miles north, through the small town of Saint-Laurent-Sur-Mer, until we dead-ended at Omaha Beach, site of the first and largest invasion.  There’s a beautiful monument there, and flags from the Allied nations flying, but other than that it is a beautiful, everyday beach.  The weather was beautiful, so there were tons of people on the beach and in the water.  We had lunch at a nearby cafe, then the kids changed in the car and we spent a few hours on the beach.  We LINGERED, and it was wonderful.

Next it was back in the car for the short drive to the Normandy American Cemetery.  Unfortunately, we had run out of time – we got there just as it closed.  BUT, this gave us time to go see Pointe du Hoc.

Pointe du Hoc, west of Omaha Beach, was a key strategic point for the Nazis, and Allied Target #1 for acquisition.  A group of Army Rangers, led by Lt. Colonel James Rudder, was charged with overtaking the Nazi installation there, which was heavily entrenched with elaborate concrete bunkers, tunnels, and huge 155mm guns that the Allies were keen to knock out.  The Nazis had never expected an attack from the shore, as Pointe du Hoc is at the top of a 100-foot cliff down to the beach below.  But that’s exactly where the Rangers attacked.  With grappling hooks, ropes and ladders, they fought and scrambled their way up the cliff while Nazi soldiers fired down on them from above.  Of the roughly 200 Rangers making the assault, only 110 survived to the top of the cliff.  But they quickly overtook the Nazi forces, captured the guns, and spent the next days in a desperate attempt to KEEP it until reinforcements arrived.  Today, Pointe du Hoc is an eerie but impactful monument to the Allied efforts there.  The landscape is still cratered from the bombings conducted ahead of the D-Day landing to soften up the enemy.  The Nazi bunkers are there.  You can walk to the edge and peer over the cliff that the Rangers somehow scaled.  It was wonderful.  We took our time, explored the bunkers and Pointe in a light rain, and read the many stories memorialized there.

Of course, this was the STUMBOS visiting a historic site, so it wasn’t without mishap or comedy.  Ellis found himself a concrete bunker entrance to climb down into, thinking that, like all the others they’d explored, it would LEAD somewhere.  But alas, it didn’t.  And he was STUCK.  It took both siblings and his mother to haul him out!

We stopped for dinner in Bayeux on our way back to Caen.  Good dinner.  GREAT cider.  And to top it off, “Tekila”, a LATIN REGGAE band, was playing downstairs.  Of course!

Arriving in Bayeux

The Cathedral

The D-Day Museum

Yet another historical lecture from Dad…..

The forward door from one of the many Allied landing vessels which carried troops to Omaha Beach

A Sherman tank

Omaha Beach

Georgia and LouAnn in front of “Les Braves”, created by French sculptor Anilore Banon to commemorate the 60th anniversary of D-Day in 2004.

We ate at a beachside cafe, where Georgia had a very American lunch.

Then, back to the beach!  The water was COLD, but kids don’t mind.

I did a lot of THIS on Omaha Beach.

Hedgerows!

More hedgerows!

One of many beautiful, ancient estates on the way to Pointe du Hoc.

Pointe du Hoc

German bunker

The memorial seen in the distance is at the top of the cliff the Rangers scaled.

The whole area is still pocked with craters from the Allied aerial bombing.

Looking down to the stretch of beach where the Rangers began their climb.

 

Ellis trying to escape from his bunker!

Our dinner spot back in Bayeux.

WONDERFUL cider…..

Tekila, the “latin reggae” band!

Another moving day!  This day would take us from Paris to Caen, in Normandy, and involve yet another DENTED RENTAL CAR…..

But first, we took a quick, early-morning walk over to Notre Dame cathedral to see and explain the FLYING BUTTRESSES.  Plus, one last haul from our local crêperie.

From there, I made my way via Metro to the labyrinthine Gare du Nord, and, eventually, the car rental counter.  I was determined not to be saddled once again with a car that was too small to accommodate our growing hoard of stuff.  This involved negotiations between two competing rental car counters, each Frenchman glowing with the satisfaction that they were both milking me for all I was worth.  In the end, it was a Peugeot from Hertz.  I successfully navigated out of the Gare du Nord parking garage, and wound my way through the confusing Paris streets (it’s not exactly laid out on a GRID).  I had plotted out the route to a parking garage near our apartment ahead of time, and pulled in without incident.  However, Paris parking spaces are SMALL, and, alas, I happened to kiss a concrete pillar with the rear fender as I pulled into one.  Just a wee flesh wound, really; BARELY noticeable.

