Trip Report of Family Which Opted to Take the Easiest Albeit Not Necessarily Cheapest Way to Zip Through Paris, London, and Munich
 

Part 1 - In which we almost have to turn around and go back home.

We are a family of six who left the eldest two children home "in charge" - DH, DD (17), DS (12) and I began making plans in January for our July-August trip. (Eldest two children - DS1 (21) and DD1 (19) got to make the trip five years ago.) We own our own business - a farm where we raise baby pigs for a corporate entity - so I had a hurry-scurry week before we left trying to pre-pay bills and payroll for the 12 days we would be gone. I was the only family member who had a cell phone that would work internationally (and, the family member voted most likely to not have anyone call her just to shoot the breeze while we were on $1.29/minute Cingular international roaming), so my cell phone was the only one to make the trip.

We live in central Illinois, so we have a four-hour drive to O'Hare in Chicago. Our Air France flight was scheduled to leave at 5:35 pm, so we - in a spirit of being cooperative international travelers - decided to try and be at the airport by 2:30. We were almost completely packed by the time we got up early Tuesday morning - we had been following a hint I saw here to try and adjust our sleep pattern gradually before we left, and we had managed to hit the hay and subsequently arise about an hour-and-a-half earlier than normal by the time we left. Contrary to everything I read here, we each had a 29" Delsey Lite rolling suitcase to check and good-sized backpacks to carry on with a change of clothes, toiletries, and essential paperwork. We each had a down travel pillow from Restoration Hardware (hint read here - thanks), and DD and I had regular-sized Healthy Back Bags from LL Bean to use as our purses. (They worked great, other than the curved design meant that any 9"x11" paper items had to have a corner folded over. They were large enough, however, to stuff rainhats or light sweaters into in a pinch.) Both kids had iPods to use on the plane, DH had his favorite hand-held Solitaire game, and I brought my Anacrostic puzzle book. (Wow - hasn't traveling life changed in just one short week? Now, none of those things would be allowed in the cabin.) We had opted to take the large suitcases both because we had them, and because we felt compelled to pack two complete travel wardrobes - one in case it remained shorts-and-sandals weather the entire time, and the other in case it turned cool and rainy the moment we touched European soil, which is what we usually experience.

We had been on the road for less than a half-hour when my cellphone rang. It was one of the farms for DH - it was 100-degrees-+ F, and the water was not working. The regular manager was off for the day, DS1 was on call and en-route (but not mechanically inclined anyway), and DH's father (who IS mechanically inclined and retired) was not at home. We put in a call to our one local restaurant (town of 600) to leave word for D-in-law if he showed up there. DH had left his cellphone at home for DS1 to have in order to access emergency phone numbers, but DS1 had gone directly from his house to the farm; my cellphone didn't have any of the essential numbers - Screw-Up #1 for the trip. (There will be more, you can be assured.) We not only called the restaurant, we called the veterinarian's office to get some of the phone numbers, and we finally tracked down the electrician to have him meet DS1 at the farm. (The water was important not only for drinking by the breeding sows, but it is used to cool the buildings where the animals are housed.)

DH was on the phone almost the entire drive, trying to resolve the situation before we got on the plane. The electrician called back to say that the water was working - just not at full-tilt, so we managed to get a call in to a well-digging company just before we hit O'Hare to schedule the digging of a new well upon our return....

Part 2 - Air France to Paris, July 26th

Screw-up#2 - The shoes. I wanted stylish, comfortable shoes that could be worn with a multitude of outfits, and I chose Clarks Privo Tequinis, which I wore on the plane sans socks. Mistake. Blisters on my heels before we made it to Paris. Threw on the pair of wool socks (wool? don't ask me) I had in my carryon, which I wore until we made it to our hotel. Had to switch to sandals to allow the blisters to heal....

I had expressed concern on the "Airlines" forum after I read negative comments about Air France, but I'll say upfront that we had a very good experience with them. I had checked in online at home the night before we left, but we still had to get in line at O'Hare to check our bags and to get boarding passes. Air France had e-mailed me when we booked our tickets in January that we had seats 25D, E, F, and G (the center four seats) on an Airbus 340, so we got on www.seatguru.com to look at the layout of the plane. When I checked in at home, however, we found out that our seats were 17A, B, D, and E. Depending on which version of a 340 we were to take, this would either be the first row of economy or the 4th - having had no experience with the in-seat tv's, we didn't know which version to wish for! (Turned out to be the 4th row, which was just fine.)

A first word about Paris's CDG airport - I had read here about the craziness, but, until you experience it, you can't imagine it! We de-planed on the tarmac at 8:30 am and were bused (on the scenic route, it seemed) to the terminal. Here comes one of the first instances of choosing the path of least resistance, which is not necessarily the most economical way to go: we had decided to buy Paris Visite passes for zones 1 - 5 rather than the Carte Orange. (I have to say, however, that this method worked quite smoothly for us, and I sincerely feel that I would do it again.) DD and I left DH and DS standing with the luggage while we headed downstairs and across terminals at CDG to go to the RER station to buy the passes. Lines were long there, it was getting hot, and we had no way to communicate with DH and DS that we were going to be longer than they thought.

