My pen has been strangely silent, and words have come with difficulty these past few days. I know not why. Perhaps it is because my mind feels like a snowglobe that has been shaken -- too many new memories that, like the agitated snow, float around and prevent clarity of the scene within.
As I sit on the train back to Paris though, the events of the past few days begin to sort themselves out, leaving me richer yet than when I came. Well, richer in spirit at least...the weakness of the US dollar against the Euro may require that I begin moonlighting at Starbucks to pay off these memories!
Gramps and my 14 year old cousin arrived in Paris on Wednesday afternoon and were promptly ready to see the city, which we did atop a bright yellow double decker bus that screams, "TOURIST." Parisian drivers laughed at all of us busily snapping pictures of random buildings to our left and right, all the while missing the grand Opera House which stood ostentatiously before us. We saw all the usual sites for which Paris is famous, and after stopping at Notre Dame, my gramps half suggested/half demanded we take a taxi back to our hotel instead of walking 10 miles. And thus began our rather expensive habit of hailing a cab whenever we got tired. But don't get me wrong! If Paris wins its bid for the 2012 Olympics, my gramps could come back and beat any one of you in a foot race across the city. At 84 years old, he stands tall and dignified, and bless his heart if he hasn't complained once while I tell him, "Gramps, I swear it's just around the corner -- only a few more blocks." It's a good thing he is returning to the US tomorrow, for I think he is starting to catch onto my directional incompetencies, and may be less forgiving if he really knew how bad I am!
Thursday was spent at the palace of Versailles, though we very nearly gave up on getting there after a series of mishaps. If I could suggest one thing to the French tourist board, it is this: Please help us confused tourists by placing a nice retired information lady at the Paris-Versailles train station. All she would have to do is sit on a chair with a megaphone and yell, "You simpletons who can't figure out the complex maze of the Parisian trains. You must only board the train that starts with a V. V is for Versailles. Do not board any other train that starts with the other 25 letters of the alphabet, even if it says it is going to Versailles. It is a trick to fool you. Remember, V is for Versailles."
I remembered reading this handy tip in my guidebook, but it didn't matter. When throngs of tourists congregate, they are like a herd of dumb sheep following the leader, even if we might know better. Two wrong trains and one hour later, we had the courage to break away from the sheep pack, and were well on our way to Louis XIV's grandiose palace, which at one time was the size of present-day Paris. What a spectacle it must have been to live in those days when common folk and aristocrats clamoured for the opportunity to watch the king rise from his magnificent bed each morning. I should think that if people saw me rise each morning, they would be terrified at the sight and would promptly demand a new ruler. Maybe this was the real reason the French monarchy eventually failed -- perhaps their kings were too ugly to look at each morning and the people revolted! Then again, maybe not....
Friday and Saturday brought about the real reason for this trip -- my gramps' return to Omaha Beach 60 years after coming behind the D-Day troops on June 7, 1944. The beach was much quieter this day, with waves barely lapping against the shore. But such was not the case on that infamous day, and as the tour guide gave us the detailed history of that nightmarish landing, my grandfather recounted those hours as only someone who has lived it can do. The experience and emotions deserve much more than this ink to parchment can tell. Suffice to say that my grandfather was given a hero's welcome over and over again; gratitude evidenced in tearful thank you's and solemn handshakes.
My days in France are now over. Tomorrow I'm off to London for tea with the Queen, then back on Tuesday to the land of cacti and breathtaking sunsets...after all, it's time to start working on that Starbuck's job application!