We toured the kids’ schools. Everyone’s excited for classes to begin next week. The twins’ is a few blocks from the flat, but Thom and Vinnie will have a longer trek. We hope to have them riding their bikes eventually; but, to begin with, they’ll need to take the tram and budget 40 minutes of transit time. We have almost all of the supplies. A big item on the list was footwear. Each kid needs sport shoes, rain boots, and hausschuhe (slippers for indoors). They are also required to have full-body rain gear. Vinnie will start first grade, and it's a big deal here. First graders have their own start date and are given a giant cone filled with gifts and candy on their first day of school. The cone is called a Schultüte. There's one in the picture above, but Vin is more interested in the microscope.
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My new gym has little bracelets that check you in, out, and open and close lockers.
Also, eggs are not refrigerated in the grocery store. I gave myself a thorough tour of the ReWe when learning this lesson. Freiburg’s Münsterplatz hosts a market each morning. We finally had our act together to visit. The quarts of strawberries Lee chose were wrapped in newspaper and devoured within minutes of purchase. At supper Errol reflected, “It’s so hard to keep up with their eating.” Trading in Costco for daily trips to the grocery is an adjustment. Luckily, there are giant jars of nutella.
Lauren instructed me to meet her at Musee d'Orsay at 9.30 Sunday morning. I had another beautiful walk along the Seine with great views of the Alexander bridge. Lauren, Alex, and I set off to play at Tuileries gardens while the rest of the crew queued for the museum. A decent majority of Lauren and my good talks have been on playgrounds. Sometimes when we’re leaving church, I’ll gesture to its playground with a wink and tell Lauren, “That’s where we fell in love.” Alex palled up with a four-year-old from Hong Kong and rode the merry-go-round with his family. Mary Poppins made carousels magical, and this one was especially fantastic. We admired some water lilies at l’Orangerie, lunched, and took in more of the city on foot. Charlotte joined us as we meandered toward Gare de Lyon. We explored a vintage shop, drooled over desserts, and brainstormed what I should buy my family from Paris. She suggested keychains and snowglobes. I chose strawberry jam. She told me that now Paris feels like home to her. We all have our own definitions of home. It was time for me to return to Freiburg. Not home but home base for now. At 19, I spent ten weeks in Europe against my parents’ advice. I made the decision to go 12 days before departure. I had no idea what I was getting into. It changed me forever. Backpacking Europe is central to my coming of age story. Hostels played a significant role. Securing a place to sleep each night was a big part of my life that summer. How long would it take to find? Was a bed available? A lock-out period? Mixed dorm? Laundry? Did a shower cost extra? I fell in love with hostels. I dreamt of running my own someday. I fantasized about greeting all those travelers, fulfilling basic needs, and listening to their latest tales from the road. When Errol suggested I stay at a hotel near Lauren’s, I looked at him like he was crazy: “I’m not staying in a hotel!” The idea seemed absurd. Instead, I spent the night at Adveniat Paris and, no surprise, loved it. I slept in a 6-bed female dorm room. When I arrived shortly after ten, there was only one other person in the room. We exchanged names and pleasantries. I’m American. She’s Canadian. I’m leaving tomorrow. She’s here until Monday. She likes my clothes and wants to attend university in Freiburg. She oozed sweet naivety--probably just like I did at her age. Hope all your dreams come true, Emily! The rest of the beds were filled throughout the night. Phone flashlights, dropped objects, slamming doors, and hair dryers stunted my sleep. I don’t live with grown-up girls anymore, but, apparently, some like to dry their hair before going to bed. It’s kind of loud. I was so happy to stay in a hostel again. It’s good to be reminded why you like something. It’s also good to choose a bed by the wall. Don’t forget. After Errol’s sabbatical location was settled but before we knew our summer plans, Lauren and I decided I’d meet her in Paris on her birthday. The train ride from Freiburg is a little over three hours, and I left our flat in the early light to catch the 6.56 a.m. train. It left right on time. She chose Luxembourg Gardens as our meeting spot, and the walk from Gare de Lyon was magnificent. I followed the river most of the way and stopped a bit to watch men fish and a painter stare at his easel. I started to think of