My dream is coming true.

 2012: It has always been my dream to see Europe. There was always something prohibiting it though - more important priorities. Raising kids alone on a tight budget, many years of college that demanded my attention, and a full time job which prevented me from investing in travel and being away from my daughters.

Then in 2012 my life began to change. My children were launched and content, I was physically fit and healthy, I had saved money. I was ready. My passport was current. It was time and I was so excited.

It never bothered me, traveling alone, because I loved challenging myself and I was intrepid. I thought perhaps being totally alone for a lengthy time might get lonely, so I researched many travel tours where I could meet up with a group in Europe. I studied the countries and places I wanted to see.  I used Google Earth to virtually put myself at street view to get a feel for the cities. I made lists. I scoured the web for ideas and built my dream piece by piece. 

Eventually I settled on a Rick Steves international tour that would take me through Paris, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy which is the homeland of my grandparents. I decided to spend a few days alone in Paris ahead of the tour group's arrival. Then in earnest, I began an exhaustive time of blissful planning and shopping. I paid the down payment for my tour and bought my flight to Paris and my return flight from Rome.

In 6 days it will be noon in Paris :)

Today I called up my first hotel in Paris to re-confirm my reservation.  I don't know what I was expecting, but the man answered in French!  Like, "duh" right? I had an instant jolt of adrenaline and all the French phrases I knew flew right out the window.  He knew English, but by the time I realized it, I was already a giddy fool, trying to explain that I was an American calling to confirm my reservation.  There was no need to say "I'm an American" because when he confirmed my upcoming arrival, I blurted out "AWESOME, OMG!"  Yeah....he knew then I was an American.  Following that, I drove to work but don't remember doing so, and yet I did arrive there, high as a kite thanks to the kick from my adrenal gland.  I only remember my car speakers belting out Kings of Leon "Your Sex Is On Fire" for all to hear in the parking lot of the hospital when I got to work.  Was I singing that for the past 4 minutes?  Was the window down?  I can see the sheer rush of foreign travel has already begun.

T-24 hours, and ugh SICK!!!

 Boarding plane in exactly 24 hours.  Woke up today SICK with a cold, sneezing, coughing, sinuses congested, eyeballs burning, headache.  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Day 1 in Paris: buckle up and join me!!

Finally in Paris!  So let me get the BAD news out of the way first:  in trying to pack "light" I tossed aside what I thought was a random USB cable, and guess what - it's the only one that connects to my CAMERA so I could upload photos.  It's at home.  Regular USB cables don't fit into my camera.  My netbook doesn't take memory cards.  I can't even believe it, I'm so upset.  I experience a minor freak out.
Anyway, I arrive in Paris after being up for 24+ hours.  Oh to backtrack: "Andy" sat by me on the plane from Portland to Amsterdam. and we got along great immediately, and drank 3 Absolut Vodka's and cranberry juice and talked the whole way.  Andy is one of these young adventurous genius type people, so he was like sitting next to James Franco, that's how cool it was.  And he had a sarcastic sense of humor like me, so I know  my daughter Amber would like him.  I tried to hook that up, but he's taken, sorry Amber.  Then we hung out at Schiphol airport until we had to part.  Au Revior Andy, see you on Facebook!  If you break up with your girlfriend, let me know, I have a beautiful single daughter!  Schiphol airport was a nightmare, disorganized and packed into a bottleneck trying to get through passport control.

It is my turn for passport control finally. The officer peruses my passport and looks at me seriously. "What is the purpose of your visit?" he inquires. "I'm on vacation!!!" I say, giddy.  He says "Holiday? You're on holiday?" He peers at me with suspicion. I smile hugely at him, hoping that will help. A side note for the reader: my legal first name is Holiday. So, I reply to the officer "Yup! That's me!" He is still trying to find out why I have arrived in Amsterdam and I answered his question, obviously, so he asks again. "You're here on holiday?" which catches me off guard. I'm sincerely lost at this point, until it occurs to me that "holiday" is the European word for vacation. I burst out laughing. He remains stoic. "Yes, Holiday is here on holiday!" I say with a ridiculously loud laugh. He didn't laugh, but after asking me the other questions, he lets me through. I'm off to a great start.

Finally I get on another plane and head to CDG airport, which you pronounce like this: Sharl de Gole.  Real fast.  Not Charles de Gaulle, don't say it like that.  Next, I find the taxi queue and take a cab ride to my hotel in central Paris.  Holy cow, what a bustling busy crazy city.  Beautiful with lots of historic and amazing architecture but wow.  Don't get hit by a car or tour bus because make no mistake: if you're on foot a tour bus WILL hit you like a possum if you're not alert.

Got checked in, then up and around a few hours later and walked around a bit, and eventually walked to the Eiffel Tower, about 20 minute walk for a short person. 10 if you're tall, but whatever.  I was still there at 9 pm  when the tower lights up with the sparking gold lights.  The Champs de Mars (in front of the tower) was full of partiers and revelers of all nationalities.  One lady who was totally hammered, was singing and dancing the Macarena.  No joke.  What's up with those militia guys patrolling the park area with those semi automatic rifles?  Yikes!  Anyway I took a bunch of pics, too bad you can't see them.  

