After reading my last post and seeing how dark it felt I'd like to take this moment after some reflection and DOUBLE DOWN GODDAMIT. I know for a fact that if you die in your dreams you die in real life so you might think that a good solution would be to stop dreaming period, but let me tell you that ain't no way to live. RIP Dreams 2025. You had a good run.
Whew. Take a breath.
Back in 1991, I received a full ride scholarship to the University of Missouri. Almost as soon as I picked up my high school diploma, I loaded my car and left home, finding a job and couch sitting until college started. I then proceeded to nearly fail out of school, before settling on a major. I chose French. (HE CHOSE FRENCH, PEOPLE). It made no sense, and it came with zero job prospects, but we live with our choices. I mean that metaphorically.
At some point, I realized that I might actually need to learn how to speak French, so I did what any normal person would do - I missed the deadline on the French study abroad program and went to Romania, instead, because that was the only program left with any spots available. And I never went to France.
Fast forward to August 2025. My sister-in-law was talking to my wife about going to France and would we like to come and because I was intoxicated I said, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME, I MAJORED IN FRANCE."
I legitimately tried to back out, because the world is on fire, but long story short, I went to France.
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So, preparing for a foreign trip is a lot different than it was 30 years ago. Back then, you had no internet, no cell phones, no money and no frontal lobe development (THAT'S A GOOD THING). You had to buy actual hard copy travel guides and carry paper tickets and sew traveler's cheques into your undergarments. Nowadays, your sister-in-law has Claude AI script the entire 10-day experience down to the minute, which is where the lack of frontal lobe development would come in real effing handy.
Plus, there are YouTube videos. Lots and lots of YouTube videos, and I'll be honest, perhaps my second favorite part of the trip was spending each night before our departure watching a host of very charming content creators walk us through the French experience. Speaking as non-cynically as I can, I really, really loved watching these videos.
***
I don't love flying. I used to. But it was utterly exhausting waking up at 4 am and flying to Paris. We had a layover in Dulles, and had decent enough seats with United to Charles de Gaulle. I watched half of The Pitt (which I would finish on the flight home), but then navigating the car rental process after leaving an insanely cumbersome customs process and trying to drive to Normandy was taxing. The rumors about French rudeness were completely overblown (the people on the street and in shops and in restaurants with whom we interacted, both in Paris and beyond were overwhelmingly kind and charming), but the drivers - absolutely awful. I was also tired. And sober. Take that as you will.
The four of us (me, Alex, her sister and husband), then made our way towards our timeshare in a little commune known as Connelles. On the way, since it was still early, we stopped by a castle. France is basically just a series of interconnected castles.
We then stopped by the nearest town, Les Andelys, to buy cheese and wine and croissants, which is something you do everyday in France, usually 5 or 6 times a day and then once or twice at night. And then we arrived at our residence, the Karma Manoir des Deux Amants, which roughly translates into "NO ONE HAS EVER VISITED HERE GOING BY YOUTUBE". I absolutely love this place.
It's adjacent to a wee island in the Seine, and even though we could never figure out the hot water or dual washer/dryer or avoid concussing our heads on the bizarrely shaped ceilings, every morning I could walk outside and experience wildlife and nature and peace and massage my frontal lobe.
The next day, we drove to Honfleur -
And Etretat -
In Honfleur, I really started to brush the rust off my French, and had a lovely interaction with a pair of shop owners, who allowed me and my brother-in-law to taste the different styles of calvados, which is a magical, evil elixir distilled from apples, and I could have just ended my trip there and been happy and content and amnesial.
The next day, we visited Monet's gardens in Giverny -
Which were absolutely lovely, as long as you could ignore the 6 million people they allowed onto the premises because capitalism. And I was all out of calvados.
We then drove to Versailles.
Personally, I think the YouTube videos do the castle of Versailles justice. But I was mesmerized by the gardens. My sister-in-law hurt her knee, so we pleaded with the staff to take us back up via golf cart, and it wound up being a magical visit. Driving back home through the town was a bit traumatic, but I knew there was plenty of wine and cheese and calvados awaiting.
The next day, we took the train back to Paris for some shopping and to see Notre Dame.
This was a side trip, as we would spend our last two nights in Paris, but I was happy to ride the train. The train was such a key memory of my time in Europe before, and being able to watch the countryside fly by without a French driver riding my tail was a respite.
The next day, we traveled to Rouen, which was gorgeous.
Plus, they had a Starbucks. And my favorite cheese.
Then, the next day, more castles and a flea market and dinner at the Moulin de Connelles, which is situated over the Seine and they had calvados. Oh, the food.
The next next day, we drove four hours to Mont Saint Michel.
In spite of my discomfort with crowds, this place was so worth the pain it took to get there and back again. I may have even smiled once or twice and temporarily ignored the cloud of hopelessness that has been following me around.
We said farewell to Connelles the next day and made our way to the Hotel Ampere in Paris. We visited the Arc de Triomphe and Champs-Elysees and caught a show at Crazy Horse. The next to last day we did the usual circuit of Montmartre, Seine and Eiffel Tower.
I have so many photos, but was also cognizant of all the people around me with their cell phones up in the air wondering if I was just capturing memories instead of making them.
My favorite memories were of regular interactions with the locals, practicing a bit of French. At the flea market, they had a refreshment stand and were serving rose in little paper cups. Right before they closed, I asked the woman, is it too late for another cup of rose? And she replied, it's never too late for another cup of rose.
Getting home was exhausting. We flew to O'Hare in a Dreamliner. The airport was crowded and hot and disorganized. When we arrived in Seattle, we waited impossibly long for our parking lot shuttle. At home, I saw that our garden was impossibly overgrown with tomatoes.
And then it was over.
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