This is one of my favorite stories to tell in person, so if
you prefer to hear it that way – close the page and read no further. I would be happy to tell you over
lunch/dinner/beer/coffee. Whatever.
For our trip, we were seriously on a budget. We already spent more than we thought
possible on the plane tickets, so we needed to be creative about the rest. Thankfully-
Julia had arranged the majority of accommodations – staying in a castle –
cars – food. Everything was taken care
of. Well, all but this one small
detail. The ladies in my life REALLY wanted to see Paris. You see, they explained that it just wouldn’t
be France without the Eifel Tower. I
tried to dissuade them, but every project we did preparing for the trip always
came back to that dang tower. Even the
girl scout cookie patch this year had the Eifel Tower. We needed to go to Paris or they would never believe me that we were even in France. I get it.
So… I looked at our connections, our network. Employee rate at the hotel? 575 Euros. Staying with a friend of Juila’s? Nearly
impossible. There are six of us. So… we tried couchsurfing.com to see if
anyone would host us. That’s right. We
asked a stranger in France if they would essentially do a homestay for 6 people
on the fly. Who would say yes to this?
Obviously, someone crazy. I hoped,
for our sakes that it was someone crazy like me!
Turns out, less than 12 hours after my request, a family did
say yes. This is when I informed Brendan
of the plan. Why make him worry if we
didn’t have to? Turns out, he was sceptical but supportive.
Even my mom, who had recently stayed at an Air B&B was cool with the
plan. Awesome! We were set.
Thanks again to Julia, we were able to borrow a car. This was a huge advantage given the current
cost of train tickets in France. We were packing to leave the mountains and there
was a funny conversation about needing water for the car. I didn't get it. Everyone kept said it would be hot on
the road. I totally didn’t understand
the panic until I learned that there was no AC in the car. Oh well, only adds to the adventure, right? It's only 4 hours.
Then I relized that we didn't really have directions. A prudent person may have investigated this prior to leaving the states. It hardly seemed necessary. So we unfolded a tinfoil box and wrote some directions. Turn by turn from a random place in South Eastern France to a random person's house in Pairs. No GPS. No Lanugage Skills. A bit of Cash and a MAP. Let's keep adding to the adventure!
The highways are really well marked. It was a tremendous drive through the country side. Wonderful. Beaultiflul. Long. I told Helen we would arrive to her house around 6. We quickly realized that that was never, ever going to happen. At about 6, we got out of the car and unpacked the picnic that Julia packed for us. It was beautiful. We unfolded the table cloth, got out our cheese, bread, jelly and fruits and enjoyed some time out of the opressively hot car. We were doing it. We were indeed getting closer to Paris. The problem was, the closer we got to Paris, the heavier the traffic got.
Now, I've driven in rush hour before, but this was complete stop, move about three car lengths every 20 minutes kind of traffic. Couple that with hot, tired and hungry kids. Combine that with driving a manual (somehow very confusing in rush hour... do you just break? ride in and out of first? Hope to coast? my leg was getting tired). I looked over... the lady next to us was topless. Now I am totally all about wear what you want. Lots, little, whatever. But topless in rushhour seems ... not so comfortable. You have a seat belt rub, underboob sweat (quite possibly not a problem for this lady), distraction issues. I'm just not sure the benifit outweighs the annoyance.
Closer, closer... what if they had given up on us? Who would still welcome a family 4-6 hours after their scheduled arrival time? What if we never found them. I kid you not, we made it. 9 hours. one. one (!) wrong turn. And it was right away. The directions (verbal and written) said get to the "T" and turn right. For whatever reason, Brendan had this hunch that it really meant right. One mile in, and a threat of "stone island*" being shouted at him for the next four days, he agreed to follow the written and verbal directions. And voila. We were there. We pulled up and there was a sweet young girl playing outside. When she saw the car arrive, she tossed down her scooter and ran to the house. I was hopeful but insanely nervous. What are we doing? What if they were strange? What if...
This all went away. Helen and Phillipe were amazing. They welcomed us, their children were charming. They had a huge yard. HUGE. Bigger than ours in MN. It was lush, green and teaming with fruits and vegetables. They shared strawberries, cherries, raspberries with the girls who were starving for something succulant. They chased the kids, they swang on the swings. We found paradise in the middle of Paris.
We were welcomed into the house. They showed us a room for myself and Brendan and a room for the girls. The girls played with their children (6,10,12). In their room, they played "Littlest Pet Shop" and other toys that the girls recognised. They were running around the house, inside and out and at one top, I stopped A, the 5yo and asked: "What are you talking about? What is she saying." And A simply said: "It doesn't matter mom, we both know how to giggle."