Got the passes, rejoined the men, and began to look for the Roissy bus that headed for Opera Metro station. We had reservations at Hotel l'Eveque on rue Cler, and I had read here that this was the best way to get there (thanks, Robespierre). Note: I had also read here that the Roissy bus was air conditioned, but it is not, if that is important to anyone. We knew that we were going to get Museum Passes for DH and I, and I had noticed in my investigations that there was an Office of Tourism right next to the Opera station. Once again, DH and DS guarded the luggage while DD and I went inside to buy Museum Passes. (This worked quite well; plus, the office was air conditioned for a brief breathe of coolness!) We found the steps to the Metro, knowing that there was no escalator, but rejoicing that we were only dragging our big suitcases down, not up, for now. We took the Metro to Ecole Militaire stop, which has an escalator up, and we were on our way over the cobblestones to the hotel.

We were hot and sweaty and would have loved a shower, but the rooms were not ready yet at noon, so we left our suitcases and found a Chinese place on rue Cler; ate outside, which only added to our sweatiness, so it was probably a good thing we hadn't had a shower yet. By the time we got in our rooms and showered, we were starting to get tired. None of us had slept more than an hour on the plane, but DH and I made the executive decision to keep on the move until a normal Paris bedtime in order to try and become acclimated. We walked to the Eiffel Tower, thinking that would be a good introduction to Paris, but the lines looked to be about 2 hours or more, and the tired kids decided they didn't care what Paris looked like from on high. There was an international competition for beach volleyball going on at the opposite end of Champs de Mars (DD plays high school volleyball), and we glanced around, thinking we might glimpse Misty Mays....

We took the Metro to the Louvre and leisurely followed the crowds around to see the Venus de Milo and Mona Lisa; during the caffeine-ingesting break in the cafeteria we met a nice couple from Wichita, Kansas who had already done the London-Paris leg of their trip and were leaving for Munich in the morning. We exchanged notes and took their suggestion to head over to the Bateaux Moches Seine cruise. I had neglected to ask what RER stop we needed, but I thought I recalled that it was the Pont de l'Alma. As we looked at the map in the station to figure out our route from the Louvre to Pont de l'Alma, we saw that we could make a switch at Charles de Gaulle-Etoile; DH and I thought we might as well see the Arc de Triomphe en route while we were that close. After a short breather on the train and fueled by our Cokes at the Louvre, the kids announced they wanted to climb all 284 steps of the Arc! As it turned out, this was a nice temporary substitute for the top of the Eiffel Tower, even though I thought I would die before I reached the top....

We made it to the Bateaux Moches in time for the 7 pm ride - it would have been a nice excursion with our vantage point on the top deck, but so many tourists stand at the railings all around the deck for the entire trip that those of us who felt compelled by the 284 steps they just climbed to spend the duration sitting down miss a lot of the sites. Plus, the caffeine wore off as the boat glided down the river.... DS fell asleep in his chair.

We returned to the rue Cler area to find somewhere to eat dinner, and we landed at Cafe le Bosquet. It was okay, although I tried my first Croque Madame and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have to interject some thoughts on Rick Steves here. I had looked at his book but relied on and brought with me Frommer's. We just happened to walk by le Bosquet and saw that we could get in, so we decided to eat there. After we were inside, I saw so many Americans clutching a Rick Steves book, I knew without a doubt that the cafe had been mentioned in it. I almost got the sense that the family next to us would not make a move without consulting their book. This experience and all of the Americans on the rue Cler in general detracted somewhat from what was otherwise a delightful hotel.

As we finished our dinner, a thunderstorm blew in, scooting all of the outside diners inside, whereupon the owners shut the place up tighter than a bank vault. We were glad to walk back to the hotel in the rain, feeling quite a bit like Gene Kelly, even though none of us sang....

Great report - can't wait for more!

Part 3 - Paris, in which DD dances with the Greek waiter

The cure for jet lag is sleep. We know that, because we slept for fourteen hours straight. DH and DS had a travel alarm clock for their room, which they set for 7:30 am. DD and I had the cell phone, on which we also set an alarm for 7:30. DH and DS CLAIM the alarm didn't work properly; the cell phone alarm would have worked, I'm sure, if the time on it had changed from American time to French time. (Note to others - just because your cell phone changes time zones automatically in the US doesn't mean it will do so in Europe.) DH phoned our room at 11:20 am to see if it was really 11:20 am. We had wanted to be at Versailles at 9:00. Oops. But we felt great!

The Museum Pass worked wonderfully at Versailles, even though the lines didn't seem as long as they had in March, 2001, when we were there before. Got in right away, but had to go back to rent the audio-guides - they were at a counter before we showed our passes. The kids were suitably impressed with Versailles, and the opera theatre had opened for viewing since DH and I were last there. As noted by others, the Hall of Mirrors is under renovation, but one half was open for viewing. We got back into Paris around 5:00 and thought we could make it to Notre Dame to get inside before it closed; it closed just as we walked up. Our trip from the hotel to Notre Dame had taken much longer than it should have - the RER line we intended to take was closed for renovation and was replaced by a slow-moving bus that easily took a half-hour. We walked around the Cathedral, snapping pictures in case we didn't get back to see the inside on another day.

