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 View All Diary Entries HereDecember 8, 2002It started when we checked into the wrong hotel. We walked up the cobblestone street with our five huge pieces of luggage, me wearing my mother's luscious mink coat and feeling very grand. We stepped into what we thought was going to be a creamy lobby, a charming and nice hotel. Instead it was small, worn, and drab. The floor was being mopped, and it felt like with my hair. We, with our carry-ons, barely fit into the elevator and were shown to a tiny room with the walls the color of Arkansas pond scum and the wooden trim an enamel kelly green. We thought we might have to sleep on our luggage piled on our beds as "The Princess and The Prince and The Very Uncomfortable Pea." I want to say, "Quelle damage!", although I'm not sure what it means. (We ran out of time for our French lessons as we were sweating over all the details to leave.) It has the right sound anyway.We'd worked so hard (way much more about that later) to get here, leaving what was left undone. Our adult daughters, Blair and Bret, and dear friend Patti, and we boo-hooing as we drove away. This, of course, required a stiff drink at the airport, though not another one until we boarded our Air France flight in Atlanta. When drinks were served, we had to have a champagne. We finally were on our way though as tired as beat hound dogs. At the airport, we snagged a wonderful driver named Jacques who had a van that could hold all Our Stuff. We told him about Chasing Matisse, feeling very proud. He talked about Paris and delivered us...to what we thought would be the haven for us to rest and sleep, relax after this six-month long sprint to leave the country and our old lives behind, to learn to see in the new lives we would find. We thought we had booked the Victoria Palace. We had arrived in Paris to begin our big adventure, but Jacques had delivered us to the address we told him, the Victoria Hotel. Definitely not the right one. As Jacques drove away and left us, it seemed absolutely appropriate that his last name was Misery. But at least we were here. posted by Beth on December 8, 2002 | View All Diary Entries View All Diary Entries Here
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