Right off the bat on my first walk in Paris, I get lost.  Big surprise to my family right?  I soon have no idea where I am, and everything looks the same.  Although I took note of landmarks, I forget what they were and anyway they all look the same.   I am completely intimidated by the cafes and I find a market and buy myself a ham and cheese sandwich, I'm not even kidding!!!  Maybe I'll be braver tomorrow.  We'll see!  I find a bakery and want to buy a baguette but they are 24 inches long.  What am I gonna do with 24 inches?  I can only handle three.  I know what some of you are thinking, don't even go there, keep it clean people!!!  So I didn't get one yet.  My hotel doesn't allow food in the room, so of course I had to smuggle something.  I find a Greek place and get a pocket sized baklava.  I know I know, Greek really?  It was 3" what can I say.  I am desperate for coffee.

How to look like a woman in Paris:  wear a big scarf around your neck, wear either ballet flats or stilettos (no in between) do NOT wear a hoodie or athletic sneakers for heavens sake, DO walk fast and with purpose.  Here was me:  wearing Ecco sandals, no scarf, lost but with a purpose!  (to find out where in the  **** I was.)  No hoodie, but wishing I had one because it is FREEZING here, totally unprepared for that.  Trust me, there's no hoodies for sale in Paris.  My landmarks were: walk past militia, turn left by Maracanã woman, go straight to giant stone carved historic building (what is that place?) and then a left and through lots of life threatening intersections, turn right by a cafe (which one again?) and find the hotel on a corner of a block shaped like a wedge, but oh wait, they're ALL shaped like a wedge.  Perfect.  Eventually like "Where's Waldo", I found myself, and I'm back in my room crying over my missing USB cable.

I love you all, and am going to sneak that baklava now.  I can see the Eiffel Tower from my bedroom window if I hang my head out! If anyone has any brilliant ideas for the camera problem, let me know!!!  The cable is specific to my camera. I'm SO sick about it!!!  More tomorrow y'all.  Thanks for reading!   Although it says I'm posting in  the afternoon, it must be afternoon there but it's 10:45 pm here.

Day 2 in Paris: Follow me!

After a good (i.e. drugged on Restoril and Ambien) sleep I awake to sunshine. YES! After getting dressed I venture out. First stop: Walmart for a hoodie! Juuuuuust kidding! I wish!  Over the jet lag, I manage to find the missing USB cable which was "right there" the whole time.  Whew.

I hang a right on Ave Motte-Picquet. Where is that you say? I don't know! I just go with it, in search of un cafe creme. Oh look, there is that street I read about Rue Cler, so I hang a left on that. Hmmm big street market/fancy yard sale appearing street with upscale shops. I need a scarf and a jacket, but no, can't find what I want. How about that coffee! At the end of Rue Cler I hang a left or maybe a right on Saint Dominique. Ah lots of cafes here. Lots of French people and doves. I choose a cafe and sit down outdoors to people watch. The server comes and brings me a cafe creme which is like a frothy latte, and it's amazing (sorry Starbucks, but it puts you to shame) and I order a baguette (just the right size) and butter and jam. Oh great everybody around me is smoking. But it was a good breakfast and clearly I'm getting the hang of this. It cost 7 euro. Like just under $10 I think.

After breakfast, I hang a right or maybe a left thinking I was supposed to keep going right or left but I don't remember which, typical of me. Yup, where am I? Ah voila the tip top of the Eiffel Tower somehow appears in the distance and I'm home free. There are people jogging everywhere. Nobody is fat here. Others are bicycling and of course women are walking the park in stillettos. And bicycling in stillettos. Free WiFi network called "orange" in the park Champ de Mars. I've been dropping Euros like crazy already. Something free at last!

No Macarena woman today, so I try to identify stationery landmarks while watching out for dog poop and dove droppings. Alright clearly I need a jacket. As my co-workers know, I am always cold now since losing weight. Maybe on Avenue de la Bourdonnais I will shop. If I get turned around I will run into the Seine River so that's a plus, cuz it's clearly the wrong direction. Otherwise Bourdonnais sort of runs near my hotel. I think.

I am getting out my camera and will grab a few pics to upload tonight. Don't worry, I am wearing my money belt which actually works pretty nicely if it's cinched tight, sort of like a spanx for the tummy. Nice! I can live with that! Maybe forever! I haven't even lost my glasses yet, which everybody at home knows this is quite an achievement.  I try not to look like a tourist while taking a picture of myself.  Epic fail at the "trying not to look like a tourist" but I can live with it.

