London, Paris, Jordan (as in Michael), and Rome 2023!
London and Paris, Plus Thoughts on Super Bowl LVIII
Welcome to my 34th Newsletter Friends!
While it seems it was ages ago when it all began, this series is a continuation of the last few newsletters titled London, LeBron, Paris, and Rome 2010. Looking back, I find it interesting that the two greatest basketball players of all time found their way into both of my European vacations and have each given me my funny story for each of the newsletters.
As more Americans than ever are traveling to Europe, I thought it would be good to offer you, my dear readers, two accounts of travel to the same destinations with the same travel company, Insight Vacations, taken at very different periods in my life. My first trip was in 2010 when I had a nine-year-old restaurant and my second was in July 2023 with my nine-year-old son!
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” -Mark Twain
As the funds from the sale of my house in Cleveland began to dry up, I decided to take what was left after buying my house here in Midleton and taking three years off from working to dedicate myself fully to motherhood and writing, and splurge on a whirlwind tour of Europe.
Given the high cost of living in Ireland and the limitations of work, being a single parent and a chef, I knew I would never be able to afford a trip like this again. More importantly, Ari was the perfect age for travel, in that he was not yet embarrassed holding my hand, wasn’t yet glued to a device, and was still genuinely excited about absolutely everything!
Having traveled with Insight Vacations 13 years earlier, I was a bit nervous that Ari would be the only child and would be bored out of his mind at the fancy dinners and that he might be whining or complaining on the guided tours. Imagine my surprise to see many other children, including two other boys Ari’s age! Perhaps in this post-pandemic climate, parents aren’t so quick to leave the kiddos behind.
Journal Entry
March 20th 2023
First Day of Spring!
Wonderful St.Patrick’s Day and Mother’s Day weekend. I posted our good fortune on Substack on Friday, St.Patrick’s Day, announcing to my readers that we have received PERMISSION TO REMAIN! Oddly, I ended up publishing at 3:33 AM, and crazy enough the post talks about how lucky the number three has been for me!
So, I bought an Irish Lotto ticket at random and there were a lot of threes on my ticket, so by Wednesday we will know if I’m a millionaire! And, oh would that be nice, because I just did something CRAZY! I booked a European trip to London, Paris and Rome. I am so excited to take Ari while he still has that spirit of awe and still doesn’t mind being with his mommy, even holding her hand once in a while! On Mother’s Day, he brought me breakfast in the bath! Much better and more luxurious than breakfast in bed! He made me a nice card with pop-up and pull-down hearts!
So I’m not gonna lie, this is scary letting my money run out, but I promised Ari I’d take him to see the Eiffel Tower by the time he was five, and well, with Covid and everything that’s happened since, including surrendering our passports to the Irish Government in 2020, we’re a little behind. And now that we have our passports back, I decided it’s now or never considering the volatile state of the world, the escalating wars, the high rate of inflation, and the risk of another pandemic as well as the effects of global warming.
I think it’s incredibly important for Ari to see these great cities, historical monuments, and artistic masterpieces like Michaelangelo’s Sistine Chapel and everything in Musee d’Orsay, the Louvre, and the Vatican. I think I will take him to see his father too, whom he hasn’t seen in person since his 3rd birthday! Flights from Rome to Tirana, Albania are really cheap and only an hour and a half. From there, it’s only a two-hour drive from Pristina, Kosovo. Ari is the perfect age too, to meet all of his relatives.
And yes! This will put us in a bit of financial trouble, but I own this house and I can borrow against it if it comes to it. And yes! I’ve just chewed the insides of my mouth with nervousness! Ari is going to learn how to be an even better little traveler this summer and Mommy’s gonna learn how to pack lighter than ever before! How funny that I will likely be packing some of the same clothes I wore 13 years ago, my Chico’s Traveler Collection!
London, England
Journal Entry
June 27th, 2023
On board the Eurostar with Ari as our group tour officially kicks off. We flew into London at 8:40 am after waking at 3:30 am for a 7:20 am flight that only cost €100 each. Thank God for Blanka, who picked us up at 4:45 and got us to Cork airport at 5:15. I had no intention of burdening anyone with this, but when I called every cab company in East Cork a few days ahead, no one had a driver that would work that early on a Sunday morning. So, no more Sunday flights for us!
