April in Paris 2011

My cellphone rang as we were leaving the house to head for the airport. It was a Southwest recording telling me my flight from Oakland to LAX was cancelled. After scrambling on the Internet for other flight options, it was evident there were none that would get me to LAX in time for my Aeroflot flight to Moscow, so Bruce decided to drive me there. What is normally a five to six hour drive ended up being a four-hour one as we flew down the Valley at 80 mph with our radar detector clearing the way. I got there with two hours to spare.

After a few days of visiting family in Moscow, April and I boarded the Aeroflot flight to London. We sat next to James, a 27 year old soccer recruiter who travels the world looking for young, future soccer greats. His identical twin, John, works in finance in Moscow and moved there 7 months ago. April pointed out to me that James had one green eye and one brown, something I had not even noticed. He played hangman and tic tac toe with us on the way to London. He was taking a few days off to attend the Grand National horse race taking place this weekend. Later, we read that two horses died during that race.

When we landed in London, I had to make a choice between a 50 pound cab ride (about $75 US) or the underground. Since it wasn’t very busy at Heathrow, I decided to venture on the Tube. The only difficult part is the lack of elevators, so when you leave or transfer, it’s bump, bump, bump up the stairs as you haul your luggage. But the price was right – only five pounds for me and free for April, and she was a real trouper hauling her own luggage up the many steps to ground level. After walking a few blocks, we found our modest little Thistle Hotel and settled in, deciding to have dinner at the hotel restaurant. The food was excellent, and we had an exhilarating two-hour conversation, anticipating what the days ahead would be like. April is very intense for a ten-year old, and I had to remind myself that she wasn’t an adult.

The next morning, we found the British Museum, a repository of artifacts on ancient civilizations. We spent most of our time at the Egyptian mummy section as I wondered how many of the items were confiscated by England rather than donated by Egypt. I discovered later that the Rosetta Stone was there, and we had totally missed it.

In the afternoon, we transferred to our hotel for the next three nights, the Cumberland in Central London, right across from the Marble Arch at the entrance to Hyde Park, a very busy area. The Cumberland looks psychedelic, with its muted colors and quirky metal sculptures. It’s famous for being the last known address of Jimi Hendrix, and we even got a maid to open up his fifth-floor room so we could take a picture of its wild, colorful décor.

The rest of the day was spent shopping, as the Cumberland is right around the corner from Oxford St, a mile long collection of little shops and department stores. April came out looking like a miniature of John Lennon, with her black shoes and pants, little black and white blouse, big round sunglasses and her long chestnut hair framing her face. She looked at me with her shades on and said, “Babushka, I just love London!”

That night, we went to Prizzo, an Italian restaurant right across from the hotel. We were the first ones there and it was a delightful oasis from the noisy streets outside. One wall consisted of about fifty candles, all in individual enclosures so the entire wall lit up. The cuisine was what I called California Mediterranean, light and colorful. By the time we left a couple hours later, the restaurant was totally filled. We headed back to our room and watched Jack Black in “The School of Rock” before drifting off to sleep.

We met up with our group the next morning. It consisted of mostly couples, a young woman by herself, and the standard small cluster of women traveling together from Australia. The group also included Germans, Americans, Chinese and Japanese. We were to take a morning city tour, but seeing that Westminster Abbey wasn’t crowded, we jumped off the bus there. London is all “abuzz” with the royal wedding of Kate and Prince William to take place at the Abbey later this month. Preparations are already under way for it and you could see sections set up for the massive media representation that will be there. As an American, it’s difficult to get caught up in it. I also picked that attitude up from several Londoners.

From the Abbey, we walked down Parliament Avenue past mounted guards standing motionless as crowds of tourists jostled to have their pictures taken with them. At Trafalgar Square, April climbed up on one of the lions so I could take her picture. Years ago, it was fun to run into the hundreds of pigeons feeding at the square and listen to the propeller sounds of their wings beating as they struggled together for liftoff to the sky. Now, there are only a few paltry pigeons because they use predator birds to keep them away. Trafalgar is still a great central meeting place for the city, but I miss the pigeons.

In the afternoon, we headed over to Hyde Park to watch literally thousands of people sunning themselves on the vast expanse of what used to be the king’s hunting grounds. Royalty continues to have a pretty good life in England, but a cab driver I spoke to said it is changing. Common Londoners particularly are questioning why they should support a royal life style that doesn’t really do anything for them. The wedding is a diversion, but the discontent continues and is growing. Even the ferris wheel we took a ride on had the wedding advertised on each car, I suppose a form of royal marketing.

We went to see “The Lion King” at the Lyceum in the evening. The Lyceum dates back to the 18^th century and was the first London theater to feature gas lighting. Bram Stoker, the author of “Dracula,” was business manager of the theater in the late 1800’s. It’s an older, intimate theater imploding with character. The opening number of “The Lion King” featured giraffes, monkeys, lions, birds, natives coming down the aisles and from all sides of the stage simultaneously. The lyrics were written by Elton John and the cast was outstanding. It was a sold-out performance and made me want to come back to London for a theater vacation. April had seen the movie so was familiar with the music, which made it even more enjoyable for her.

Instead of taking a cab ride home, we hopped on a bicycle carriage for two operated by a slender Indian man in his twenties. It took about 25 minutes to get to our hotel, but it was a great way to see London nightlife. I learned a valuable lesson – always ask the fare before you take the ride. It was 60 pounds, versus a cab ride which would have run about 25. But I guess you pay for experience. In his favor, by the time the driver reached the Cumberland, he was sweating profusely, so he earned every bit of the fare.