I WAS going to get on the Metro and head to the science museum, but yeah, no. I would end up God knows where, and I need to be back under the Eiffel Tower by 6:30 to join the 4-hour bike ride group where we will tour the city on bikes. It will be freezing. At the end of that, we take a tour on the Siene with wine. Windy and cold Siene, so I am back to my former quest to find a jacket. I left this great grey stylish jacket at home, which was stupid I now know. Se la vie! Which is not in my french phrase book, so I can't spell it. For some reason I can speak Spanish now, which will come in sort of handy in Italy but is useless here. That's it for now compadres (*see!) Muah, and hug hug and kiss on both cheeks :)

Here's some photos :)

Here's Andy, my buddy on the 10 hour plane flight!

We thought this said "produced in Anus, Sweden."  We laughed so hard over that.  But it says Ahus :P

Ah arrival in France at last!

My hotel

My room

View from my window!

On Champ de Mars at night!  Magical!

Me on day 2, exploring the city on foot.  Getting lost a LOT

Day 3 in Paris plus highlights from last night :) Click blog link to read!

     Today begins day 3 in Paris, but I hadn’t time to update you about last evening in full detail. After spending yesterday day exploring the street scene and the thousands of multi-ethnic people, I took a short afternoon nap and got ready for the 7 pm evening bike tour. “Fat Tire Bike Tours” is run by a group of American ex-pats and they have a WILD evening in store for me and 24 others. I met the group under the Eiffel Tower and am introduced to our adorable, extroverted, hysterical guide “Karl” - who is “from Norway” and he is “a Viking.” He’s a history major at some university here, but he’s more like a stand up comic and so we’re in for a good time.

     We all get a bike picked out and they are nice adjustable 3 speed beach cruisers, and mine is adjusted perfectly for me. The night was warm fortunately, as opposed to the previous night which was freezing. So we’re good to go! By now the sun is going down and the city is lit up. We all wear these cheesy neon vests with reflective tape on it which helps Karl keep track of us, and keeps us from being run down. It works, nobody has died yet! We didn’t even sign a waiver that we wouldn’t sue anyone if we got run down by a bus or drunk, which in the States we definitely would have been forced to sign!

     Karl he tells us the rules of riding “like a Viking” through the crowded busy noisy crazy streets of nighttime Paris. Picture New York city at night, it’s like that. We take off riding in a huge group, and Karl takes us all over the city, however I can barely look left or right because we are riding like a bat outa hell and there are cars and people and other cyclists and lights and noise and curbs and buses and the rest of our group ALL around and in front of and behind us! It was nuts, but of course I did excellent. I knew the “old me” would have never ever been able to do this. I was celebrating the new me, who of course takes this kind of activity in stride like I do it every day.

     We toured all over the city with Karl pointing out the sights and stopping now and then to explain the history of some location, adding his own spin on it. For example when he shows us the place where they kept Marie Antoinette held prisoner, he tells us how there was a hole in her cell (more like a cave) and how the guards would pee through the hole. When they chopped off her head, they brought the guillotine down once only part way so she was cut but still alive. Then after a minute of suffering for good measure, they dropped the blade again to chop off her head. After that, we stopped for ice cream by Notre Dame on the Seine. I had “Moka” ice cream in a sugar cone and it was divine.

     The scenery on this bridge we were on, was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life (except for my children being born, don’t get me wrong.) Anyone who has been to Paris knows that bridge where the people attach all the locks on the fence going across the bridge, a romance thing? OK there, at night. AMAZING. I was awestruck by the beauty of the city hall place (Hotel de Ville, but it’s the city hall) and Notre Dame and the Seine, and the thrill of the ride and all the fun people. A lady took my photo in front of the eerily glowing Louvre pyramid, at about 10 pm.

     After that we all boarded Batteaux Mauches which are these open boats and we cruised the Seine river for an hour, drinking red wine. Salut! We could have “all we can drink” however we still have to ride our bikes back so I held it to one glass, boo hoo. Bummer! There were all kinds of people lounging along the banks of the Seine, many who are fully intoxicated and falling, making out, mooning the boats as they float by, and lots of singing, drinking and merriment. I wonder how many drunk partiers fall into the Seine every day. Karl says yes they do find dead bodies in there. But I made it back sober and safe as we all did, and the adventure ended around 11:30 pm. I had to walk back alone through town and through Champ de Mars to my hotel.

      Believe me I wasn’t “alone” because there is a party there ALL night long. I strutted confidently like a Parisian woman and nobody gave me a second glance. I have a scarf now, so I appear to be a local.  People even speak to me in French all the time, and that is because I wear skinny jeans and walk with confidence and purpose. That is the secret.

Then I came back and chickened out trying to find dinner, and ended up with a banana. The food thing is throwing me off. Then off to bed with the window open and the busy noise of central Paris coming in to lull me off to dreamland. Don’t worry, I’m on the 3^rd floor. I slept about 9 hours, which I NEVER do at home, drug free I might add.

      By the way, I am employing a strategy of staying DEHYDRATED, which is working great. The idea is to avoid the hassle of locating “les toilettes” all over town, so I have this figured out. The hype about staying hydrated is illogical in a town with few les toilettes. So, although my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, I am staying dehydrated and have no fears that way. When I get back to my room I have a big bottle of water, so don’t worry. I have a bathroom there too. Comprenez-vous? Oui! Oui!