Ari and I braved London’s Underground and found our way to our Park Plaza Victoria Hotel. With only one day to explore, we headed out for our Hop-On Hop-Off Big Bus Tour and saw a lot of the wealthier side of town. Next was the London Eye followed by a River Cruise to the Tower of London.
Ari scored a LemonAde Prime, a drink that’s not available in Ireland and that was the highlight of the trip for him so far! Too funny! I promised him two souvenirs, a Liverpool jersey and some new studs (soccer shoes) and after some lovely fish and chips, we walked and walked until we finally came across a Sports Direct. Exhausted after shopping, we hopped in one of those iconic black cabs and headed back to the hotel.
One day in London is such a tease and it wasn’t really a part of the tour but we live so close, we can just pop back over anytime. I would love to see a play next time and Ari would love to see a football match. I hope there’s a late-night flight back to Ireland because a hotel room in London is a fortune!
Paris, France
It’s true, Paris is for lovers, but I would not say my time there with Ari was wasted, far from it, but it was not at all like my first trip! On my first trip to Paris, I walked with eyes and arms open, asking, begging to be swept up and seduced by art, by food and wine, by the sights and the sounds. I walked instinctively in the paths of great writers and artists, and deliberately took up some of their bad habits, like smoking and drinking way too much. I even hooked up with a stranger I met in the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe! We had both just missed the cut-off time to take the stairs to the observation deck so we climbed the next best thing, each other! (Just terrible, I know!)
Paris was different with Ari. It reminded me of a Chuck Profit song, Pin a Rose on Me, and the lyrics, “You saw light, I saw a freight train coming. I tried to tell you he was no damn good. You heard bells, I heard the hammer falling. He ran you down like I knew he would.” That was the 52-year-old talking to the 40-year-old. Paris didn’t change, I did. In the 12 years I’d been away I acquired self-worth, something to live for and someone to protect. My arms that had once been outstretched, hands holding a cigarette and glass of wine were now clutching my son and my purse as we walked the streets of Paris that suddenly felt dangerous.
Sadly we never made it to the Louvre or d’Orsay, which I thoroughly enjoyed last time, instead, we did a foodie walking tour where we sampled treats from a variety of patisseries, boulangeries, and chocolatiers. When the tour ended Ari and I did some exploring on our own and found ourselves in awe on the grounds of the Notre Dame Cathedral four years into the massive restoration following the tragic blaze in April 2019.
As temperatures in Paris climbed to 100 degrees, we were happy to see a lot of the sights, like the Champs-Élysées, Arc de Triomphe, and Les Invalides, from our air-conditioned coach, stopping only briefly for a bit of oral history from local tour guides and an opportunity to take photos. The cooler evenings were tailor-made for short walks to fabulous cafes to dine outside and an unforgettable river cruise that was incredibly scenic and special.
The highlight for us was dinner and a show at the Moulin Rouge, the most famous cabaret in the world, a Paris institution with 60 dancers and entertainers and over a thousand costumes, all very provocative! My love and intrigue began long before my first trip there in 2010, with the mesmerizing paintings of one of my favorite artists, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrek. To the best of my knowledge, the first nude dancers my son has seen were at the Moulin Rouge. I hope that this ruins cheap internet porn for him and sets the bar high for what he will consider adult entertainment!
To Be Continued!
Funny Story…Well, now it is!
The Last Métro (For a While Anyway!)
We arrived in Paris earlier than expected and since Ari and I began our tour in London we did not need to join all the newcomers in the lobby at 5 pm for an orientation and to discuss plans for Paris. I would have liked to have taken a nap but Ari reminded me that I was four years late in my promise to take him to see the Eiffel Tower, and he wanted to see it now!
Ari learned at six years old how fragile the world can be, and that everything can change in an instant. What I lost during Covid, he lost too. So, leaving nothing to chance, we hopped in a taxi and headed directly to the Eiffel Tower even though we had plans to see it that evening on a river cruise with our tour group after our welcome dinner.