Back to the apartment, then suffered through another session of watching my wife and kids haul all our luggage down 78 steps.  Such troopers!  With all our earthly possessions staged at Rue Seguier’s edge, we looked like a band of gypsies trying to introduce Paris to the high-cultured world of the American Garage Sale.  I hustled back to my garage, retrieved the scraped Peugeot, and navigated successfully back to the narrowest street in Paris.  I managed to pull onto the sidewalk across the street from #13, and gave the signal:  “hurry, load ’em up!  NOW!”  Somehow it all fit.  At the last moment, our host, Armelle, came around the corner!  So we got to say goodbye and thank her for her wonderful apartment.

Within 20 minutes we were out of Paris proper, motoring through the French countryside on our way to Normandy.  With my strict orders about not sitting for too long, we took frequent stops and traded drivers back and forth.  Early that evening we pulled into the Novotel in Caen.  A proper hotel!  LouAnn knew that meant ONE SURE THING:  Air Conditioning!  Nope.  No air conditioning.  But there WAS a pool.  Dinner in the hotel restaurant, and early bedtimes……

This was actually the night BEFORE.  LouAnn trying to PACK us.  Our belongings seemed to multiply like wet Gremlins.  And this was just AFTER sending two big suitcases home from Salzburg with my sisters…

For those of you with 49 seconds to kill, here are all 78 steps from our apartment to the courtyard.

Look, kids – Notre Dame!

GARGOYLE

“Oh, yeah, Notre Dame.  Cool.  Another cathedral.  Awesome.  Flying buttresses?  Huh.  Yeah, that’s neat…..”

Jambon et fromage….Nutella….DR PEPPER….

Oh, this isn’t even HALF of it….

Threading the needle of Rue Seguier in the Peugeot…..

It fit!

LouAnn and Armelle, our sweet host.

Off to Normandy!

This was the scene at EACH rest stop between Paris and Normandy.

The French countryside, whizzing by

Ok this is fun.  If you’ve read earlier posts, you may remember that, while I was in the hospital in Salzburg, LouAnn took the kids to the Salzburg Marionette Theater to see Mozart’s “The Magic Flute”.  They loved it, and it really stuck with them.  In the Paris Opera gift shop, Ellis found a DVD of the Met doing “Flute”, and he eagerly chose it as his souvenir.  In this video, as we zip through northern France, the kids are in the backseat watching the video.  And I’ve asked sweet LouAnn to recount the entire STORY of “Die Zauberflöte” for me from her recollection.  Listen for the children occasionally scolding/correcting her from the back seat.  You can also hear occasional interruptions from the French navigation lady. You’re a good sport, Loubie!

Well, we finally figured out how to solve the can’t-seem-to-get-up-and-out-of-the-apartment-as-early-as-we’d-like problem; this time, LouAnn and the kids got up early and went without me.  Turns out DAD was the problem.  Actually, knowing we needed early line placement to visit the Catacombs, LouAnn agreed to drag the kids out early and let me sleep in a bit.  Isn’t she the BEST?  By the time I showed up, just minutes before the Catacombs opened, they were snugly planted just 10 people from the front of the line.  Woohoo!

The Paris Catacombs are absolutely FASCINATING.  Now an official museum of the city of Paris, the Catacombs are the result of a few converging factors.  (I’ll give a brief and likely mildly inaccurate description of these factors, but if you’re really interested, go read about them:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catacombs_of_Paris)  In short, these ossuaries (that’s like the TENTH time I’ve used the word “ossuaries” today…) are filled with the skeletal remains of over 6 MILLION Parisians; er, FORMER Parisians.  They’re the result of two convergent factors:  over-zealous mining of precious Paris limestone to build the city and the over-crowding of Paris cemeteries.  With so much of the limestone removed under the city, Parisians began to suffer multiple, disastrous collapses.  The problem grew until Louis XVI finally took action in 1775 by establishing an Inspection of Mines service.  Concurrently, Paris cemeteries filled up.  So a plan was hatched to EMPTY all Paris cemeteries, moving the remains to the abandoned mines.  Voilà, the Catacombs.  Throughout the 1800’s, the remains were arranged into the museum-like display still existing today, as the Catacombs were fully mapped and visitors began, well, visiting.  Now it’s a wonderfully creepy walk through extensive tunnels, 20 meters below the city.  Well worth the wait!

From the Catacombs (and after, naturellement, a visit to the Catacombs GIFT SHOP), we moseyed over to the famous Rue Mouffetard for lunch at a sidewalk cafe.  Then back to the Metro for a ride to the Paris Opera House.  This impressive structure was, of course, the inspiration for the Phantom of the Opera story.  Impressive, indeed.  We had hoped to attend the then-running “Hunchback of Notre Dame” there, but it was just TOO pricy.  So we settled for a self-guided tour.  Absolutely beautiful.