      In the morning today, of day 3, I get up late and freak out realizing what time it is, like 11 am! I dress and get another banana and head to the Batobus which is an open air water bus on the Seine. A funny little French kid taught me how to pronounce it thusly: “BOT-OH-BOUSE” not bat-oh-bus like you think. It stops at 8 touristy places, and eventually at the Louvre where I exit. I’m starving and inside the Louvre there is a McDonalds but I resist and instead order some kind of awful pizza thing with goat cheese from an Italian joint. It didn’t taste like pizza as I know it. It was like um, a cracker with goat cheese on it and maybe a tiny bit of sauce. Ugh. Soon however I find Starbucks and I am good again.

      Once in the Louvre I head to the Italian Renaissance section to see the art work of the great masters. People, let me tell you - I wasn’t prepared for my reaction. At Cal St Fullerton in 1975 I studied Art History and it all came to LIFE for me today. I was simply awe-struck and emotional seeing in person these works up close. I couldn’t believe it. The paintings are like nothing you’ve seen before, when you view them in person. Some of them are massive, taking up an entire wall. That period had so much darkness and suffering and fear. So many of the people in the paintings look so sad, and never make eye contact with the artist. There is a massive amount of religious symbolism and paintings of the Crucifixion. There is emotion everywhere you look, in each face, in each scene and brushstroke. I was simply floored, and tearful. I will never forget it. I studied it in an auditorium at college, but it was nothing like this. I wanted very much today to have my brother in law Art at my side to enjoy it with me. He loves history and he would have made the BEST companion today. Love you Art, you were there in my heart the whole time.

      After the Louvre closed, I picked up a few EXPENSIVE trinkets for my kids and headed back on Batobus to the 7^th arrondissement where my hotel is. It’s a few hours later now and I’m doing my laundry in the sink, and writing this update. I got a call from my old friend Patricia, who lives in Paris now, and we are meeting for lunch tomorrow! I’m SO excited. She is going to teach me how to actually eat at a Parisian café. No more bananas and ham sandwiches for me! Tomorrow at 4 pm I meet my tour group. I have observed a few of them checking in early as I did.

I still haven’t climbed the Eiffel Tower stairs because the stairs closed at 6:30 and I missed it! I am so mad! I can’t go back without climbing those stairs, as my kids, and Kel and Daimon my trainer are all counting on me. I have to fit this in! If I can get myself outa bed early tomorrow, I can get it done before lunch I hope. My camera battery died as I was trying to upload photos. GAAH.

      Well, for tonight, “bonsoir” my loves!

Meeting tour group, and PARIS together!

This is the first of several updates:

On Monday Sept 17 I had a wonderful lunch with friend Patricia, and later I met my tour mates and our guide Stephen, who has a PhD, wow.  He's friendly and funny, and we all introduced ourselves and told something about why we'd chosen this trip.  Thank goodness, there are a bunch of people who have come alone, 5 of us to be exact.  Whew!  We probably ate dinner but I can't remember.  Geez it must have been memorable :D  We had a boat ride on the Seine, the same one I did last night, but it's always good to do it again.  Why not?  I'm in Paris!  For some reason that day I took a photo of dog poop laid out in the shape of a cross, which is just all kinds of wrong. There is a lot of dog poop in Paris, so watch your step.  Apparently I wanted to capture the whole Parisian experience, leave it to me.


On Tues Sept 18, it's "hit the ground running" day.  We get on the Metro, which was pure comedy to me.  Everybody else got the hang of it quickly, but to me it was a backwards maze that made my head spin off it's axis.  Stephen does a great job of explaining it, but of course I don't get it and never will, so I basically follow Stephen like a little puppy.  He will surely get tired of me, but right now he's generous and tolerant.  He walks fast, so it's a good workout for me, the shortie.  Some of the tourmates seem to have a sense of direction, hallelujah.  Stephen eventually leads us to Saint Chapelle cathedral, which is sort of awe inspiring, except one side of the cathedral is being renovated, so it was covered in a giant billboard thing.  What a buzz kill.  But it's still beautiful.  I just wink one eye and the billboard goes away, voila!
  

 We had a "walking tour" and walked through the Latin Quarter , St Germaine, the Invalides, and other neighborhoods that each gave Paris a different flavor. In each of those districts, the architecture is breathtaking. The streets are narrow and surrounded by tall stone buildings that reflect the historic heritage of France. I saw some famous areas that were featured in the movie “Midnight in Paris” with Owen Wilson. Sometimes we’d just happen upon it, and someone would say “OMG those are the steps Owen Wilson was on in that movie!” Everyone grabs their camera. Later on we'll look at our photos and go "OMG, why in the h*** did I take a photo of STAIRS, I officially hate stairs and never intend to climb another stair."