Along the way, Ari spotted a Christian Dior store and went completely mental! He was so excited he asked me if we could just hop out there. Having never known my son to be into French Couture, I was absolutely baffled. My curiosity got the best of me and I tried to get the driver’s attention to stop, but he was on his phone and also did not speak English. Ari was practically in tears, craning his neck to see what he could as we passed the boutique. I said we could go there on the way back and then demanded to know how he even knew about Christan Dior and what he could possibly want that was suddenly more important than seeing the Eiffel Tower that he’d been waiting years to see!
“The Air Jordan I!” he exclaimed. Thinking for a moment that I knew more than he did, I told him he was mistaken and explained that Christian Dior was not a sporting goods store, but a French fashion boutique selling high-end designer clothes and accessories. He wouldn’t hear of it and we both lost interest in arguing as the Eiffel Tower came into view!
Turns out, the Air Jordan I is an ultra-limited edition pair of sneakers, created in a collaboration between Nike’s Jordan brand and Christian Dior. Made entirely in Italy with white and Dior gray Italian leather, with an oblique monogrammed swoosh, hand-painted edges, and Air Jordan’s famous Wings logo, the luxurious shoes pay homage to both legendary and iconic brands. So, after taking an hour or so to breathe in the sights and sounds of the most iconic landmark on Earth, we headed to see Earth’s most iconic tennis shoe!
I had taken the Métro on my last trip to Paris and did not recall having any difficulty. Traveling alone, however, there is no pressure. The time of arrival and destination of choice can be left to chance and you’re never really lost if no one else knew where you were trying to go! I figured I would brave it again because I felt that I should show my son that we were missing a lot of the true character of the city being chauffeured around in a huge air-conditioned bus.
Looking at the schedule, I saw that the train we needed was departing in 3 minutes. There were ticket windows but no one seemed to be working inside them so we headed toward the automated machine where a father and child were struggling to understand how to make a purchase. The father looked back at me, desperate for help, but he spoke no English, and glancing at the screen, I remembered that I did not know French. Realizing that we weren’t the only ones behind him, he gave up and moved aside, pulling his young daughter with him.
Stepping up quickly to the machine, it looked to be in the middle of his transaction, although there was no way of me knowing because everything was in French and there was no option for any other language that I could see. I’d never been under more pressure in my life, and as a chef, that is saying a lot! There we were in the busiest Métro station in Paris, maybe even the world, with a line forming behind us of agitated riders anxious to make the next train and just a minute left to catch ours.
Instead of stepping aside or even taking a breath, I hit some buttons in sheer panic and fed the machine my credit card with sweaty, trembling hands, and in return, the machine spit out more tickets than I had anticipated. I grabbed them and Ari and I dashed for the turnstiles.
A woman, who was next in line behind us yelled, “Miss! Miss!” and when I turned around she was handing me a final ticket that I had left in the machine in my haste. I assumed it was a receipt and I put it in my pocket with all the extra tickets I had accidentally purchased.
I felt deflated that we had missed the train we were trying to catch because I just wasn’t sure it was the right one. This feeling only lasted a minute, because I quickly realized that these trains run every 6 or so minutes. So all of that rushing and stressing was unnecessary. Thankfully, this gave me time to double-check the exit we needed for the Dior store.
The train was completely full when it arrived and Ari and I barely had space to grip a pole when we crammed our way to the center. Before arriving at our stop, we had a nice conversation with an old man living in Paris originally from Italy, despite having to split my attention with would-be pickpockets!
I was feeling good that Ari and I shared that experience as we exited the train, but then we came upon a scary sight. Six or seven men and women dressed in black and grey uniforms, looking like riot police without helmets or shields, stood shoulder to shoulder blocking us, and the rest of the departing passengers from exiting the station. They were holding what looked like elongated credit card machines and I thought they were scanning IDs and passports, looking to catch a dangerous fugitive. They were so stern and I quickly learned by watching others that they were scanning train tickets and I fumbled with my pocket full of them as one of the scarier-looking women shoved the scanner at me and yelled something in French.
