London, Paris, Rome--Made Easy Read online

  On the walk back to our hotel we stopped at a “pharmacy,” which is like a small version of Walgreens, and got some chocolate. Yes, if you are a chocolate fan, don’t miss out on the real Cadbury chocolate.

  When we got back to the hotel, we sat and enjoyed the beautiful lobby for a bit, then went up and relaxed for bed.

  Resting During Travel

  This trip was a long haul for us. Thirteen days total. Three different cities. Four days in each city.

  Purpose of your trip.

  I knew going in I wanted to see sights. This was the main reason for my trip. It wasn’t to see shows. It wasn’t to meet people, though we did anyway and it was fun. It wasn’t to go to the best restaurants, though we did anyway and had great food.

  No.

  The purpose was to see things. To enjoy the sights and take it as it comes.

  But I need to emphasize here: your feet hurt.

  Don’t pack in too much.

  At night, don’t go to shows. Don’t feel like you have to pack it in. Take time to rest so you can enjoy the next day and the next day.

  Don’t overeat. Yes, eat, enjoy, but restrain yourself. Don’t eat like it’s your last meal.

  Plus, travel is semi-stressful. Duh. Right. Especially when you’re navigating where you’re going, what is next, what you want to see.

  So give yourself time to rest. Journal. Reflect. You have paid a lot of money for this trip. Or someone has. Enjoy it by taking care of yourself.

  Before I left on my trip, I had lots of advice from people who went. After getting way too much advice, I decided on a couple of things:

  First, I wanted to arm myself with knowledge of where I needed to go, what I could expect, what I needed to have. But I wouldn’t tolerate fear. Don’t tell me about a certain event going on in the world that might hurt me. Don’t use fear tactics on me before I go on the best trip of my life. Focus on useful information, but not things that will scare you or dissuade you from enjoying your trip.

  Second, don’t let people take the fun out of your trip. Hear the best things they enjoyed, but make decisions on what you want to do for yourself. Don’t worry about them. Don’t try to have your trip be just like theirs. Once again, arm yourself with information, then do what you want.

  Third, trust that it will be the best trip ever. Trust that your experience will be amazing and exactly as it should be. Then, when things don’t work out exactly as they should, go with it. Enjoy the challenge. Get curious about it, not frustrated. Let it go and let whatever is supposed to happen, happen.

  Of course, that doesn’t include getting tossed where you don’t want to go. You have to battle for your vacation too.

  Rally. Ask questions. Make friends who can help you.

  I always go across the spectrum between kind to aggressive. Try it the kind way, then pushy, then begging, then aggressive—you know, just make it work.

  Have a plan, and then let go and let amazing things happen.

  Friday, June 10, 2016

  A Day of Miracles

  We showed up to do a tour of St. Paul’s Cathedral and found it closed and all these people around. Then someone told us we were twenty minutes out from the Queen showing up for a service in commemoration of her 90th birthday. Oh my goodness. Crazy, right? So we stayed.

  People from all over the world were there to catch a glimpse of the Queen. My husband and I shuffled in behind the press, probably four rows of people back. It was crazy to think that we’d stumbled upon a visit with the Queen. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But seriously, the chance to see the Queen, to be in the same vicinity without even knowing it? Pretty cool.

  All the other royal family showed up first, and then—five minutes late—the Queen showed up wearing a very spiffy yellow dress. My husband recorded it. It’s kinda awesome!

  And before she showed up, the air was positively electric. People were excited. One man standing next to me had come from America and had been planning to come for over two years. He was a great resource on all things British and the Queen, and we asked him who was who and he told us about the list of events for the next week.

  It was cool, and the coolest part was that we had let ourselves be led and enjoy the experience we were given. My husband didn’t care at all about seeing the Queen, but then he got in the spirit of it and enjoyed it all, too.