Simple enough. Giggles happen in every language.
The kids were eventually tucked in and we sat at the table with the adults. It might not be obvious to you, but I get really nervous with small talk. I'm not always good at it. It has been a tremendously long day, and now I needed to chat. In addition, power dynamics make me nervous. I'm not used to recieving gifts. I love to give them, but need more practice at being gracious and accepting help. So here we are. Chatting and Helen says: "we have a proposition for you..."
I don't know about you, but the word "proposition" has some pretty intense implicaitons in my vernacular. So, a little more insight into my brain: I don't like to be surprised. When presented with a sitaution, I like to map out all possible solutions, evaluate what the worst could be, come up with a solid solution and then respond. This all happens in a second or two. So... new people that I met on the internet, staying in their house, recieving a favor. The worse case scenario - Sex. SHIT. How do I wake the kids up now? Where would we take them?
She continued. "We are going to Venezuela." Now I'm thinking... AHHH! Drugs? Money? What did I get myself into?
She continued. "There is a problem. With the shots." Sareen hamster thoughts: What am I? a DR? Do I have to shoot you in the ass? Do I have to smuggle something? What is it?
She continued. "Are you going to the Eiffel Tower tomorrow?" BOOM. This is solution time. Clearly, the native Parisians who can see the Eiffel Tower needed us, Brendan and Sareen to lead them there. Shoot... it has been a long day. My "Yes! Do you need to travel with us??" was met with puzzled looks.
Helen: No. Our clinic is near the tower. Could you take our children with you? Up the tower? AhHA! Simple. Sex?Drugs?Rock and Roll? Not my style. But watching a few kids? Right in my wheel house. The deal was struck. Day was set. WHeeeeew.
Lots of wheels spinning to get 11 people ready.. but we do it. Ready. It wasn't until we got to the tower, and are standing beneath it when we are faced with a choice. Paris. In the summer. Hot. Busy. Tall. We have a choice to make. Elevator or Stairs. What would you do? 4 kids under 6. Three others that don't know you and don't speak English.
If you said Stairs, clearly we are friends. You can't take the elevator up. If you are going to be on the tower, you have to walk that *#)@*. You have to earn it. This is SAREEN STYLE. We aren't affraid of a few stairs. Well, most of us aren't. You see... We couldn't find the baby's shoes in the AM. So she was strapped on. And the toddler, the 3yo looked right in Brendan's eyes and said: "nope. I'm not walking. You will carry me." Earn it BABY!
Here we go. Level 1. Great talks about rivits, walking. sights. Level 2. We cross to level two at step 700. Brendan and I have each carried another human up 700 stairs while watching 5 other humans to ensure that no one ever got lost. Ever. Ever Ever.
Level 700 is when my oldest looks at me. And in her astute and calm manner says: "Mom, Im not sure what made you think this was a good idea." Me: ?? really, you asked for it.
Her: "We are at the end of the vacation. It's hot. It's heights. There are crowds. I'm hungry. No one speeks English. Again, I don't think this was good planning." We step aside. I talk to her and we find a quiet spot to take a break. We grab some gellato, get some water and a granola bar and tried to chill. That is when we hear the announcment:
"attention: There are pick pocketers active in the tower. Pick pocketers are active in the tower." Then French. Then Spanish. Chinese. Japanese. etc. "PICK POCKETERS."
She looked at me: "mom, what are pick pocketers."
Me: "Don't worry honey - they are people who steal. We are prepared."
B: (escalating) "do they steal PEOPLE or THINGS."
Me: "Oh honey, Things. They want things. And Remember, in our family people are more important than things. They can't steal anything that is important to us."
Poor B starts to loose it anyway. The messages are stressful. The vacation has been long. She is flushed. Flapping a bit. talking very loud. But we are in a corner. We are taking our time. She wants, but refuses snacks and water. It's a meltdown. Not major, at least I don't think so.
Someone else did.
A woman came over to said to her: "I see you are having trouble with your lenient American (snear) mother. Perhaps you would like to come home with a strict French mother to learn how to behave."
To which B amazingly responded at the top of her lungs: "I'M BEING PICK POCKETEDDDDDDDDDDDD."
Fantastic. Good job kiddo. Don't take any crap from anyone. You identified your feelings. You gave me warning, told me your triggers and tried to salvage the situation. It was too much and you still stayed with me. Tried to work with me. And when someone tried to judge you, you stuck it to her. You made sure she would think twice about telling anyone else how to parent for a good long time. That is, after she was done talking with security.
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