We were in many gorgeous catherdrals such as St Sulpice while mass was going on in Latin, and in Notre Dame (incredible.) My very favorite was the exquisite St Sulpice, by far.  Of course Notre Dame has the "flying buttresses" and Stephen gave us a little lecture on that, which flew right over my head, so I don't remember what that's all about.  I think it's something to do with Gothic architecture and roofs not caving in on the rest of the structure.  I don't get the flying reference though.  Fortunately I'm not the tour guide.  Lord knows how that would wind up, my having the directional dyslexia and all.  We'd have to call it the "timbucktu" tour.

We strolled the gorgeous Musee L‘Orangerie and the Jardin de Tuleries (garden), I was moved to tears by Monet’s Water Lilies painting, which is laid out in a circle around the room. Knowing that Monet went blind and his impressionistic method was partially driven by the loss of his vision was moving to me, beyond words. Just knowing I was there, in person, in Paris, in this important place made me weep. Some of my tour mates saw me and I pulled it together, yet  I felt such gratitude and worship being in this place. I feel so blessed.  Wouldn't it be great to have a remote control and put the experience on "pause" now and then in order to fully absorb it.  That's how I felt in front of The Water Lilies. 

Later we hit the d'Orsay Museum, which is really pretty cool, but my new friends Cindy and Sandy and I farted around too long, and then found out the museum was closing in 45 mins!  This art is getting to me. Being inches away from these famous works of art was simply unbelievable.  We also saw of course a gazillion tourists, and it was hard to even see the art half the time.  I did see a guy with a Rick Steves tour book in his back pocket, which is also art, the art of back door travel.  Not quite Monet, but whatever.

Me and the girls had our dinner on a park bench on the Seine. Dinner included a large baguette and sweet cream butter, fromage (cheese) wine, olives and a pastry. It was divine! We reviewed our tour mates’ names, and quizzed each other.  We called Jerry and Janine, "city and country" and we called Craig "that guy with the cute baby face."  We got the Gary's mixed up with different wives.  We'll get it eventually LOL!!  All the others went out to enjoy various cafe's in Paris, and apparently nobody had a ham and cheese sandwich or banana.

It is now Weds Sept 19 and today we had a guided tour of the Louvre, but it went by fast with the Louvre tour guide able to elaborate only on selected popular works, but it was far more moving when I was there on my own and able to truly stop and absorb the history and the emotion.

Today we are leaving Paris and meet our bus driver Matt. I am on the bus. With wine J Maybe 9 oz or so. Pleasantly buzzed. 13.9% alcohol in this product. Next to me are Vicki and John. He is a recently retired optometrist and she is a retired teacher. Lovely company. I am fully present, does that make sense? It is absolutely ok to be alone and safe and guided. I couldn’t drive right now, blood alcohol level too high. Perhaps I can't walk either, cuz at the rest stop I can barely get off the bus, and then can't figure out the bathroom.  Once I'm inside the stall, I'm tipsy and laughing and hoping nobody can hear me!!  Once back on the bus, I get emotional, what the.....?  Too much wine? No. Not too much wine. Too much meaning to this moment. Not the bathroom moment. To so many other meaningful moments. Is there “too much?” On your trip of a lifetime, the one you have dreamed of and never thought possible? No. Certainly no. For me, there is not enough Kleenex for the tears of gratitude. Thank you, thank you, thank you……


On the bus, Christy behind me is coming down with a cold and she feels really sick. Like I did the day before my trip. I feel wonderful, thank the Lord. Her husband is Jude, and she is a trouper and a good sport. We all spent $4195 for the tour, and that doesn’t include airfare (or alcohol/souvenirs) so poor Christy. I will be especially nice to her, and don’t worry - I will wash my hands a LOT (and brush my teeth.)  I say a little prayer for Christy.

OK, hmmm what? Oh great Stephen is announcing room numbers at our next hotel in Beaune, France. Holly: you are in room 14. I hope it’s on the bottom floor.  Oh dear, now Stephen is announcing an upcoming orientation walk upon arrival. Great. I’m not sure I can walk a straight line at this blessed moment Haha!!!! Can I fake it?  I'll soon find out.  Stay tuned.

Beaune France!

I don't know the date anymore.  I think Sept 19.

Today we arrived in Beaune, France. You pronounce it like this:  bone.  Don't even think you're sounding French, and foolishly say "Bun or Boon", so say bone.  It’s in the east of France about halfway between the southern and northern borders. The hotel we are in is called "Hotel des Remparts" and it's incredibly charming.

My room is the total opposite of Paris. It’s got a gorgeous wooden floor, a nice double bed, and a darling white spiral staircase that just goes to the ceiling and stops. I go up it and bump my head, naturally, still under the influence from drinking wine on the bus to Beaune. It’s just for show I guess, it’s so quaint. Perhaps in the past it connected to an upper level. Just outside my wooden framed window, is a flower box full of red blooms. The bathroom has a lovely marble floor. Sadly we are only here 1 night! Tonight we are wine tasting, just what I need.