  The bells from St. Paul’s Cathedral were blasting away and the day was sunny. I looked up at the old trees, which were huge and daunting and glistening in the sun. It was actually sunny in London, and I was stunned to think, The Lord seems to be smiling down on the Queen for this special day. Which is kind of ridiculous, because I don’t believe the Queen is anyone that special—other than the fact she’s the Queen. It was cool to be there, to be part of history.

  The quirky know-it-all guy next to us was slightly choked up when the Queen arrived, went up the steps, and looked back and waved. He was cute, and I was happy for him. He’d fulfilled his dream of being in London for this week.

  I thought about how most people are happy for others when they’ve achieved their dream, any dream, when it has been something sought for and won. Just like my trip. I’d worked hard for it, I’d waited for 18 years for this trip, and others were happy for me. Most importantly, I was happy for me.

  After seeing the Queen and having our tour of St. Paul’s put off until 2:30 p.m., we headed on foot toward the Globe Theater. It was roughly a ten-minute walk across the Millennium Bridge, which starts near the London School.

  The Globe Theater

  I didn’t want to miss this site. My husband didn’t care about it, but he was game because he knew I’d always wanted to go there. I mean, c’mon, who can resist the place where Shakespeare performed his plays? Actually, it’s a replica, but still!

  It’s unmistakable because the thatched roof is the only one in London since 1666, when there was a great fire that burned down most of London. You can’t tour London without many of the historical sites talking about the Great Fire of London. So because of fire codes, the Globe is the only site with a thatched roof.

  After touring the Globe, we ate lunch at Swan at Shakespeare’s Globe, which is right next to the theater. I ordered the Midsummer Night’s Dream Afternoon Tea, and my husband ordered the Gentleman’s Afternoon Tea (see pictures). It was lovely. I definitely recommend eating in the restaurant attached to the Globe Theater.

  St. Paul’s Cathedral

  After lunch, we headed back up to St. Paul’s for the third attempt to get in. When we arrived, there was a line around the corner and we worried it’d take forever. Nope, it only took twenty minutes, and we met some fellow Americans who had traveled all over France and were more than happy to tell us about their experience and give us tips and tricks—third time was a charm.

  That’s the joy in finding other fellow travelers: they want to share the things they’ve learned. It’s wonderful.

  As I said earlier, it cost eighteen pounds with the audio tour, but was well worth it.

  I can’t even tell you the stunning effect St. Paul’s had on me. I loved Westminster Abbey, and I loved learning about the people who were buried there. But St. Paul’s had a history that inspired me, starting with Christopher Wren, the architect who built it in the 1600s after the great fire and who built 50 chapels around London.

  When you listen to the tour and you listen to St. Paul’s life and the paintings that were inspired out of his life, it moves you. This man was one of the worst persecutors of Christians. This man killed Christians until an angel of God struck him down. This man, Saul, then changed his name to Paul because he couldn’t stand his previous life of persecuting the people of Christ. He was an amazing man. The suffering he endured, I think, was a good reason and a good memorial to his life.

  The sanctity of his example is for all Christians. Yes, I may be sounding a bit preachy, but this chapel is a tribute to all Christians and I am thankful for it.

  The whole thing is laid out in the f
orm of a cross and the dome is 365 feet high, symbolizing the days in a year. (I thought it was cool to think of the next foot being the foot of the ascension back to God.)

  When you hear the story of how the architect was able to slope the brick and mortar to form the dome, something that had never been done before, you will feel the hand of God in it. You will know that God inspired Christopher Wren. I felt it and was humbled by it.

  The best part of St. Paul’s is taking the 152 steps, 119 steps, then another 119 steps. So there are three sets of stairs that reach three tiers: the first one goes to the Whispering Gallery, the second goes to the Stone Gallery, and the last reaches the top.

  Warning: I wouldn’t go to the Stone Gallery or the top if you have any medical concerns.

  If you are in fairly good physical shape, I would go to the Whispering Gallery. The staircase is wide and the first 119 steps aren’t too bad … she says with a puffing grin. Then there is space and you can walk around and see below.