We decided to find somewhere to eat in the Latin Quarter, and we wandered by cafe after cafe. A large man slamming plates onto the doorstep of one caught our attention, and we were immediately drawn into the world of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." The Meteora at 9 rue de la Huchette had a small band playing Greek music; the menu wasn't truly Greek, and the food wasn't the best I've ever had, but the waiter - ooh, now, that's another story. Did I mention that DD is 17? At some point during the evening, the young male waiters came around to the tables to get the women to join in a Greek line dance. DD went, but I claimed shyness (and blisters). As the dance wended its way around the room, female dancers began to laughingly return to their tables, but not DD, and not our waiter. (I have to wonder if anyone was hoping that their waiter - OUR waiter - would stop dancing and ask them if they needed a refill.) DD and the swarthy young waiter danced and danced; I noticed not much conversation flowed between the two of them. DD told us that he asked her if she went "clubbing" - one would have to assume he didn't realize she was 17....

Edgecorp, great report so far. I can hardly wait for the rest. Whatever points you lost for too much luggage is more than made up by your smooth handling of your tribulations on the way to the airport and your great attitude.

Hi E,

Interesting report.

I agree with you about The Meteora. Not really Greek, but a pleasant and fun place.

((I))

Don't you think this report is a bit too detailed and those details are not terribly fascinating? Gotta admire your diligence though.

I don't think it's too detailed. I think it's a great report and I'm loving the details.

Thanks for the great trip report!

Part 4 - Friday, July 28th: A trip to Normandy and Omaha Beach, on which we discover that, one, Omaha Beach is pretty much just a beach, and that, two, some men should just not wear Speedos

We had scheduled a bus trip with ParisVision to visit the American WWII sites of Normandy. (Both DH and I asked for wake-up calls this morning!) Originally we had intended to take the train to Bayeux the night before, stay in a B&B, take a local tour with Battlebus, and bring the train home that night, but we didn't know what to do with our luggage for the night we were in Normandy. I hadn't prepaid with Battlebus, so I cancelled with them and rescheduled with ParisVision. Battlebus had pretty much told me we'd be disappointed with the ParisVision tour and that we would probably just have a recording instead of a real tour guide. We did, however, have a wonderful woman as a guide - she was very knowledgeable and pointed things out along the way. DS hadn't really adjusted to the time yet, and he was very tired as we left Paris. He kept claiming he was cold, so we piled our jackets on him; still, he shivered and shivered. He didn't feel feverish, but he has been known to throw up if he gets a headache, so I was constantly on guard for that. We stopped at a rest stop about an hour out of Paris and forced him to drink a Coke and take some Tylenol. He finally fell asleep and, when he awoke, he was a 12-yr-old boy again - ready to get out of the bus and get moving! It was the most beautiful day imaginable - the temperatures had cooled down, and the sky was the bluest I'd seen. We stopped for lunch at Arromanches, where the sailboats lay next to the English Channel, and the headstones at the American Cemetery almost glistened in the sunlight. DS and I spent some time looking for the headstone of any soldier who had been killed on D-Day itself; we were intrigued to find that you could almost tell what "position" a soldier had by which month he was killed - soldiers in reconnaissance died in the months preceding the invasion, etc.

We parked a distance away from the landing site at Omaha Beach, and, as we walked up to it, its significance seemed to grow in our minds. This was the one place that DH had said he wanted to go when we began planning the trip, and friends from home all told us they really wanted to see it someday as well. Maybe we built it up into too much in our minds, but, as we reached the top of the overhang above the beach, we felt ourselves holding our breath. We walked up, peeked over, and saw....

Bikinis and Speedos: Little pails of sand with tiny little boys in tiny little Speedos. Beach blankets with little girls in tiny little bikinis. Then, as we looked closer, we saw great big people in those same tiny little Speedos and tiny little bikinis. Yuck! Had we expected the wreckage of landing craft? Had we expected a sacred piece of ground left barren to celebrate those who had died there? I'm not sure what we expected, but it certainly wasn't something that resembled Laguna Beach....

We stopped next at Porte du Hoc, a spot where German soldiers had built gun battlements capable of hitting both American landing sites. Warplanes had bombed the area prior to Rangers scaling the cliffs to overrun the site; DS really found this place really interesting. Our goal here became to find a crater that had been hit not by one, not by two, but by three bombs. (We were sure that one of the large craters we found had to have been hit by at least three bombs.)

When we returned to Paris about 9:00 pm, our goal was to find a sandwich to eat as we walked toward the Eiffel Tower. All of the sandwich shops were closed, however, so we sat outside at a cafe called Le Dome, or something, on the way. It was here that we ran into our first instance of being duped. When we got ready to pay the bill, it was 55.6 €. DH handed his credit card to the waiter, but he told us, "cash only." We had seen other waiters with those handheld credit card machines, but he insisted on cash. Of course, we didn't have exact change. The bill had included a VAT of 15%, but, when we handed him 60 €, he just said, "thank you," and walked off, not offering any change back. We had to shrug our shoulders and write that one up to experience. It was all forgotten, however, as we sat on the grass of the Champs de Mars and watched the Eiffel Tower's light show....