The whole town looks like is comes from a fairy tale. The streets are all cobblestone, the quaint buildings are pristinely clean and historic and visually beautiful. The center of the small town has a gorgeous carousel of decorative wooden ponies, for children (of all ages!), and it’s lit with tiny white lights. There is a beautiful stone building that was once a hospice where nuns worked to care for the sick. It had 90 beds. Sandy and I tour it and it has been preserved, even with mannequins dressed like nuns and sick patients.  There is no fake vomit, although in the states you can buy that, this place isn't quite that realistic, but it's an idea.  There is this guided audio tour where you listen to a theatrical narrative which you choose by supposedly following a room number system, which doesn't match up with the rooms.  Even Sandy has a Holly experience and can't seem to figure out which room that we're in.  This kind of thing feels very familiar to my brain, so it's no big deal.

Earlier Stephen was pointing out grapes. “You can’t compare Burgundy and Pinot Noir.” Here is my life experience: can you compare Wild Wines and Boone’s Farm? I’m out of my element here. After wine tasting, I will report back. Provided I can still type.

For dinner we walked as a group to a restaurant in the most gorgeous setting. The sign outside of the
place says “Sauf Livraisons.” The building was constructed 1800 years ago, as an abbey where about a dozen monks lived. The floors and walls were stone like a castle and the ceilings were arched and stained in black hues from moisture. It’s now a restaurant and winery. We started the evening with a wine tasting given by a precious French woman with a thick French accent. We each got a small silver cup (like a small communion cup) and we tried about half dozen wines. She showed us the techniques of true wine appreciation. I loved the final wine which was sweet like berries. For dinner we had an amazing feast. My dessert crème brullet was cooked to perfection with a crunchy buttery golden browned sugar top. It was heavenly.

Walking back after our 3 hour feast, I discovered that one of the ladies on the tour is a chaplain at St Joseph Hosp in Orange County, where I worked for 17 years. I couldn’t believe it. Her name is Beverly. She told me that the kind of nursery for sick babies where I once worked (that closed down around 1999 maybe?) is coming back to St Joes but will be run by the Children’s Hospital next door. I think of all my many friends there and wonder if any will be in the new nursery. I miss that place, and those people.

Stephen, our great tour guide helps us to think about the world around us and what defines that world for us. He teaches us about the culture of the world we are sampling both currently and historically, and he helps us understand the people and their world. Beautiful.

Switzerland!!!!

Sept 20-21

We're leaving Beaune and heading to Switzerland today.  I am feeling contemplative and quiet. The experience has taken on a different flavor for me, if you will. Some of it is prompted by Stephen's guidance and most of it is just me.  For the first several days I found the humor in events, and people and challenges. Now however I find myself immersed in the meaning of this experience. Not all of you will comprehend that, because it’s not something you can fundamentally understand by “thinking” about it. 


Don’t assume for a moment that I’m attaching meaning to events and interactions. Rather I’m extracting the meaning that is already present; I’m receiving it as a gift. It’s a hard way to live in the world, to be present in that kind of way because it comes with a lot of happy tears, and tears of simple gratitude. My sister Vicki will understand fully and no words would be necessary between us, just a look of recognition. I miss you sis.. So there have been quite a few tears as this experience carves and taps something deep in me. That will be my greatest souvenir.


I have so many photos, as all travelers do. Internet connectivity has been a real problem the whole trip. Our group is gelling and becoming like a friendly community. We know one another’s names now, as well as something about each other, and we dine together and stroll and we talk and laugh quite a lot.. For me there is far less worry now about negotiating the challenges of the city, the language, the currency, the time change. It’s nice to be part of a group right now. It’s a relief not to be stressed.

As we leave France and journey to Switzerland, the landscape changes dramatically.  I am in the back of the bus and I can’t see over the seat in front of me and it’s bugging me.  I want to see what is ahead.  The colors change to a deep green.  Deep valleys with quaint buildings come into view.  I see white cows.  A low lying layer of fog mists the base of the mountains.  Are those the Alps?  Stephen begins to tell us of Switzerland so in my heart, I leave France behind and I’m excited to embrace this beautiful place. 

Stephen shares with us a deeply personal story about a loss he suffered.  He weaves the details with the emotion and even he is overcome.  I look around me, and many in our group have eyes brimming with tears.  Loss is a universal experience.  I am honored by his trust.  My heart breaks a little and I weave and link my human experience with his.  We all did.

At a lunch stop in Lindau, we encounter another interesting restroom experience.  It's the "human hygiene" vending machine.  I don't know who named it human hygiene, it was really the XXX adult shop vending machine.  We all crack up and grab our cameras.  Talk about a way to lighten the mood! Hysterical!  I'm sitting on the toilet, and Julie in the next stall announces, "Look out everybody,  there's a big ass spider hanging from the light!"  I look up and sure enough, there is a spider the size of a quarter suspended a few feet above our heads.  I grab my camera.

