Travel is decidedly slower as my Mother nears 89 years of age and we are forced to deal with the many security contingencies that the post-9/11 era demands. We have traveled throughout Provence many times in the past -- in the "good old" (pre-terrorism) days. Our experience a few weeks ago was decidedly different than it was in May 2001!

For instance, our Air France flight took off four hours late because the passenger count was off by one person. The flight crew must have counted 40 times but with the same outcome - some poor soul had not made it onto the aircraft. The question was: had their luggage been loaded and was it laden with explosives? After the 39th count, few of us cared anymore - we just wanted to become airborne, one way or another!

We embarked and disembarked a couple of times -- not a minor exercise when traveling with an increasingly crotchety 88-year old whose eyesight and patience seem to be departing faster than the plane!

When finally given the all-clear, it was well past 10:00 pm and my companion had already missed AF's version of the "blue hair dinner special" - an unforgivable transgression for the over-80 crowd! Needless to say, we hit the wine cart with a vengeance. Wine has a nice way of smoothing the waters, if you know what I mean.

Now that the fun was beginning, Mom couldn't wait to strike up conversations with her fellow travelers; strangely, few of them wanted to discuss her liver spotted hands at almost midnight as we were flying over the dark, yet lovely, wasteland called Newfoundland.

The only thing approaching the nastiness of an elderly woman who hasn't had her usual 10 hours of sleep is the same exhausted woman in need of a bathroom -- something which is unfortunately in short supply in the transfer section of Charles DeGaulle Airport. While I stood in a never-ending line of folks trying to switch connecting flights (most of our connections had already left and landed at their destination hours before), my Mother went on a quest for a WC (can you say, "Ou est les toilettes?&quot. This from a woman who is afraid of being left in the produce section of the local grocery store! The last thing I saw was this little, white-haired (and liver-spotted) woman skittering through the airport while I fought to get us on a flight to Marseille, preferably in the same year as that in which we landed.

After rescuing my Mother from the clutches of the totally-automated CDG toilette, we walked a few laps around the airport until (an hour later and a few pounds lighter) we found our gate. At this point, Mom thought that we had returned to Washington and she was looking forward to a "late" dinner at home. Little did she know at that point that our "late" dinner at home wouldn't take place for another 10 days - we were in Provence to stay (for at least a little while)! When traveling with the stalwart elderly, take every opportunity to drop the suitcases, have a stiff drink and gaze off at the distant Alpilles -- if only to rest up for the next episode of "when are we picking up the dogs from the kennel?"

Hi L,

Good for you for being so patient with your mother.

How did the rest of the trip go?

You're a saint! Waiting for more. The Alpilles is always my base.

Oh do let us know how the rest of the trip went....

I no longer have a mother to take away, but I hope if I am still compos mentis when I am in my eighties one of my children will take me travelling...

Your mother is very lucky and I hope she appreciates you - and also that you will have some lovely memories of this time to treasure...

How great to take your mom. I hope one of my children will tie me to airline seat and take me to Provence when I am 89. I hope to live to 89.

<i> Mom couldn't wait to strike up conversations with her fellow travelers; strangely, few of them wanted to discuss her liver spotted hands at almost midnight..</i>

Oh Lavande, thank you, this is charming and funny!
My mom is only 72 and she seems much older than yours. She would stand there and suffer before going off to find the loo on her own.
How lovely that you even wanted to spend 10 days with your mothter in Provence..

Hello Lavande - You're a great daughter to take your mom. I took my mom on her first trip to Europe in May - we had similar trials and tribulations but overall, a great time. (And, yes, it's amazing how a little wine can really smooth things over....!)

What a creative writer you are, Lavande. I am intrigued to read the rest of your report. How very sweet of you to take your mother on this trip. You are giving me courage as I am contemplating doing the same with my own mother who has trouble getting around these days.

Lavande-
I'm enjoying your story and can't wait to hear more. It makes me think of my own mom. We started taking trips together when I was 23 and she in her 40's. We've been to Italy, New Orleans, Bangkok, London, Sicily, and on Friday we leave for 10 days Spain! I hope we get to travel together for a long time, but I find as she now approches 60, she's already getting crotchety! ;-) We often lament we were never able to travel with my Grandmother, who now 80, suffers from Altzheimers. We realize we're blessed to be able to travel together now.

gee, Scarlett you could be my daughter!
Kristina, all of us seniors are crotchety.

Lavande, I took my mother and aunt (aged 80 and 83) to England for their first ever European trip. It was exhausting and not exactly the trip I would have preferred, but I wouldn't have traded it for any other trip in the world. I also made 3 air trips with my mother when she was over 90 and had impaired mobility, so I know how slow and difficult that sort of travel can be. You're lucky -- my mother couldn't drink alcohol. (But I could.)