  If you choose to go up after the first tier, you’re in for a penny, in for a pound, as the English would say. It’s hard to turn and go back. The staircase gets smaller and smaller. And when you get to the second tier, you can go back down.

  But if you do go for the top, there’s no turning back. It’s steep and small, so if you’re big, if you have knee problems, if you have asthma, if you have a fear of heights or claustrophobia—don’t do it.

  But if you feel like you can hear—ahh—the sound of angels … it’s amazing!

  Worth it!

  F.Y.I.: As I’ve told you about my pet peeves about the bathroom situation, St. Paul’s had no working bathrooms. Hello! Thousands of people go through this Cathedral every day and they don’t have working bathrooms.

  Laundry in London

  At our hotel in London, it would have cost us roughly 225 pounds to have them do it. They charge for every individual piece, including underwear, bras, socks, etc.

  So my savvy husband found a laundry place called a launderette (a laundromat in America) and spent three hours one night doing laundry. He did this after what was a pretty long day out. I was tired and fussy and he volunteered to just take all of our stuff and launder it.

  Total cost about 20 pounds. Big difference. Totally worth it.

  One thing to keep in mind is there are self-service launderettes and ones that will take a bag of clothes and launder them for a flat fee per bag of clothes. However, make sure you know how long it will take them to launder your stuff. When my husband asked one shop for a quote, they said it’d take two days. Well, we were catching the train to Paris in two days, so that would’ve been a problem.

  4

  Chapter Navigating the Eurostar

  We went from London to Paris on Saturday, June 11, 2016—the day thousands of fans were going to Paris for Euro 2016 the European Soccer (fútbol) Championship in France. We had no idea when we booked the trip there would be such a mad rush to Paris that week. But, c’est la vie. Don’t worry about it. Go with it.

  We took the Underground from South Kensington to King’s Cross/St. Pancras, which is the terminal where the Eurostar trains depart from. When you get off the Underground, you have to find the aboveground rail departures, which requires a bit of a walk because the terminal is so large. When you finally get to the aboveground rail area, you then have to figure out where the Eurostar counters are, find your train, check in and get through a security checkpoint. We found out that the security checkpoint closes approximately 30 minutes prior to departure and we got there with about 5 minutes to spare. Bottom line: give yourself plenty of time so if the unexpected happens you’re not stressed.

  Remember that in London, everything is in English. Yes, we worry about that as Americans, but they announce everything in English first, then in French. And all the staff we dealt with were very accommodating.

  We bought our tickets online a few months in advance for 417 dollars, around 208 dollars per person. My husband upgraded us to Standard Premier, which is the Eurostar’s first/business-class service. You can get tickets cheaper, but the upgrade was worth it, I think. Smooth ride. You felt very pampered.

  Entering France on the Eurostar

  Going through the English Channel was beautiful. No big deal, really. I know, you hear people say, “I don’t know if I could do that. It’s underwater.” But everyone does it. Not to sound like a commercial, but they do. Some every day. It’s just easy and fun, and it’s not as long as you think.

  The French countryside is beautiful, picturesque—exactly what you would think it would be when entering France. I loved it. Of course I tried to get some pictures on the Eurostar. It didn’t work, but that’s fine. That’s what postcards are for.

  One thing I noticed was a church at the center of each little town. I was in awe of the lush green of it all, the flowers blooming, the farm country, the homes that looked very quaint. Everything looked quaint with a slightly sleepy feel, like a long-forgotten relaxed era of life.

  Of course I know towns like this exist in America. My parents grew up in a small farming community in southwest Utah, and I would go visit my grandparents every summer and stay with them.

  Maybe that’s what I like about the French countryside … it’s more relaxed.

  To be honest, I wish I spoke French for this trip. It was one of my goals to learn it, and I didn’t. It was stressing me out so much. I had to let it go because I was trying to plan for too much. But next time, I will know French.