I was sweating profusely again, holding everyone up. I kept saying, “I don’t know which ticket it was, just take them all, we won’t be needing them. The woman became outraged as she discovered that I had used 2 children’s tickets for Ari and me. She grabbed her radio and reported us to whatever authority she worked for and I could tell from her demeanor she was quite proud of herself for catching my mistake! She looked us up and down like we were the scum of the Earth as she spoke French angrily into her radio and waited for each reply.
I took this opportunity to appeal to a kinder-looking officer, restating that this was an accident and that I bought too many tickets and did not know which was which. I offered them all to her and it appeared that she did try to reason with her fellow officer, but that only irritated her more.
“Passport!” she shouted. My heart sank and I looked at Ari who had put our passports in the hotel safe before we headed out. He started to tear up, thinking he had done something wrong. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.
“ID!” She held her hand out motioning with her fingers to speed it up.
I gave her my Irish Residency card. She barely looked at it and then she turned the credit card toward me saying, “You pay! You pay now! Credit card!”
I said, “I paid! I paid already! Take all of these tickets! Please!”
She was like a ticking time bomb. She clenched her jaw, turned her face sideways then back at me narrowing her eyes and stretching her arms out fully with that machine. The screen said something in French followed by a number that looked like €35,000. My legs gave out. I was instantly sick to my stomach and upon seeing me, Ari started balling his eyes out. I grabbed him and backed away from her, pulling him several feet away and just as I was about to crouch down to hug him she stepped between us and held her arm out to stop Ari from getting close to me and she yelled, “CREDIT CARD! NOW!”
I was crying now, saying “Accident! Mistake! Please, I don’t have that kind of money.” I was starting to think that this was an organized crime operation merely dressed up as police. She shook her head furiously pushing the credit card machine at me and separating me from Ari. It was all too much. Ari crying, her screaming at me in French, me not understanding what she was saying, what I was being charged and how on Earth we deserved this much abuse for a simple mistake. Feeling there was no way out, I inserted my card.
She backed off, disappearing into the crowd the second my card was approved, and Ari and I charged out of the station, hand in hand feeling traumatized. Once outside I let out a slew of vulgarity and then kneeled and hugged Ari tightly, apologizing to him for everything. When we finally felt safe and calm, I took my phone and tried to see what the charge was on my credit card, but my phone was about to die after taking so many pictures and videos at the Eiffel Tower, so I was left to fret about it for the rest of the day. I knew to save the last bit of charge to call a taxi because I was never going near that Metro again!
We found the Christian Dior store and a man in a tuxedo greeted us at the door which had handles that looked like they were made from crushed diamonds! Ari found none of this intimidating and when asked if we needed help finding anything, he asked to see the Dior Jordans. They rang for a representative from the shoe department to meet us and a woman looking like a supermodel appeared who escorted us downstairs while explaining to Ari that most of the Dior Jordans were in America, but that she could show him other shoes he might like. He did a great job pretending that we might actually be the kind of people who could spend thousands of euros on a pair of runners, but that he was gonna hold out for the $25,000 Jordans!
Back at the hotel Ari and I had a great laugh and much-needed relief. It turns out the French use commas instead of decimal points and they put the Euro sign after the currency amount. So when presented with a figure of 35,00€ in a situation that feels like extortion, one expects only the worst, but it turned out to only be €35. thankfully, mercifully. Still, that kind of treatment is unacceptable and in doing a bit of research for this newsletter, I found that it is quite common. Sadly, it does a lot to reinforce the stereotype about the rudeness of the French, which is why I will end with this quote:
“Instead of being presented with stereotypes by age, sex, color, class or religion, children must have the opportunity to learn that within each range some people are loathsome and some are delightful.” -Margaret Mead
And Finally…
This past summer, many articles were written warning Americans traveling to Europe to expect long lines, delays, and cancellations and to look out for heatwaves, droughts, floods, and forest fires. There were also wars raging, protests erupting, and acts of extreme violence and terrorism unfolding. Naturally, several people asked me, mostly Americans, “Aren’t you scared to travel to Europe with all that is going on over there?” My response? “I’d be more scared traveling into a gas station after dark in any major city in America!”
