This is for those who keep asking what I did and how the trip was… I wish I could say I had a fantastic time, but I didn't. It felt a lot like work, taking care of my aunt, being pleasant to my mom 24/7 for 8 days, being in charge of all interactions with the public, and deciding everything from where we would eat each meal to what we would do each day with very little input.

So here is the travel journal:

10/12/2002

Well, we're here in the Hotel du Louvre. It's nice, plush really, and every time we leave my stomach knots up. I'm wondering when the "grand adventure" part begins and the "nervous terror" will end.

The whole trip got off to a bad start with a fog delay from Monterey to SFO. We decided to risk it (me, Aunt M. [this is my 84-year-old great-aunt], and James her lawyer friend), flew to SFO and missed our flight to Paris with my mom on it (flying from Phoenix much earlier in the morning) by about 20 minutes. So we caught a flight to London that had already boarded completely, and then after a few hours in Heathrow took a small shuttle-size plane to Paris. We arrived about six hours later than my mom did. Our baggage, miracle of miracles, stayed with us the entire time. Whoo!

Then we took an hour-plus long van shuttle ride from the airport to the Hotel Victoria, which was smelly and small and my mother wasn't there, despite the message from her to "meet at the hotel" that I got on the transatlantic flight. So then we panicked. For the second time, the first being when we missed the flight to Paris. I actually got hysterical. Aunt M. demanded that I find my mother. I hadn't slept a wink on any flight, had been in motion for 33 hours by my watch, and smelled so bad it made my eyes burn. I had no idea I was capable of smelling that rank.

Taking care of Aunt M. is exhausting. It was hell travelling with her. I'm so glad my mom is here now. She showed up after I sobbed all over the hotel concierge, checked with the other Hotel (Palace) Victoria, yelled at Aunt M., took a fast shower to calm down, called Gerald to get my step-father's phone number, called my step-father to see if my mom had left a message with him, and called James to see what we should do. I sobbed at everyone. So much mucous.

We slept in the teensiest hotel room, which smelled of something both sour and musty. "Slept" I use to mean lay in bed, trying to relax, during the moments when Aunt M. was not wide awake and trying to have conversation with my mom and I. She seems to have no idea how inconsiderate she is. She insisted that we change hotels, and was saying that she was homesick and that Paris was an ugly city before we even got off the van.

So I made us reservations at a very posh hotel, right next to the Louvre. It's very swank - the nicest hotel I've ever stayed in. My mom and I have a suite and Aunt M. has her own room. We have a safe and a bar and complimentary champagne and bourbon cherries. I suppose I shouldn't be so in awe, but I am. I'm used to Motel 6-type hotels. It's also 640E for our room and 360E for Aunt M's room per night. Far more than she wanted to spend probably (the last hotel was 96E per night for the triple room) but it was the best I could do; there were no mid-range hotels with vacancies.

Damnit, I'm still pissed about everything being handled so badly, and travelling with James the whole way. Condescending prick. I try to let it go, but I just can't yet.

So far we've explored the hotel, got money from a pointe d'argent (ATM), had lunch at a brasserie (not to be confused with a brassiere), and wandered around the immediate few blocks. We're close to lots of big-name things and right next door to the Louvre. It's cold and cloudy.

And I get all in knots each time I think of going out and interacting with people. Part of it is that cities always make me nervous, and I don't really know how to get over that. Then we have the language/custom problem. And despite everything, I still feel like we've "wasted" two days. Thursday was spent travelling. By the time we got to the hotel, it was Friday evening. And now it's Saturday afternoon. Thank God I finally got a nap in recently.

[break]

We had a nice dinner in the hotel restaurant. Expensive, but everything is. Tomorrow we'll hit the Louvre. This is going to be a slow-paced vacation and I'm trying to be ok with that. Oh hey, and I'm officially older now.

10/13/2002

We completely over-slept. I also have a very sore throat. And have two songs stuck on endless repeat in my head.

Aunt M. is sick also and wants to go home. She's not having a good time. This was such a mistake - way too much for her. Something smaller, closer, less adventurous may have worked better. But alas we're here now and we'll have to deal with it. Taking care of the elderly is really hard - they are so opinionated and stubborn, and you feel bad for bossing them around.

[break]

Mom and I let Aunt M. sleep while we went to the Louvre. Mostly we saw the sculpture and Italian paintings, including the Mona Lisa. They were all impressive, especially the huge sculptures and the gigantic canvases. But why is the Mona Lisa so famous? Especially compared to the huge and vibrant other paintings, I just don't get it.

