,
Pleased as punch at having the glorious opportunity of
setting her pink manicured tootsies on foreign land, the only criteria being
that it be anywhere on the planet far away from her neck of the woods, the Kid
had definitely inherited her travel-a-holic
ol’ Auntie’s insatiable thirst for knowledge, possessing a bucket-load of
inquisitiveness about the four corners of the earth. Not content to merely traipse along the
well-trodden path of her somewhat wacky relative, Miss Niece was itching to
carve out her own around the globe journeys and forge tales that both
awed and inspired. It was therefore with
immense glee that le Kid jetted off from la belle province to the Greek isles
and the Mediterranean coast on a late summer’s eve, tickled pink that she would
be stomping on terra firma – but better yet – territory that her wayfaring Auntie
had not yet set foot upon.
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| Almost there!! |
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| Come sail away to the Greek isles (Photos courtesy Maradzidra) |
And so, dear reader, how is this of monumental significance? Well, read on and stay tuned...
Le Kid’s wanderlust must have stemmed from way back, five years
to be exact, when, on a whim (most likely after having had a few oh so soothing liquid libations of the
vino tinto kind), I thought it a swell idea to have one of my nieces accompany
me on my annual European vacation.
Assuming that my sister would permit me to take along her eldest
daughter, she instead surprised and informed me that her youngest, the 12
year-old, would be my travel companion.
Like, seriously? Do I look like a
mom or even a somewhat responsible type of Auntie? My interests were of the vino indulging kind,
languishing the day away in bistros and cafés and sprinting around the
cobblestoned rues and avenues in quest of handbag acquisitions. C’est
tout. Oh, and snagging that National
Geographic worthy digital memory of the income generating kind, setting me up
for life with an over-flowing bank account of colourful Euros and Canadian
dollars and an unlimited supply of kaleidoscopic bank notes.
With the Kid hooting and hollering on the other end of the
phone line, delirious with joy that she would finally be embarking on an
adventure across the pond, no matter if it was with her somewhat delusional old
relative, her lifelong dream (seriously, you’re 12, Kid!) of hanging out with
her heroine, Marie-Antoinette, would finally come to fruition. Visions of gawking at the splendor of the
opulence of the Palace of Versailles dancing in her head, sleepless nights spent
counting down the hours until finally (!!) face to face with the Mona Lisa and
scampering from le Petit Trianon to le Grand Palace, seemed but an eternity
away.
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| The interior of the Palace of Versailles - When can I move in?? |
Yikes!! What had I foolishly committed to?
Auntie Nora’s Parisian checklist –
Don’t forget to
print out the map of the 24-hour supermarkets selling discounted vino.
Don’t forget to
print out the map of the emporiums hawking cheapo
bargain basement priced clearance sale liquidation satchels. No matter that they’re oh, so last season!
Don’t forget to
print out the map of bistros offering les
plats du jour, which include endless supplies of vino tinto –all for the
affordable price of 15 Euros or less.
Don’t forget to
print out the map of the cleverly hidden boutiques that are privy only to an
exclusive enclave of a few select “insider’s
in the know”.
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| Les boutiques, les boutiques, les boutiques = Le shopping!! |
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| Vino, anyone? Hello?? |
The Kid’s Parisian checklist –
Don’t forget to
print out the map of the grounds of the Palace of Versailles – especially all
of the favourite salons where the long-dead Queen spent the majority of her
days.
Don’t forget to
print out the map of ALL of the museums and historical places of interest from
le 1er arrondissement to le 18ieme arrondissement and thereabouts.
Don’t forget to
print out the map of all of the metro stations in Paris - a handy dandy quick
reference guide – so that I can quickly make that mad dash away from my annoyingly
controlling Auntie, who, luckily for me, won’t step an inch inside le extremely claustrophobic metro.
Don’t forget to print
out the map of all of the internet cafés in Paris, as Auntie Nora won’t have an
inkling of a clue as to how to connect her laptop to le French internet.
Don’t let Auntie
Nora con me into visiting Disney Land Paris. Who does she think I am, a
Kid? Like, seriously? I’m so insulted.
Needless to say, Miss 12 year old proved to be an
exceptional travel companion, teaching an old dog (you know who!) new tricks – like, how to spend part of the day
hanging with the likes of Van Gogh and Leonardo da Vinci, leaping back in time
to the 18th century and being mesmerized by the posher than posh gilded Palace of Versailles. Miss Kid didn’t even mind tagging along with
me (not like she had a choice, mind you) on my numerous small leather good
acquisition missions, not a peep out of her, quiet as a mouse, chomping down on
bonbon after bonbon after bonbon…. Bribery sure does work wonders!
And the moral of the story is?
Come traipse along with the Kid and I on
our adventures around the globe, all true tales with not a wee bit of
exaggeration added. Really? Seriously? Really.
Next week – on to Greece – impressions of
the Kid inspired kind.
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