Bateaux Moches: great unintended malaprop.

Yes, they were kind of ugly, weren't they? Should always look up the correct spelling before I go guessing on my French words! lol

edgecorp, I'm really enjoying your trip report!

By the way, I too live in central/southern Illinois. We live close to St. Louis (in Glen Carbon, IL, near SIUE) but drive the five hours to Chicago because the prices are usually better and they have direct flights.

Tracy

Tracy,

We're just a bit north of Springfield.

Kim

Part 5 - Last day in Paris, in which we never quite make it inside Notre Dame

DS has decided he wants to live in Paris. I have always loved Paris, and one of my hopes for this trip was to instill some of that in my children. He loved the architecture, the dogs riding on the Metro and eating in the restaurants, and the bread!

We spent the last day here seeing the remaining sites (most) that were on our list: we went up the Eiffel Tower first thing, saw the Opera Garnier, and headed once again toward Notre Dame. As we approached it, I saw a sign for Sainte-Chapelle. Let's go in, I urged, because I had read that its windows were incredible when the sun was shining. The sun was shining brightly, and we spent a half-hour agog at the beauty of all the stained glass. Even though we're not Catholic, DS has decided that he will be married here.

I just read a biography of Marie Antoinette, so I convinced everyone else that we should head next door to the Conciergerie. Yawn. (And that one was from ME, who had wanted to go there.) Of course, by this time we discover that we need to hightail it back to the hotel to wend our way back to the airport, so we promise ourselves that we'll see the inside of Notre Dame the next time.

What town do you live in/near? One of my best friends in college grew up on a pig farm north of Springfield.

edgecorp -
I'm so enjoying your trip report. I especially like the details so please don't change your style!

missiepie,

We're in Chandlerville. My best friend growing up lived on a hog farm in Oakford. Did you go to Illinois?

Sorry for misspelling your name, missypie.

Also, to those who have offered words of encouragement, I sincerely appreciate it. I have been debating since we got back whether I wanted to post a report or not, because I view the world through rose-colored glasses - criticism makes me blanch. I decided, however, since this site gave me so many helpful hints, that I "owed" it the things I learned. I know that my details won't interest those who travel widely, because we just did normal, tourist-y things, but my details may be more helpful to those (like me) who are relative newcomers here.

Kim

I'm very familiar with Springfield. One of my DH's best friends lives in Chatham, not too far from Springfield. I have been meaning to visit Springfield and see the new Lincoln museum, as I heard its wonderful.

Tracy

Tracy,

You definitely need to see the Lincoln Museum.

Kim

Part 6 - London, where DH begins the illness that "plagues" him the rest of the trip

We reached London on the evening of July 29th. We were thankful to find that the Tube has more escalators than the Metro, especially since they are REALLY LONG escalators. We do a repeat of arrival at Paris - Tube from the airport, big suitcases up an escalator. We're at Holiday Inn Mayfair, primarily because of the air conditioning and because all four of us could share one room and save a bit of money. This could possibly be considered Screw-Up #3: the air conditioner was really more of an "air circulator," so after four people showered in one hotel room with the windows shut (you had to call hotel staff to unlock the windows if you wanted to open one), there was no hope of the cool dry air keeping apace with the hot humid air. I decided to take my Palm to the lobby to check e-mail, but I couldn't get a signal anywhere, so I paid to use the hotel computer. I decided to download my digital camera to www.Snapfish.com to send home, but there was no ActiveX installed, and, of course, the system wouldn't let me install it. Ditch that idea. Then, I tried to send some e-mails, but the keyboard began substituting different letters than the ones I was typing. I began trying to guess what key would type what letter - some of them were simply reversed, but the "M" was nowhere to be found! (I couldn't even type my name - Kim - without that pesky "M.") I tried to explain in my e-mail that the keyboard was [m]essed up....DD1 told me when I got home that she got an e-mail from me that made absolutely no sense.

Back up in the sauna, we began to try and plug in all of our electronics in preparation for the night. DH uses a CPAP machine (or, as we call it, his "respirator"), we had to recharge iPods, the Palm, digital camera batteries, and the cell phone. We found two plug-ins in the bedroom, and there were none in the bathroom. CPAP, of course, won out for one, and I had to arm wrestle DS to recharge my camera battery instead of his iPod.

Because bed size and body size were issues, DH and DS slept in one bed, and DD and I had the other. For that reason, I wasn't aware that DH spent much of the night in the bathroom. Without causing him too much embarrassment, it will suffice to say that DH's stomach took issue with its circumstances and refused to cooperate. He had little sleep, so he shooed the kids and I out the door in the morning so he could try and recoup.

For some reason, this became the morning from hell. DD, DS, and I took the Tube to Piccadilly. They looked at Piccadilly Circus, then at me, as if to say, "So what?" (I kind of had to agree.) We headed next to the Tower of London. DD wanted to read every word on every sign and listen to every nuance on the audio-guide; DS wanted to glance at a building and move on. DD's legs hurt; DS was thirsty. Concern over DD? Lack of confidence in their new general? Who's to say, but I finally had to pull the do- you- realize- how- much- we've- spent- on- this- trip card and the I- never- wanted- to- have- to- be- the- tough- guy- but- I'm- really- disappointed- in- you card. We got a drink and rested our legs for a bit, and those children who were excited to be having the experience of a lifetime finally re-emerged.

