sorry stoke, got the name wrong. will dig a little deeper

Thomas Cochrane is the correct name. Blame it on old age

I'll call it a typo and check out Cochrane. Aubrey is a lovable character.

The next morning, I had time for Celtic breakfast before 91 bus to St.Pancras and the Eurostar.



A few last shots of London.
This was, dismayingly, the odorous passage under Waterloo Bridge from bus stop to BFI. More tents in public areas than I remember, too. Fewer beggars.




Along the Embankment.

​​​​​​


Mudlark in Richmond.



Goodbye to Russell Square.

zebec, I hope rugby Scotland's heartbreaking loss to England yesterday doesn't set your friend back.

I watched part of the France-England match at a Tabac near Jardin de Luxemburg. The host spotted me as an England fan, made some young men move so I could sit. It was close, and when I left France had a narrow lead. Allez les Bleues!

My newfound interest in rugby will probably end today, since I can't watch at home.

Back home last night, then -- not to overshare my personal woes - - a night of leg cramps. So turns out it's not crisps; it's transatlantic flights. If I ever do long-haul flights again, I will prep with days of magnesium supplements each way. Maybe throw in a banana, to improve my odds.

My restricted wardrobe got me through nicely. We had expected warmer temps by the time we got to Greece, but instead got "severe" cold alerts on weather app, down almost to freezing, no higher than 45F. (Meanwhile, it was -2F back home, and we asked our neighbors to check that our water pipes didn't freeze.) I was able to layer the lightweight merino dress under the heavier one under a linen jacket, and be all right.

A friend of mine is thinking about a first visit to Paris, asked me for tips.
I have a long-standing rule of avoiding at least one Must Do per city, but now I revise to Do Not Do Must Do's.

I had tried to prepare myself with Pimsleur tapes of Greek, Italian, and refresher French. By the time I've been in a country for a week, and finally starting to feel a little comfortable, it's time to leave.

What Pimsleur tells you is Hello in Greek, sounds like "Chairete," nobody really says. It's "Yasas."
Then there are the letters.
On our Aegean flight out, the sign said "Exodos."


Luckily for us, English is the lingua franca.

Stairways of our trip:


Marble in Thessaloniki.

Straightforward terrazzo and marble in Rome

In Paris, charmingly wound around a small elevator.



I happened to be across from the Spanish Steps looking for a glove store. Don't understand the appeal, except for how cute Audrey Hepburn looked there with her gelato cone. People are sitting with impunity.

Stoke, your planned preventatives for cramps are bang-on perfect--I too suffer leg cramps. See also some form of massage. Regarding those steps in Rome: check out the story of the couple who recently tried to drive their rental (one of those digital scooters if memory serves) down the stairs at night.
I am done. The certified idiots

Thanks, zebec.

Wait. According to the Guardian article, a US couple was fined only €400 each in 2022 after causing €25,000 damage to the Spanish Steps. But! a Dutch couple had to pay €1,000 each for just stepping into the Trevi Fountain?

No longer live.

ON TO FRANCE

Eurostar sped me from St. Pancras toward Paris. A comfortable ride, past plowed fields edged with poplars, occasional villages with church spire, good French farmland. Bad coffee, paid for with choice of pounds or euros.

I did not have a steady internet connection. Train Wi-Fi very spotty, and I had not realized that I could set up my Airalo e-sim in advance to connect automatically when I got to the EU. The activation requires good Wi-Fi, so I planned to wait until Gare du Nord.

Bob had not wanted to focus on the trip until two days before I left. We sat down together, and he took careful notes. (What he did with those notes, lost to history. Maybe still untouched in his suitcase.)
* Métro ticket from CDG loaded on his phone.
* Addresses and times of first and backup rendezvous spots.
* Pocket power bank, and how to use.
* Printed detailed itinerary.
* That sort of thing.

45 minutes into the French countryside, I got a WhatsApp from him, “ How do I get into Paris from the airport?” Then, “ My phone is about to die. I'm turning it off.” Later, “I’m in a taxi with a fellow passenger. Maybe she can help me find the apartment. Phone off.”
Wait, what?

There's a bus transit center behind gd Nord that took a minute to find, then one bus took me down Bd. Beaumarchais to the Marais.

Luckily, our backup rendezvous was Café Hugo on Place des Vosges, a spot very familiar to us both. A kind server had let him sit and charge his phone, get his feet on the ground. All was well.

We are a 20th century couple finding our way in a 21st century world. Bob's habit of not looking forward allows him to be surprised and delighted. He remained cheerful throughout, anyway, and forgave the expensive mistake I made finding us a place to stay.

I have been saying for years that I would not get a short-term rental in Paris or other centre ville ruined by speculators. Yet we ended up last minute in a one bedroom at the southern edge of Jardin de Luxemburg, after my non-refundable €880 error that's too embarrassing to relate.

Quiet, anyway, near bus and RER lines and a Franprix.

My new advice to those visiting cities like Paris, Rome is Do NOT Do must-do's. Formerly, I snubbed one major tourist destination per city. Now I say skip them all. Walk past them, sure, if you must. Take pictures of each other with things in the background. But feel just fine about skipping the Tower of London, the Eiffel Tower, or the Coliseum.

My early morning coffee Tabac.


He's making me a cappuccino


Early morning Jardin de Luxemburg


Franprix finds. So good.

The real magic is on the streets.
Exceptions this trip:
Of course we made reservations and visited the miraculously renewed Notre Dame de Paris. We had been there several times before the fire, and it was delightful to see what they've done.





I lit one for my old Ma.

The real magic is on the streets.
Exceptions this trip:
Of course we made reservations and visited the miraculously renewed Notre Dame de Paris. We had been there several times before the fire, and it was delightful to see what they've done.





I lit one for my old Ma.

ND looks so bright and cheery and new. Maybe that was the idea all along.....

I dislike the idea of must-do. No, you don't must anything.

I remember talking to a friend about his upcoming first-time visit to Paris. I mentioned that going up the Eiffel Tower could be avoided, and I thought his response sad: "I can't come back from Paris and tell people I didn't go up the Eiffel Tower." It's not the he wanted to, just that he wanted to avoid the embarrassment of NOT doing it.

With your new discovery of (non) priorities, I am amazed that you would still stay in the center of Paris when the outer areas are so much better and non "must-do."

Stoke the 20th century traveler, you've taught us all the importance of having a back-up Plan B for important transfers and like that.
As for 'must-sees', they too seem to be one of the important travel lessons. Are they really essential? Pourquoi? Cue Shelemm's friend.
I am done. the kindred 20th century traveler

Stokebailey, I think you do very well. I think the older you get, some things become less important. We have been to Paris once and enjoyed it, but we did not go to the Louvre which is of course considered a ' must see'. We did lots of other things which have given us great memories and that is what is most important. I tell people that nothing is a ' must see' unless you want to see it.
Lovely photos .

Shelemm, I hope you rolled your eyes when your friend said that.

Ah. Yes. Good point, K. I had previously told myself, besides hotels only in Paris, that I wouldn't fly overseas again.

The thing about this trip, it was mostly tailored to Bob. This might account for my slightly grouchy tone.
To please myself, a town or a small city elsewhere in France, as long as it was big enough for two bakeries, two cafes, and a market.

zebec, I'd love to be one of your kindred.

Thank you, rhon. Coincidentally, the Louvre looms large in my anti-Must mentality.