After an afternoon rest at the apartment, we decided, this being our final evening in Paris, to have a relaxing picnic dinner on the lawn of the Louvre.  It was PERFECT.  The sun setting over the distant Champs-Elysees, our blanket spread on the perfect lawn, with the imposing and beautiful museum surrounding us.  Wonderful bread, cheese, and wine.  The kids playing soccer and trying to avert their eyes from the rather passionate and acrobatically-entwined couplets of lovers around us. We rested and laughed and felt very…..PARISIAN.  A perfect final evening.

The early-risers in place – just meters from the entrance!

Hatted in DISNEY attired, of course, from yesterday’s surprise trip.

The mark of the first Inspector General of the mines, appointed by Louis XVI.  Can’t remember his name.

Near the entrance, audio-guide in-hand.  Notice there are no BONES yet.

One of mine inspection workers carved elaborate scenes out of the limestone on his lunch breaks.

Bones, bones, bones.  The remains of over 6 million Parisians.

He took a musket-ball to the forehead, it seems.

An example of the huge caverns left by the many cave-ins.

The nondescript exit…..

….and, of course, the gift shop across the street.

Paris Opera House

The Grand Staircase

Side note – Jack had to haul this ladder down the 78 steps at our apartment, then back UP, so he could retrieve his brother’s raincoat, which he had “accidentally” thrown on top of the courtyard roof earlier in the week.

Real Frenchman!

Outside the Louvre at dusk, ready for our picnic.

The kids made a friend that night.

From the Tuileries Garden – Place de la Concorde, Arc de Triomphe

Notre Dame, during our late-night walk home…..

Yet another day we intended to get up and out of the apartment early, yet another day we didn’t quite make it as early as planned.  This time, we were headed to the Catacombs, highly recommended by our dear friends the Daniels (see the Lucca posting).  When we emerged from the subway station bright and early at 11:00ish…. we saw that the line to get INTO the Catacombs wrapped all the way around the block.  Some quick interviewing revealed that the wait was about three hours.  Ugh….

We retired to a nearby cafe to have some lunch and decide our afternoon.  We settled on a quick trip to Versailles to see the incredible palace and beautiful gardens.  The kids were a bit MEH about it, but trusted our judgment that it would be great!

But as we sat eating lunch, I was feeling a bit MEH myself about another palace.  So I hatched a plan to instead surprise the kids with a trip to Disneyland Paris.  A quick, discreet text across the table to LouAnn confirmed she agreed with the idea.

[NOW…..a POINTED NOTE to all of you who are QUICK TO JUDGE ME for spending a day in Paris, France at DISNEY:  I have spent this WHOLE TRIP being the MASTER OF CULTURE AND HISTORY.  Every BIT of this itinerary has been aimed at providing our kids the AUTHENTIC European experience.  Starting in MARCH, I had been asked no fewer than 200 TIMES, “please, please, please can we go to Paris Disneyland???  We’ll be RIGHT THERE!!!”  And every request was met with not just a refusal, but an AUTHORITATIVE refusal;  a refusal that carried with it a clear tone of disdain and shaming for the asking child.  “MON DIEU!  Good gracious NO.  We are NOT WASTING a day in Europe at DISNEYLAND!  Shame on you and your shallow, juvenile mind for asking!!  Cezanne and Degas are rolling in their GRAVES!!”  BUT…..I caved.  They were SUCH troopers during The Salzburg Incident that I decided to treat them.  Besides, I LOVE Disney World.  So LOOK DOWN YOUR GOOFY-SIZED NOSE at me if you will…..I’m not ashamed!]

So back on the Metro, connecting to the bigger train, all the way out to the LAST STOP.  Even though the upcoming-station list was scrolling on the screen inside the train car, the kids NEVER NOTICED the last stop said, “Disneyland Parc”.  It wasn’t until we were getting off the TRAIN that it started to sink in.  Needless to say, they were ECSTATIC.  We ended up with about 7 hours between the two parks, Disneyland and the Studios, and we had a blast.  I spent most of my time lying and sitting on benches, or traversing the parks to collect FastPasses, but I was happy to do it.

The morning started with a walk along the Seine!

QuickLoutakethepictureitsmellsliketinkledownhere…..

Lunch at the Indiana Café.  This may have been the exact moment – or near it – when I hatched my plan for the Versailles-Disneyland switcheroo.

What?  Disneyland!?!

This one’s funny because they’re so excited, but they have no idea where to go!

I managed to take a family selfie that’s focused only on me.  Huh.

Thank you, random British tourist!  (Disneyland was FULL of Brits)

 

Dead ringer.

This ride was called something like, “Woody’s Disc-Slipping Roundup.”  So, naturally, I didn’t ride it….

These two win the prize maintaining the highest energy levels late into the evening.  Would you have bet on anyone else?