Back on our Lindau walk, Steve points out a church that says "Soli Deo Gloria" on it.  "Glory to God alone."  This strikes a cord in me of course, and rips my heart out.  I'm not here by accident.

We reconvene as a group and do our "buddy check" as the weather turns from drizzle to downpour.  Many in the group bought cheap umbrellas in Lindau, and some were cost and space conscious and bought plastic ponchos, which look like 30 gallon garbage bags with  hoods.  Awesome!  Bev and Charlie and Mike and his wife Harri are all walking around in their rain splattered ponchos laughing and joking and I didn't get a pic of that, darn it.   This foursome consistently has us cracking up.  Stephen never wears a jacket and he's too cool for an umbrella or garbage bag, plus he has his leather sandals on as always, so he gets drenched.  He's unflappable however and he just gets more animated.  Love it! 

Soon we arrive in Laterbrunnen, Switzerland.  It’s magical.  I pass signs pointing to Zurich and I think of Andy, the guy I sat by on the plane to Amsterdam.  He was heading to Zurich to hike alone in the Alps, and I was wishing I’d get to see him again; he was so ambitious and fun.  I hope Andy is safe and his dreams are coming true.  I worry that he didn't have warm enough clothes, but that's the mom in me, always protective.

Upon arrival to our destination, we board this fast moving bright yellow train.  It’s different from anything I’ve ever seen in the US and I love it immediately.  Everybody is laughing and smiling.  We are happy!  The train jostles us around while we take in the view, which is amazing.  The air is crisp and clean.  When the train stops, Stephen shows us on a big map where we are.  He takes care to point out a town called Mannlichen, which he thought the dirty minded folks would appreciate.  I do.  He keeps us prepared and oriented.  Of course I am disoriented, but whatever, he's not a magician. 

Soon we arrive at Hotel Faulken in Wengen, which is even more amazing.  A wonderful family runs it and we get settled in quickly.  I carry my 38 pound backpack up the stairs to the 3^rd floor and can’t get my door unlocked with the old fashioned brass key.  I try and try and can’t figure it out.  It strikes me as funny and new, and I laugh.  This is just plain fun.  Even the door locks are an adventure!  The door eventually opens sort of by accident and my room is incredible.  I have two beds with giant white duvets and a window that opens to a spectacular green vista with cottages in the foreground and the Swiss Alps in the background.  There are no screens so I open the windows wide and stick my head out.  Incredible!  Maybe I’ll sleep in both beds, just for the hell of it.  Why not?

We meet downstairs, and everybody is excited.  Stephen tells us about the plans and many activities we can choose from tomorrow.  Steve asks how many people want to take the gondola to Kleine Scheidegg and do an easy hike?  Everybody does, I think, but they don't trust his description of "easy."   There are more options and we hear about them all.  That night we share dinner in the dining room starting with a cheese fondue tasting.  It was so delish. Had we only had more and more and more fondue, we’d all have been more and more and more happy.  Yum!  But we are happy anyway. 

The next morning after we pull ourselves out from under our duvets (which some found too hot) we rise early for adventure day. We stick together like super glue now, like family.  We train to Kleine Scheidegg and the hike is fun and so Stephen gets a brownie point. We get the option afterwards to spend 110 Euro to venture higher into the Jungfrau the “Top of Europe.”  I am feeling cheap so I decide not to go.  Carl Jung, the Swiss psychologist and psychiatrist, pops into my mind.  I think about his theoretical concepts, and decide that the combination of Jung and Jungfrau is some sort of sign to me, and that I should permit myself to enter into my Jungian place of introversion for a few hours.  All the extroverts go LOL!  Most have a great time, but some wind up suffering a little from the wind chill and altitude.  Still everyone seemed glad for the experience.

I head back down on the train and into town with Cindy and Johnny, and it’s a bit of a ghost town.  Primarily there are empty restaurants and athletic stores.  We eat some weird food, not too memorable.  There was mayo and mustard in big tubes, like toothpaste.  Hopefully we will get a good dinner.  That night we aren’t disappointed, when we share a buffet dinner feast.  Holy cow, these people can COOK!  Tonight more duvet, then off to Munich!

Yah, OKTOBERFEST!

Sept 22-23 - MUNICH!

OKTOBERFEST!!!

It’s been a wild couple of days, so I didn’t have time to write. We just left Munich, Germany where it was Oktoberfest. Holy cow folks, what a party scene. At the U-Bahn train station full of thousands of partiers in costume, various states of sobriety (or not) with an equally unparalleled drive to get to the fairgrounds, I had my first WOW moment of the tour, and knew we were in for an interesting experience.  We stayed at Hotel Ibis, which was modern and had nicely engineered plumbing (finally!)