We got some food and her medicines into Aunt M., which made a world of difference. Then Mom and I walked to the Opera Garnier. Then rested a bit. Colleen joined us for dinner at the café, then the two of us went to a short concert of chamber music about animals at the Opera. It was interesting. Somebody Mozart (not W.A.) and Saint-Saens and somebody else I'd never heard of.

Today Colleen joins us for the bus-and-boat tour of the big sites of Paris. Then if we have tine (and I have energy - Mom and I were both 100% unable to sleep at night), we may check out the catacombs. More later!

10/15/2002

Erg. Yesterday was exhausting. We did the van and boat tour, which was cool. Saw everything from a distance, and stopped briefly at the Notre Dame. After lunch, Colleen and I took the Metro (surprisingly easy to use) to Pere Lachaise and saw the "city of the dead." Particularly we stopped at the graves of Abelard and Heloise (swoon for me), Chopin, and Oscar Wilde. And Colleen wanted to stop at Jim Morrison's. It was really neat, more like a park than a cemetery, or a city even… Some really weird graves too - I need to find out who Victor Noir was, other than a journalist. He's got a life-sized sculpture of himself, but all unbuttoned clothes - very risqué for 1871. And he was only 22 when he died, so how could he be such a famous journalist? Plus, his willy is rubbed all shiny from visitors - what's that about? (1) The cemetery was very peaceful though.

Notre Dame was great - I wonder if there are tours where you can see more than just the main room we saw. It was very impressive though. Awe-inspiring. I also didn't know Napoleon made so many monuments… Oh, and I'm bummed out that the Bastille is gone. Not that I'm morbid or have prurient interested in the made where the Marquis de Sade lived. Not me.

Tomorrow we go to Giverny.

10/15/2002

Today we shopped some and wandered around near the hotel. Then we took a group trip to Giverny to see Monet's house and gardens. The house was small and not very interesting, but the gardens were fabulous, as were some of the reprints of his bigger works. The views of the bridges with the water-lilies were beautiful, despite it being October and the lilies not being in bloom. We took pictures and also wandered through the streets of Giverny - small, quaint stone houses. All very old looking, rural yet somehow proper. Such narrow streets. As in London. I guess ours are obscenely wide to them.

We also sat by the fountain in the Tuileries, while the sun was out. There was an exhibit of Greek statues - it's amusing to me that arms and heads and anything that sticks out gets broken off over time - all the penises are gone, leaving just the scrotums. It's odd.

Also, the Monet tour was being visited by a group of British schoolchildren. [content removed to save author from potentially greater humiliation.]

Mom and I are doing fairly well at not snapping at each other, and when we are short, we turn away form the argument. Aunt M. is driving me nuts, so slowly walking and so loudly talking about either nothing at all or the same topics she's already discussed to death. Are all old people so boring or is it just her? Probably some of both is my guess.

I'm tired. Crabby. I don't want three more days to fill. I want to go home.

10/16/2002

Today we went to the Musee d'Orsay. Saw Monet and Renoir and Degas and lots of other things I recognized. The most moving by far was Rodin's Gates of Hell. So full of movement. Swirling wind, tortured souls falling out, diving out, trying to escape, being sucked back in… The Thinker wasn't nearly sad enough to be contemplating the vision beneath him…

The larger-than-life paintings and sculptures really attract my interest, catch my eyes, make an impression. The way the light catches it and makes shadows.

So very tired. To dinner than a driving tour of "Paris Illuminated."

10/17/2002

Today we went to Fontainebleau. There was a sculpture there, "Modestie cede a l'amour," Modesty yields to desire - a maiden-type clutching her robes to her breasts while they are being tugged off by an impish knee-high Cupid. Can't find a picture of it anywhere. Damn. Such a perfect image of the awkwardness, that moment the first time disrobing of being lusty but embarrassed to be unclothed, exposed to your lover…

Otherwise the trip was just ok, a bit boring. I'm just so bloody tired, too tired to appreciate or enjoy anything.

Managed to do some editing today, but can't write. My muses must be at home. My obsessiveness has been interrupted. I hope it will return for long enough to finish the damn story.

Wrote some other junk though… About sex and writing and schoolboys and motherhood… My mind wanders from topic to topic like it's blown by an October wind.

I want to go home. One more day.

1) The internet is full of answers:

The Tomb of Victor Noir

Cemetery of Pre Lachaise-More extended visit (part 2)

Part 2: Reflections Now That I'm Back Home, coming next week

Columns by Wanton Hussy