DD felt sufficiently recovered that afternoon to join us on a visit of Hampton Court Palace. When we returned to the hotel that evening, we walked around and found a Mediterranean place called the Offshore Cafe. We were the only patrons, because the storefront was being remodeled and it appeared to be closed. DH, fresh from his bout with the Plague, tried a salted beef and pickle sandwich, and I had a lamb targine with prunes; DD and DS weren't quite so adventurous - DD stuck with spaghetti, and DS began his love affair with croques monsieur, even though he had waited one city too late, IMO.

My friend was from Mason - or was it Mason City? We all went to ISU.

I am loving this report...and yes, all the details too:)

That is awful about Omaha Beach...I just cannot imagine anyone playing there. When we went, it was winter, and there was not another soul around, so it was a very different sight than what you had.

Keep the details coming!

missypie,

It's Mason City, which is also in Mason County. I live just in Mason County as well, so I'm only about 1/2 hour away from Mason City. Small world.

Kim

I also love all the details - it's what enables me to feel that I am on the trip with you!

Please keep it coming . . .
Linda

Part 7 - London, and the washerwoman of the 4th floor

I had thought to do laundry in London. It had been hot enough that we wore shorts and tees every day, and they needed some refreshing by now. Plus, out of DS's 18 pairs of socks, there were only 4 pairs that he REALLY liked. I had in my notes from Frommer's Unofficial Guide to London that the Holiday Inn Mayfair had laundry facilities. I believed that this meant I could go throw a load or two in, but it actually meant that I could pay someone well to do it for me. I had 4 packets of Woolite and a makeshift clothesline with suction cups, so I went to work that second evening in the bathtub. Of course, everyone else was tired and needed to rest in front of the television. By the time I had wrung out by hand the 8th t-shirt, my hands wouldn't grip anything more. I had to affect a minor meltdown in order to get DD and DS to help me wring out the rest of our wet wardrobe. I have to wonder what the maids thought as they made their way through our makeshift clothes drying system....

Even though DH's stomach still wasn't entirely up to snuff the next morning, he agreed to venture out to Windsor. We had actually all been up for quite a while - a fire alarm had sounded around 6:00 am. DH, DS, and I all raised our heads from our beds at the sound, but DD jumped up, shrieking, looking like a disheveled scarecrow, limbs all askew, as she fought her way through the drying clothes. By the time the rest of us realized what the sound was, it had stopped. Being the laid-back people we are, we stayed in bed. DD headed for the door, and DH thought to warn her that she should touch the door first to make sure it wasn't hot. She peeked into the hallway, and we could hear her talking with a few other souls out there. No fire there, and we couldn't smell any smoke. Back to sleep, we decided, until .... the alarm sounded again at 6:45. DD made for the door again, while we buried our heads under our pillows. "There's other people in the hallway," DD reported. "Ask them if their rooms are as hot as ours," I mumbled. They were.

We enjoyed Windsor immensely. I found it interesting that the carpets were simply rolled up to pull them out of the way of traffic. Also, we had been noticing billboards all around London reminding the citizens that they could not use hoses or sprinklers to water their gardens during the drought. We're from an area with very sandy soil, and all of the crops are under irrigation, so the watering of lawns and gardens is of immense interest to us. DS and I had stepped out of the Chapel at Windsor and overheard a male Castle worker and a female Brit talking about the drought. When they paused in their conversation, we began to ask questions: Is this drought new? (It seems to us that it always rains in London, but there is a shortage of rain this year.) Are people abiding by the no-hose rule? (Yes, and, even though castles don't have to abide by the statute, they are doing so in an effort to be "polite.")

We found a small restaurant called the Drury something-or-other (close to the Highlander) in Windsor for lunch. DH's stomach was off again, so he just got apple pie and hot tea while the rest of us ate a full meal. DS has segued over to British food finally - he is now onto fish and chips and refuses to try anything else. Fish for lunch, fish for dinner.

This is our last afternoon in London, so we plan to do The Walk: Buckingham Palace, Banqueting Hall (we had watched "The Last King" about Charles II before we came and were interested in seeing where his father had been beheaded), Parliament and Big Ben, Westminster Abbey. We have really tired feet by now. We would grab a bite to eat here if we could only find a place to eat. No luck. We would take the Tube back to the hotel if we could only find an entrance. We wander; we sit in a small park with an interesting little pavilion dedicated to the abolition of slavery. A boys' soccer team is scrimmaging and kicks the ball my direction - my kids yell for me to kick it back, but I throw it instead. When we finally make our way back to Mayfair, DS convinces us to go back to the same restaurant as the first night - Henry's, right across from the Green Park station. He likes their fish and chips. Go figure. (Although I had a sauvignon blanc there that was the best I've ever tasted. I think it was a Montana from Australia, so I make a note to see if I can find a reseller in my area when I get home.)