Munich has an incredible public transportation system with busses, subways and trains, not to mention a gazillion German engineered cars. But the party people don’t drive, don’t need to, so believe me when I say: THEY PARTY. There are 8 enormous “beer tents” (not a tent as you know it) which holds approx 6000 people each. Some are 3 stories high. There, people book a seat at a table where they can order liters of German beer of all kinds, no limit, for about 9 euro each (about $12.) Several of the guys in our group had 2-4 liters. Some of the women had 1-2 liters. Me, not liking beer, merely posed for beer drinking photos, with the beer as a prop! When we get to Italy, I’ll be in my element, thank you very much! The winner was Kevin, coming in at about 4.5 liters if I'm not mistaken.  That seems impossible, but folks, it happened.  Stephen didn't do too bad himself.  It should be an interesting morning.  Heather had the good fortune to get groped in a beer hall.  Go Heather!  It's all in good fun.

I didn't get into a beer hall.  Have to go next year I guess!  At the fairgrounds you will find the hugest array of carnival rides you’ve ever seen in your life, hands down. Many are possibly German engineered (I'm  making that up) and death defying, I kid you not! There are hundreds of outdoor food stands, most grilling every kind of sausage you can envision, and baking breads, nuts, pastries, and more sausage of course. For 3 euro you can get a foot long grilled sausage served with German mustard on a freshly baked ciabatta type roll (no hot dog buns there) and it’s piping hot. The aromas are amazing. At one stand you smell spicy sweet peppery German sausage, at the next you smell butter and cinnamon and yeast, and at the next you smell all kinds of varieties of nuts coated in dozens of different ways, freshly prepared and served warm to you in a paper cone.


All around you are people in costume, singing, swaying, reveling, mobbing to get to the beer tents, stopping to enjoy street musicians, young men in lederhosen ogling the hundreds of sexy fraulein who all dress like a provocative German and Austrian bar and milkmaids, including 3 to 4 inch heels and cleavage that knows no bounds. Lots of people bring their children, without fear. You see no security people around, and yet there is no public unrest or danger (except stepping in vomit, but I only saw that in the train station.)


I’m so short that I get lost easily in such a crowd, not only because I’m short, but because well, I just get lost. Stephen led a few of us around thank heavens, and he’s very tall so I could usually see him above the people that staggered between us as we pushed our way to get our sausage and see the spectacle. I had to do the puppy thing to keep up.  One of the beer halls (3 stories high) is called "Nymphenburg Sext" on it, which strikes me funny and I take a pic to show my nephew.  I tell Jude it's the porn tent.

Towards the end of the evening, our group meets in the hotel bar for MORE beer and mixed drinks and wine, because we need to "fit in" with the locals and all the other drunks.  There are lots of crazy party hats being worn.  Stephen appreciates the "whole new level of swagger" we saw on Ken with his party hat.  Ken does look pretty happy and Sue is looking at him adoringly.  I feel warmed by that.  So delightful. 

I am at the bar with Brenda and commit a PARTY FOUL by knocking her glass of wine over and shattering the glass!  Nobody seems to care, and Brenda (who looks like a naughty fraulein in the photo I take of her) laughs it off and suggests I get another drink.  I do :)

The morning of the first day, Stephen took us on a walking tour, and we ended at the Glockenspiel in Marienplatz.  The Glockenspiel is a huge medieval looking building that wows us.  I think for sure I can't get lost with this kind of landmark.  I was wrong of course, but you know, always hoping.  We had the day to ourselves, and we divided up into two groups.  The majority went to the Oktoberfest opening parade, and a smaller group (which I joined) went to the Dachau Concentration Camp.  Most found the Camp very moving, but I was in a weird head space and got bored.  I know, I know, shameful.  Some of the other group got bored with the parade after 45 mins, so in the end, it all added up equally.  I think everybody was just ready for a beer hall.

We toured the Residenz Museum, which is a kind of ornate palace.  It sure looks different than my place back in Oregon.  There are scary bouncers in each room.  Nicole tries to merely touch a piece of furniture, and an androgenous she-man comes immediately to scold her.  Yikes!  I take photos of fancy ceilings and Latin signs.  One of them says:  Obedientia Civivm which means "Obediently Civil" in English.  Come on Nicole, can't you read the signs?  Get it together!

One of the nights, I forget, I think the first night, we are walking around the town or something....(blur) and everyone wants to go to dinner but it's pretty crowded with the festival in town.  I'm not really interested in food, I'm kinda fooded out by now.  Stephen has to run an errand to a luggage store so he lets me (literally) run with him for something different to do.  After that we try and join our group at a restaurant but it's too crowded, and we wind up at a table for two.  There are a gazillion people in there and it's a party atmosphere, with  good food.  Very cheerful.  We had a really good dinner together, me wedged in a corner and kind of glad that there were only people in front of me and not surrounding me like the way it's been most of the time.  The dinner event was actually very special for me, as it's very hard to get a quiet moment to get to know Stephen, and to just talk.  He wants me to try his beer and gives me a taste of his dinner.  The food is good and I really enjoy the time together and mark it off as one of my highlights.


Ok students, that’s your Oktoberfest lesson. Next stop: Venice, Italy . I’m Italian, so buckle up.