The next morning, we headed out to the Chunnel to cross the English Channel to Paris. It only takes a couple of hours, and it was refreshing to leave the traffic and noise of London for a winding train ride through the French countryside. Arriving in Paris, we checked in to the Pullman, which is no more than 1/8 of a mile from the Eiffel Tower. In fact, our room was on the Tower side and we had a little balcony where we could go out and watch the Eiffel at night. Every hour on the hour, the lights sparkle off and on quickly, a stunning light show.

The next morning, April and I went to Notre Dame and to the Louvre, which I thought might be uninteresting to her, but she was really into it, particularly the floor with Roman mythological statues, which she seemed to know a lot about. We were able to get some good pictures of the Venus de Milo and Mona Lisa, despite the hordes of people around them. We followed up our visit to the Louvre with lunch outside in the Tulleries Garden, watching everyone meander by as they enjoyed a beautiful, sunny afternoon in Paris.

One of the few downsides of the city are the waiters. They could learn a lot from the English about giving good service, but they seem to think foreigners expect them to be rude, so they try to live up to that expectation. But if you focus on the beauty of Paris and the good food and wine, the waiters seem of little consequence.

After lunch, we took a taxi to the Arch de Triumph and hung out on the Champs de Elysses, watching the breakdancers and shell game artists zeroing in on the throngs of tourists walking by. We passed up going to Montmarte that evening due to the weather and went to the aquarium opposite the Eiffel Tower instead. On our last evening in Paris, we ate at a small, local restaurant and sat by the window so we could see passersby outside. We watched a very strange lady in her 30’s dressed like a flower child of the sixties in the US. She sat on a bus stop bench opposite us, talking to herself and looking in our direction. We tried to avoid eye contact, as I’m not sure what she would have done if she thought we were looking at her. She reminded me of the off-kilter homeless people on the streets of San Francisco.

The next morning, our tour guide took us to Orly Airport to catch an Alitalia flight to Rome. Leonardo da Vinci Airport is extremely busy, so it took us a while to get our group back together for the forty-minute bus ride to Rome. Our hotel, the Boscolo, was right down the street from Trevi Fountain, where Anita Ekberg was filmed frolicking in Fellini’s masterpiece, “La Dolce Vita.” The next day, we were fortunate to have a retired history professor as our tour guide for the trip to the Vatican and the Colisseum area. Rome almost reminded me of Moscow, except Rome has much narrower streets and of course, the ruins that date back to 2000 years or more. St Peters Square was once the site of the circus of Caligula and Nero. The church and the government seem all wrapped up together in Rome, something I also sensed in Spain. The Vatican is a very powerful entity, with vast real estate holdings and some of the most valuable art and artifacts in the world.

There are 16 obelisks in Rome, taken from Egypt when Rome conquered it in 50 AD. Rome seems like an odd mixture of old ruins and attempts to modernize. It’s the only city where I thought being a pedestrian was more dangerous than Moscow. We walked around the city the next day, spending some time at the Spanish steps, a fan-like stairway that dates back to 1722. It’s where the young people hang out in throngs and socialize.

Our tour group met for dinner that night at a restaurant that served a seven-course dinner including soup, squash, olives, eggplant, chicken, pork, tomatoes, pasta in cream sauce, honey right on a honeycomb, a variety of sweet pastries, and lots of red wine. The food just kept on coming and coming. We were serenaded by a smiling man with a Spanish guitar who could sing to everyone in their native language. When he got to April, he sang an old Russian folk song and she sang along. I had heard it in Moscow, but had no idea of which one it was. She was smiling from ear to ear as she sang along with him. It was a wonderful evening and a great finale to our tour as the group prepared to go their separate ways the next day.

On our last day in Rome, April and I took a side tour to the catacombs on the outskirts of the city. You take the Appian Way to get there. I remember reading about the Appian Way when I was in Latin class and I always wanted to see it. It’s the most famous Roman road and dates back to 312 B.C. It’s also where the rebellious slaves from the revolt of Spartacus were crucified.

The underground catacombs were originally family burial plots, but around 150 A.D., their newly converted Christian owners opened them to anyone who was of the faith. There are 40 known catacombs and they suspect even more lie in wait to be discovered. These labyrinths were dug out of the soft, volcanic tufo rock in the area.

Contrary to what we’ve been told, they weren’t used by Christians for hiding from the Romans. They were simply a place for the Christians to bury their dead and perform Christian rites, as you can tell from the Christian symbols carved into the rock, e.g. doves, crosses, fish, lambs. I thought April might not like going into the dark, damp tunnels, but no problem. She was like a little sponge soaking up history as she walked through the labyrinth.

Our last night in Rome we went to a small restaurant talked away on a side-street. We had seen in at lunchtime and the manager was out on the street trying to lure in customers. I told him we would be back in the evening. Thinking it was a place where the natives probably went, because it was hard to find, we were ready for a real treat. Imagine our surprise when we discovered all the customers were American or German.

The next morning, we headed to the airport for our Alitalia flight to Moscow. For the last ten days, we had sampled London, Paris and Rome. Doing all three famous cities in such a short time gave us a chance to think about the differences and similarities. But we both agreed that with all we had seen, the highlight of the trip was being able to step out of our hotel room onto the balcony and have our personal Eiffel Tower right in front of us, almost as if it was sparkling just for April and me.