Back in the room, I pull out the ironing board to put some semblance of order to the newly-dry, hand-wrung clothes before we stuff them back into our suitcases. The iron works for about five minutes and then goes cold. (It's the hotel's iron, not mine.) I go downstairs to the front desk to ask for a replacement iron and request a fan while I'm there. They look surprised - an iron that doesn't work? And, your air conditioner isn't working properly? - but they politely comply with both requisitions. I buy 45 minutes on the lobby computer (they have another one in a far corner with a working keyboard, apparently) to send a sensible e-mail off to family and friends, and I agree to let DD and DS split the final 24 minutes checking their own e-mails. I wink at the gentleman sitting nearby as I get up to leave, and ask him to make sure they don't get in any arguments.

Part 8 - London to Paris to Munich via some Third-World country

Our flight from Heathrow to Paris CDG was supposed to leave at 2 pm; there was no gate assigned until 1:40, but everything seemed to go smoothly. I don't know if this is usual for Heathrow (late gate assignments), but, in retrospect, you have to wonder how much they knew at that time (August 1st) about the terrorist plot.

We did the usual tour at CDG - de-planing at some remote spot, busing it to the terminal. Our outbound flight to Munich was assigned to gate 78D, and we had well over an hour to wait. We kept following signs that listed only gates 78 and 79, as if these were "special" gates. We finally found them in the basement of CDG - they had their own x-ray machines and their own special attendants, who easily could have passed as Soviet KGB agents. It was like the Twilight Zone of CDG - there was a special restroom downstairs for gates 78 and 79, but you had to pass back through the x-ray machine if you went. I finally decided I needed to heed nature's call, so I left my belongings with my family to make a quick run out to the facilities. Nope. Can't do it. Have to take your belongings out with you to pee, then you have to have them re-x-rayed when you come back in. Whew. Of course, even though we were leaving through some special basement gate at CDG, we still had to board a bus to be taken to the nether reaches of the airport.

Munich Airport had about 20 people in it when we arrived that evening. We bought tickets for the S-bahn into the main train station and whizzed through the countryside toward Munich. The Haupbahnhof (main train station) is a huge, bustling place, as you might imagine, and there are escalators going up and down all over the place. We determine that we're at some middle level - we think the U-bahn (underground) is a level below us; we need to go up. We head for an escalator with our big suitcases, and just as we prepare to step on the first step ... the escalator stops! This can't be! We look around us, but all of the escalators have stopped moving. Are they on a timer? The lights are all on, so it's not an electrical issue. All we can do is shake our heads and head for the flight of steps that reach all the way to the stars....

Here is our first taste of German hospitality: DS's suitcase is relatively light, because he just has four pairs of shorts and 18 pairs of socks, so he makes his way quickly up the steps. I don't view DD's progress, but I know she is ahead of me. DH heads up and tells me he'll come back down to help. I start to "bump" the suitcase up the steps - lift it up one step, rest, lift it up another. I can sense a woman talking to a man behind me, and I see her gesture at him as if she's telling him off. Next thing I know, this slight German woman of my own age has grabbed a side handle of my suitcase and is helping me haul it up the steps. Apparently, the woman had asked her male companion to help me up the steps; when he refused, she just did it herself. I knew just enough to turn to her at the top of the steps and tell her "danke" with all my heart!

We had made reservations at the InterCity hotel, which is virtually adjacent to the train station. We were back to the two-room scenario, and DD and I were amazed to see that the large bed in our room had two down-filled blankets rolled on top but no sheet with which to cover. This was a rather novel concept for us; we enjoyed the freedom of having our own individual bedding, but the down-stuffed duvet was almost too warm. (The alternative of lying uncovered, however, was at the opposite extreme of the temperature spectrum - quite chilly.) We were hungry by this time, so we stepped across the street to the "Wienerwald" (perhaps the Ponderosa of Germany?) to each down a quarter of a chicken fixed various ways. For the first time since we'd left the US, we were served a soft drink over the size of 6 ounces - these glasses had to be 16 ounces! Huge Cokes! The kids had died and gone to heaven! I had a wonderful German beer, and I commented to poor DH as he sipped his Coke that he had picked a rotten time to contract the Plague.

Part 9 - Munich and sign language with our table-mates at the Hofbrauhaus

We took the S-bahn to the Marienplatz, or the old city center after we downed a stale pastry and some REALLY strong coffee at the train station. It's cooler here - cool enough to wear pants and forget about the hand-washed shorts and tees. We've seen on CNN that it's still really hot back home, and we're happy that we're not there to experience it.... We followed a general walking tour that I had copied from a Frommer's guidebook, and I rattled off what all of the buildings were supposed to be. We originally had intended to skip the Residenz Museum - I had read that it wasn't as interesting as Schloss Nymphenburg - but we decided on the spur of the moment to go in. We are so glad we did. Just seeing the Grotto and the photos of the destruction to the place during WWII was well worth it. As we walked through the opulence, we began asking ourselves about the family who had lived there - the Wittelsbachs. We hadn't realized that there was a Napoleon connection here - Josephine's son Eugene, whom Napoleon adopted, married Princess Augusta Amalia Ludovika Georgia of Bavaria. We hadn't taken the time to go to anything to do with Napoleon in Paris, so it was interesting to find so much information here.