However, having lived in Ireland for 3 1/2 years now, there have been so many instances where Ari and I have been stopped in our joyful tracks and had our hearts filled with nostalgia. In these moments we experience a sudden urge to be back in America, among family and friends and we must pause and wonder if we made the right decision moving here. There is always a bit of sadness and the feeling that something is missing every Thanksgiving, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day, but missing the Super Bowl after an always-crushing Cleveland Browns season is just as heartbreaking!
For the past few years, Ari and I have made due, watching YouTubers livestream themselves watching and commenting on the Superbowl because they cannot show it. This year it simply started way too late for us to stay up and watch on a school night, but it did not stop us from betting on the game. When I tucked Ari in at night we agreed that if the Forty-Niners won, he’d clean the house top to bottom, and if Kansas City won, I’d have to buy him an NFL jersey. When the alarm clock went off at 6 am, we both jumped out of bed and asked Siri who won. Ari jumped up and down and wasted no time at all searching for his prize on Amazon!
We kept meaning to find a way to watch a rebroadcast of the Super Bowl but never got around to it. I admit, I wasted an hour or two of my life watching the commercials and the half-time show on YouTube. It’s just not the same. The Super Bowl is an event that is best enjoyed with family, preferably at whoever’s house has the biggest TV! It’s about Buffalo chicken wings and beer, Ruffles potato chips, Doritos, pizza, and Pepsi! Kids in their favorite team's jerseys tackling one another in front of the TV during the commercials and adults shushing them and struggling to hear every word of every ad knowing it will be the next morning’s topic of every conversation.
I honestly don’t remember any Super Bowl halftime shows before Michael Jackson’s 1993 performance, which knocked my socks off. Watching it now though, it’s just creepy seeing him surrounded by children and putting his hands on several. Perhaps I am just not familiar enough with Usher’s music, but I did not feel his performance was on par with the likes of Prince, U2, Shakira, and Jennifer Lopez or my favorite, Lady Gaga!
Later that week, a fellow American expat visited me at my food trailer. Ari was off from school that day and was working with me. My friend mentioned the Super Bowl and Ari and I excitedly told her about our bet and that we’d seen the commercials and the half-time show but that we were still trying to find a way to watch a rebroadcast of the game. She looked confused. “Oh! I guess you haven’t heard,” she said forcing a smile. Eyeing Ari, she suggested that maybe I should just google it later.
I remembered scanning the headlines that morning. The Irish Mirror had said something about Patrick Mahomes and Kansas City Chiefs players paying tribute to some shooting victims and the sad thing is, it didn’t even strike me as odd and I never bothered to read on.
As soon as she left, I grabbed my phone and was so horrified at the headlines and the videos, that I just covered my mouth and shook my head. Ari asked what happened and I just hugged him tightly and repeated the last headline that I had read, “Chief’s Super Bowl parade leaves one dead and 21 injured including children.”
When the next customer appeared, an older Irish lady, she knew something was wrong and asked us if we were ok. I told her as I released Ari from my embrace, that we had just found out about the mass shooting at the Super Bowl parade. She said, “I just don’t understand why Americans just continue hurting each other and killing each other over such small disagreements or dissatisfactions.”
Her choice of words gave me pause; “Hurting each other…” and “dissatisfactions.” They articulated the pettiness of American rage so perfectly.
I replied, “Because they are armed, and it’s easier to pull a trigger than to bite your tongue, walk away, or figure out a solution.” And just like that, pining for America ends just as suddenly as it began and we return to our joyful selves, feeling so lucky to live in Ireland. Still, my heart breaks into a thousand pieces every time something like this happens. And I know, I know, I know, I said I’d stop writing about it, but I can’t. I’m sorry!
Thank You for Being Here with Me My Friends!
Cheers!
Bridget
Thank you for sharing, what a great read! I love your life! Cheers girlfriend!💚
I enjoyed that Bridget, thank you. I was at an American Football game today in UCD and I know they happen in other parts of the country too. Given that you'd understand what was actually happening, unlike me, I hope you and Ari get to go one day soon.