the van Gogh brothers and their time in Paris. As I drew nearer to Notre Dame, I decided to pop into Shakespeare and Company to pick up a copy of Vincent and Theo. The bookstore was so crowded, I left within minutes. Sometimes my 308 self wins out. I don’t fight it much. I have no phone service in Europe yet so our meet-up was very retro. We found each other by the fountain and strolled about before landing outside a playground to watch her two children and chat with her husband and parents over coffee. Charlotte, Lauren’s nine year-old daughter, asked, “Miss Anne, what are you going to do in Paris?” “Follow your mom around for two days.” I find knowing what you’re doing extremely attractive. When I worked at J.Crew, no one swooned over my ability to navigate a direct return, in-store exchange, and new purchase all in the same transaction. Fear not, I’d always give myself proper positive reinforcement: “Great job, Anne. You even remembered to change the sales tax from 8.1% in Phoenix to 7.8% in Scottsdale.”Competence is never lost on me. I appreciate it. Lauren knows Paris from months living there in college, and her subsequent trips keep her skills up. I love how she gets me to where I need to be. As much as I enjoy following people around, I had forgotten how my introverted nature creeps in during travel: “You all go into Notre Dame. I’ll meet you out here at 4.” “I should find some Wifi. How about we catch up after cake?" I needed to be alone. I needed to wander around without a destination and stare at things as long as I wanted without any comment. This was my third visit to Paris, but I don’t know it all. Almost immediately, I had no idea where I was. While lost, I found a Red Cross thrift shop and a bought a new jacket for €5. These are the best souvenirs. It doesn’t say Paris on it, but I’ll remember the trip fondly each time I wear it. Back with Lauren, she requested her birthday supper be take-away on the Seine. Oh, Lauren! Could I love you any more? We made a quick stop at Franprix for cheese, olives, salmon, and wine. It was perfect. We drank from hotel plastic cups and talked until we needed to walk some more. We sipped watered-down gin and listened to stories at her old hang-out, The Long Hop. Through the Latin Quarter, we shared an ice cream and put in a few more kilometers to reach my hostel. Now it really felt like 2003. I first met Lauren seven years ago when we were both pregnant with our second children. I feel like it was in the first few conversations that she declared she wanted to spend her 35th birthday alone in Paris. It didn’t happen. In the spirit of her long-held desire, she’s in Paris today. On a beautiful Saturday in her beloved city, surrounded by those who love her most, she turns 37. Happy birthday, my dearest. Four days here, and I’ve already discovered what I can bring home to make America a better place. A teddy bear that blows bubbles. It’s magical and hilarious. I had noticed children chasing after bubbles when we entered the toy store, but I didn’t give it a second thought. When we left, Vinnie saw the bubbles, furrowed her brow, looked down the sidewalk, and asked, “Who’s blowing bubbles?” Not a human in sight. Then we glanced up and found the responsible party wearing nothing but a red bow. Magical and hilarious. This morning I awoke to pouring rain and thick mist over the black forest. The romance of it all was so overwhelming, and I began to sing Eponine’s ballad of unrequited love out the window. “I listened to this song every time it rained when I was on my trip, Errol.” “What? Have the kids eaten breakfast?” Oh, reality. Turns out a rainy day isn’t so romantic with your family and nowhere to go. It had let up by late afternoon, and we saw more of Freiburg beyond the old city gate. We found a bigger grocery but are still on the hunt for tortillas. When Thom was a preschooler in Princeton, we’d take the bus from Butler into town to break up the afternoon slog. Baby Vinnie would fall asleep in the ergo, and we’d walk the mile and change back to Butler. Thom was an adorable little guy with a mop of curls and was constantly praised by strangers for walking so well. The formula was simple. Before we began, we would stop at CVS and buy jelly beans. I’d give him one at each corner until we got home. Eventually he didn’t need the bribes, and by kindergarten, he was a champion walker. The other three, however, well, there’s lots of room for improvement. Today I resorted to cookies at every corner on the trek back to our flat. We made it home; and, miraculously, they still had an appetite for weisswurst and sauerkraut for supper. |
Anne Thomsen lordWritings on our year abroad. Archives
September 2018
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