That afternoon, we took the U-bahn and the tram to Schloss Nymphenburg. DH and I laugh because we live on a farm, far from the city, and our kids have been on almost every mode of transportation known to man in the past few days. We find the inside of the main palace at Nymphenburg to look rather worn but beautiful, and the carriages and sleighs in the Marstallmuseum look like something out of a fairy tale. What really catches my eye, however, is the Amalienborg - the "hunting lodge" built in the woods of the estate. The Amalienborg is small by palace standards, but every bit as ornate. There is a small room that has curved cut-outs at floor level all around the room. What can those be, we ask ourselves? I laugh and say, maybe their dogs stay there, because they are in the shape of the door to a doghouse. We ask a guide; No English, he tells us. The man taking tickets speaks English, and we ask him. Sure enough, the curved indentations are for dogs to sit in.

We made our way back to the famous Hofbrauhaus. It is filled with big, scarred, wooden trestle tables. We find an empty one and sit at one end; soon, two couples a bit older than DH and I join us. Before we know it, three liter-size glasses of beer have appeared at our end of the table - one for me, one for DH, and ... one for DD! She looks at us with a question in her eyes. Go ahead, we tell her. After all, it is legal for her to drink a beer here. I take a picture of DD and DS holding up these huge mugs of beer, and they have huge smiles on their faces! We make the acquaintance of our seat-mates, sort of. They know about 8 words of English; DD took one year of high school German and knows all of her numbers. Through their 8 words, our German numbers, and lots of hand signals, we can determine all of our children's ages and that the men are heading to a "football" (soccer) game, while the women intend to "shop." I suddenly recall that I had loaded German-to-English and English-to-German dictionaries on my Palm. I pulled it out of my purse to find that it was dead - no help there. It was amazing to be sitting by these complete strangers, trying to understand what the other was saying, but feeling like they could easily be our neighbors back home in our small town of 600. We could have been sitting in the small local restaurant in our own hometown; we felt very much at home in Munich.

Part 10 - Grayline tour of Ludwig's castles

This was the first truly rainy day we had - how fortunate. We met the bus for this tour right across the street from our hotel; there was some discussion between the tour guide and his "boss" concerning the fact that we'd booked on the internet. I could almost imagine that I heard reference to his "tip," but I could be mistaken. I began to wonder if we would be asked to fork over some more money or if the tour guide would be surly to us, but he turned out to be a very good guide. He was a college student in Munich, although he looked older than a typical 18-22 yr-old. I was impressed with the depth of knowledge he showed throughout the trip - there was one man who kept asking questions. One of those questions was something like - "I see cows grazing in pastures. If Bavaria serves so much pork, why aren't the pigs out grazing?" Of course, since we raise pigs ourselves, we knew the answer and have often responded to the same question, but the guide knew the answer: pigs are raised in buildings, as are most cattle that are not milk-producers.

It was on this trip that we met Willie and Billie. We had noticed several people on the tour with name badges that said "Deliverance at Hand." DH finally asked someone what the group was, and he was told that they were Jehovah's Witnesses who had been to a convention in Prague. Willie and Billie had been to this convention. They were 85 and 79, I believe, and they lived in Los Angeles. They asked DS's name, and he answered "Will." They laughed, because they were Willie and Billie; Willie got confused, though, and began to call DS "Marc," which was the tour guide's name. DS caught on and found it simpler to answer to Marc the rest of the tour.

We stopped at Linderhof Castle first, and it was my favorite. It was amazing, because it was this ornate palace that was created solely for King Ludwig - it had no guest rooms. There was a man-made waterfall out one of the windows that rumbled down these long stairsteps - we commented that it looked like a forerunner of an eternity pool.

The next stop was Oberammergau - the site of the famous Passion play. The town is renowned for its fresco paintings around the windows of its homes. Too bad it was raining - it was difficult to take pictures through the bus windows.

Finally we make it to the foot of the mountain where Neuschwanstein is perched. It is an interesting day - it is still misting rain, but there is fog floating along the peaks of the mountains, and the castle kind of peeks in and out from this fog, making it appear even more dream-like. We are urged to grab a bite at the Hotel Muller restaurant before we head up, and DD accidentally ends up with pickled trout. I ordered what I thought was a toasted cheese sandwich, but it was actually cold Swiss cheese tossed on two slices of bread.

We took the bus up to within 15 minutes of the castle and walked the rest of the way. Willie, who had had a hip replacement, rode in one of the horse-drawn carts, and she met our group there with a big smile. The inside of the castle wasn't as impressive as the outside - because the decor was all based on Wagnerian operas, one room pretty much looked like another.

On our return to Munich, questions about the upcoming Oktoberfest persuaded the tour guide to take a detour by the grounds. They are already setting up the facilities, and Marc (the guide) explained that virtually every Munich citizen will don lederhosen or dirndls when they attend the festivities.

If anyone goes to Fussen and does not see the Ludwig II musical in the evening, they are missing one grand show. I did this during my exchange south of Munich last September. It is a fantastic show. It is in German, but they do have English language plot summaries. The musical is stunning!