Now that my mom and aunt are gone, I think of our &quot;adventures,&quot; and I am laughing and crying at the same time. Some day I bet you will count this trip as one of your fondest memories.

(Also really enjoy your writing and humor. Please continue the report!)

I'll always regret that I never took my dad to visit Somerset, England, the home of his ancestors. Responsibilities and priorities got in the way for both of us, and now he's too ill. Please continue your trip report. It is bittersweet. Count your blessings. J.

I tried for years to get my mom to go to Europe with me. She always wanted to go but was afraid because of impaired mobility. Alas, she is gone now and I really regret that I didn't force the issue. So thanks for being a good daughter and writing such a charming report.

Lavande, I hope someday my son will take me on a trip like this. You are a wonderful daughter. Can't wait for next installment.

My 78 yo mother manages to visit us in Europe at least once a year (usually twice) and we tend to go to spots where seniors don't feel out of place (Vienna, Basel, Lugano, Baden-Baden) and where there are activities she can enjoy like lake cruises, scenic trains/funiculars (Lugano is great that way) and spas. Mom is still in pretty good shape but tires fairly easily...she still loves to travel though, she's making up for all the travel she missed when she was young. When she comes over in spring 2006, we plan to do a driving trip to central Germany and maybe also to a few bits of the Loire Valley.
Those little tourist trains that go through towns are great for the elderly. And by that, I DON'T mean 60 year olds!!--funny how the older you get, your definition of &quot;old&quot; keeps stretching, I remember when I thought 40 was ancient. Silly me.

BTilke,

One of my friends is really age-conscious as has been for years. When we were teens, I used to write on her birthday cards, &quot;In 13 years, you'll be 30!&quot; then in her 20s, &quot;in 13 years, you'll be 40!&quot; Etc. I don't do it anymore.
I also used to be annoyed that some of my friends had birthdays before me--they were the first to turn 13, 16, 18, 21. Now that the next big milestone is 50, I'm not so jealous...

I'm not going to weigh in on the issue of age - suffice it to say that I'm in my 50s and, as you know, my Mother is 88! I also feel that in the interests of full disclosure, I should tell you that my Mother is my best friend so it's really no hardship traveling anywhere in the world with her.

Where were we? (See how quickly the aged can lose their train of thought?) We arrived in Marseille to beautiful weather and we were both still able to put together cogent sentences in English and some barely intelligible phrases in French. My Mother relies on my middle-school French to get us through all sorts of jams (more to follow) much to the amusement (or is it dismay) of those who actually speak the language well (or as it was intended to be spoken).

Appropriating our AutoEurope/Hertz rental car was easy (much shorter lines than at EuropCar) and we breezed along the A7 to St. Remy. Well, &quot;breezed&quot; may be somewhat of an overstatement as we seemed to hit every &quot;scenic vista&quot; along the route - Mother dubbed them as such but they most closely resembled WCs. But, as we weren't in any rush, except to the next rest stop, these slight delays did give us the opportunity to check out all of the new car models zooming by on the Autoroute du Soleil. Who knew that Ford could manufacture such great looking cars? Mom was ready to take up driving again just for the experience of sailing along in one of those beauties (if only they could be retrofitted with a porta-potty)!

We were both thrilled, of course, when the Alpilles and the Cavaillon exit came into view (don't you find that Cavaillon rarely has that effect on people). Soon we were sashaying down the alle of plane trees to our beloved Chateau -- an ancient edifice that had reverted from shabby-chic to just plain shabby.

&quot;We&quot; (the proverbial &quot;we&quot; can be translated loosely into &quot;I&quot; or &quot;me&quot hauled our two suitcases up the Mount Everest of staircases to our &quot;usual&quot; room - a room which hadn't seen the working end of a mop in (at least) four years, since our last visit. Thank God my Mother is no longer prone to scrubbing for I fear she would have been down on her knees scrubbing for dear life if allowed to. By the way, what innkeeper worth his/her &quot;sel&quot; (see, middle-school French does pay off)leaves used bars of soap in the bath for the next guest to use? Another unexpected pleasure.

The next morning we went in search of life (and cleanliness) in St. Remy. St. Remy never fails to cheer us up and this time was no exception.

&quot;...our beloved Chateau -- an ancient edifice that had reverted from shabby-chic to just plain shabby.&quot;

Brilliant. I want to write a trip report just like this one when I grow up.

Some people have the gift of creative writing, not me though. I guess I left my gift under the tree!
More please!