  It is a beautiful language, so fluid and romantic. To me, anyway. I want to be able to speak in the sensual, kind way they speak. I feel language colors your world, and I want to color mine with beauty and sensuality and joy.

  5

  Chapter Pickpocketed in Paris at Gare du Nord Train Station

  Yes, if any of you are seasoned travelers, you won’t be surprised by this.

  I’m telling the rest of you because you think it won’t happen to you. You think you’re safe because you have your wallet in your front pocket. You’re wrong.

  Here is a play-by-play of our experience. If you don’t want to read the dirty details, I understand, but you should be prepared for what could happen.

  When we got off the Eurostar, we ended up in an airport-like place where people can get tickets for the Metro, Paris’s version of London’s Underground, or go out and find a taxi. We should have found the taxi. But we thought, Hey, it’s cheaper and as safe and easy as it was in London—no big deal.

  Because we had arrived with a bunch of soccer fans there for Euro 2016, the line to get Metro tickets took forever. After we got tickets, we started for our train platform. Right away, we were surrounded by three gypsy-looking children and a “mother.” The “mother” was wrapped in a sarong, and the little girls looked about ten years old and were so sweet. They kept asking if I would sign a petition for deaf children.

  My husband didn’t want to stop, so I said, “I don’t understand,” and kept walking. They got kind of forceful until I said no forcefully, too.

  (Later I discovered this is a distraction tactic they use to pickpocket.)

  Then we went down the stairs to the platform to catch our train.

  At this time, like most times in France, the train workers were on strike. And because of the crowds heading to the soccer games, the train platforms were labeled incorrectly and the trains were not operating as scheduled.

  Of course, we didn’t know any of this when we ventured down to the platform.

  So my husband and I were both dragging rather heavy suitcases behind us. I did have a purse across my body and I had put my phone in my bra. My husband had his phone out and was trying to use the RATP Subway Paris App to help figure out what train to take to our hotel.

  Immediately, it felt dark and scary in the Metro. I say this as a person who gets teased by my mother about having no fear in big cities. When I was eighteen I went to Washington D.C. and went all over on the subway by myself, no problems, no fear. As you can imagine,
she freaked a little when I told her.

  So I am trying to figure it out, too. There are a lot of tourists, but no obvious Americans (because they were all smarter than us).

  At this point, I don’t know what religion you are as you read this book, but at this point I believe the Lord warned me. As I looked at one teenage face, the thought He wants to pickpocket your husband distinctly entered my mind. I told my husband, “Be careful, he wants to pickpocket us,” and I turned my eyes back to the guy.

  My husband said, “Okay,” but was distracted because he was still trying to figure out the trains. I turned the other way and saw other teenage boys standing by us, and I felt that dark feeling of warning. By then the train had pulled up and we were shuffling to get on.

  Right as we almost got on, a younger girl with a baby in a stroller moved in front of us. It was commotion because lots of people were getting off of the train, so I waited, then got on. As I turned back I could see my husband trying to get on, but there were a bunch of people around him jostling him and keeping him from getting on the train.

  Then he got on. Immediately, he felt his front pocket and said, “My wallet’s gone.” Then he turned and saw the boys running, and he yelled, “Thief! Give me back my wallet!” And he hopped off the train and ran after them like he was Mitch Rapp in a Vince Flynn novel.

  I’m grateful I had enough sense to get our bags and hop off the train—it took off right away.

  So there I stood, looking around this dark, full Metro platform, staring up about twenty cement steps. I pulled my luggage to the steps and wondered if I should attempt to take the two heavy bags to the top.

  I felt myself start to shake and I almost started crying. While I understood my husband wanted his wallet back and I wasn’t sure if his passport was in his wallet or how many credit cards were in there, I also worried the teenage boys might turn around and knife him or beat him up, and then what would I do?

  It has been a long time since I have felt this vulnerable in my life. Here I was, in a country where I don’t speak the language. I didn’t know where, exactly, I was, or how to get help. And I didn’t know how to find my husband.