A tip, if you go out of season, as I did, buy the cheapest seats. It will not be sold out. Once you get there, they will exchange them for better seats. I went on a bus tour out of Scheidigg (near the Austrian border)where I was home exchanging and I did buy an inexpensive seat. I had no idea I would get upgraded, but I did.

I cannot say enough how wonderful this musical is. You will enjoy it even if you do not know two words of German. I bought the CD and enjoy the music often.

This musical was one of the highlights of my Bavarian trip, but, sad to say, there weren't many because the home exchangers' car basically did not run and I broke my ankle on the first day of the trip.

Anxious to see how the rest of your trip develops.

FauxSteMarie,

I saw advertising for the Ludwig musical, and it looked fascinating. I find him to be such an interesting "character" anyway. Sorry to hear about your travails on your trip.

It's getting late, and I'm running out of steam. I feel like I'm not giving my all to Munich, but we truly loved Bavaria. DD sings classically - sometimes in German, so I'm sure she would love the musical.

Kim

Part 11 - Last day in Munich: Dachau, and discovering that we are not technologically-minded at all

There was a light rain as we headed out to Dachau on our last morning - it seemed fitting. I have to wonder how much DS really knew about concentration camps, but he quietly read the information in the museum. (DH said he asked a lot of questions when they were lying in bed that night.) The reproduced barracks and the crematorium and gas chamber don't present the horror they could, because they are clean and devoid of any realism. Your mind just can't imagine that something that horrible could happen in such a lovely, tree-shaded park setting. Plus, when it gets to be too much, we just walk away.

We have our first and only American meal - we go to Burger King as DS wishes. The double cheeseburgers taste pretty much as they do in the US, but the onion rings were fried to within an inch of their lives.

We intended to spend the afternoon at the Deutsches Museum. We were primarily interested in the Automobile and Train segments - DS especially wanted to see the early Mercedes Benz. To our dismay, both of those exhibits were closed. We wandered through the aviation display and marveled at the cross section of the jumbo jet; the sailing ships were interesting as well. It was not any more, however, than what we have at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, and too many of the signs were not translated from the German. We decide that we enjoy learning about the history of an area more than looking through technical exhibits.

We left early and found our way back to the Marienplatz - we hadn't seen the glockenspiel at work yet, so we decided to try and grab a seat under the umbrellas of the beer garden across the plaza. We found a front-row seat, ordered a beer, and waited for the performance. A perfect send-off from a wonderful city. To make our last evening even more memorable, we strolled back to the area of the Viktualmarkt (food market) and found a restaurant called the Restaurant Bratwurstherz at Dreifaltigkeitsplatz 1. The ceiling was barrel-vaulted and lined with bricks, and the sausages were cooked over an open wood fire. We finished stuffing ourselves by ordering their dessert special, consisting of shredded crepes, covered with powered sugar, raisins, almonds, and applesauce. We waddled back to the hotel to pack for our flight home the next morning.

It will be interesting for me, as a mother, to see how this experience broadens the minds of my children. We don't go to any large city often, and DS was moved by the homeless people we saw everywhere. DD and DS both got to interact with people who were friendly and people who were not so friendly. They watched with disbelief as an American woman told us in the airport in Munich that we didn't "belong" in the line behind her, because we weren't flying first class. (All we had seen was the Air France insignia; we missed the "First Class" part.) They also watched a total stranger help their mother up the steps of the train station with her luggage. They talked to people from Australia, from all parts of the US, from Japan, and from Europe. They not only READ about history, they saw where it happened. I recall my older children saying how cool it was to read about Versailles in their history books and to know they'd walked in its halls.

I have enjoyed reliving our experiences by sharing them. I know that I found so much invaluable information here while I spent the past six months planning our adventure; maybe someone else will find something of use here.

Kim

Thank you for such a wonderful report! I absolutely enjoyed reading it.

Kim,
I really enjoyed your trip report.
Thanks for sharing.
Laura

Kim, thank you for taking us along on your trip with your family. I loved your report and your sense of humor. And aren't teens fun..especially when it comes to food! I can only imagine how long this report took you to type..thank you!! I must learn to take notes and write a report as so many of your Fodorites do..your report was truly interesting and charming.

I second LoveItaly's comments.
Thank you so much for a lovely evening read!

Kim,

Another poster now living in Southern Illinois. My husband grew up on a farm 50 miles north of Champaign. I am originally from the U.K. We do miss the direct connections out of St. Louis but prefer that to making the long drive to Chicago.

Nicely done report and enjoyed hearing about your family and adventures. Thank you for taking the time to post.

Sandy

Great report. It is eye-opening for kids to realize how others live. It will take a few years to find out how the trip has changed them but it certainly did.

Thanks for sharing.

>and DS was moved by the homeless people we saw everywhere.
In which city?

Thank you so much for all the detail in your report. As our daughter is studying classical vocal performance in college, you will probably understand her strong desire to have her college graduation trip be to Italy... with a focus on all the opera houses.

I have to ask, did you daughter ever get the urge to just break into song?? Our friends jokingly tell our daughter that she won't be able to control herself... the arias will just come pouring out! :-D

Thanks again for the great trip report. Your children are very lucky that their parents want to broaden their horizons!

TinaLee