Let Them Eat Cake

Entrance to Versailles, the last tickets I needed to buy before our trip have been purchased. Maybe I'll walk around ala Mel Brooks and say, "It's good to be the king." But, watch someone come up to me and exclaim instead, "You look like the lowly piss boy."

Something tells me my mother wouldn't be the one to say that, but there's no stopping her from turning to me and saying, "It's good to be the queen."

The Politics of Packing

Of course, I knew this question was coming.

"Oh, boy, how big of a luggage should I take?" my mother asked me today.

Now, I could have been evil and told her it all needs to go into one carry-on, but that's just not playing fair, so I've spent the morning going over not only what items to bring, but also the TSA restrictions. Since we're on a night flight, I recommended her toothbrush and morning essentials are easily accessible in either the overhead bin or under the seat in front of her. After all, we don't want to greet the Parisians with morning breath and sleepy eyes.

"Can I bring sneakers?"

"Of course. We're going to be walking a lot. Besides an umbrella for a potential April shower, bring whatever you wear during a normal week."

"I have a nice pantsuit and low dress shoes for when we go to a fancy dinner. Are white sneakers, okay?"

"As fashionable as the French may be, I hardly doubt they'll care what color shoes you're wearing."

"You're too funny, you have my sense of humor!"

But, thankfully, if you've ever seen pictures of me in my stilettos - not her fashion sense.

Boston First

When I first planned this trip, since I live on the west coast and my mom on the east, my friends asked if I were going to meet her in Paris. Perhaps it was the look on my face or the burst of laughter followed by an emphatic, "Are you crazy?" that made them realize the levity of their query. That would require, on top of all the other worries, one - my father driving Rosemarie to the airport and two - my mother flying by herself. I'd have a better chance of winning the California and Massachusetts state lotteries simultaneously than those events ever happening. So one week from today, I leave for the first leg of my trip: Boston. The rent-a-car works out perfectly so only I have to drive to Logan, which you can bet will be bright and early despite our 2 pm flight (hence the red carpet treatment).

Since my move to San Francisco twenty years ago, I go back to Boston about once a year. I despise the cold, so it is never in the winter, although that first visit back to Medford was for Thanksgiving. I was thinner (oh happy memories) and sported a crazy goatee/beard look that to this day, I don't know what I was thinking. My mom, just like when I was in school, was in the kitchen when I got home. In fact, I first wrote about my mom and her location at our kitchen table in an essay that I called "Sipping Coffee," which was published in the fourth edition of America Now: Short Readings from Recent Periodicals.

Since those first visits, I've really come to appreciate my family. Chalk it up to getting older, becoming wiser, whatever you'd like to think. Whatever it is, I always find time in my schedule to spend time with my relatives. This visit also turns out to be Easter weekend and that means insane amounts of food. You're probably thinking, perhaps you shouldn't eat so much before you go to a city of gastronomic delicacies, but we are Italian (I'm a 1/4 Lithuanian too, but that's another story) and refusing food - no matter if it's coming from my 92-year-old Aunt Lil or my Godmother, Aunt Louise - is not an option.

This all fits in nicely since my mom loves to eat, despite the misconception that she consumes nutrition like a bird. But really, when you think about it, birds are always eating, so the metaphor fits. The first thing I'll probably buy her in The City of Lights is a chocolate eclair at a cafe where we'll sip some coffee and talk about everything from childhood to California and all the stuff in between. Now, I'll take that over winning two state lotteries any day.

The Red Carpet Treatment

Living in Los Angeles, I see red carpet events everywhere, and in fact, they can be quite annoying with the traffic and congestion they cause. However, working at NBC has its perks as it has allowed me to attend the occasional Hollywood affair, but always, I've had to enter the venue from the side entrance. After all, wouldn't want to be mistaken for somebody worthy of the paparazzi flash. When I've vacationed with my friend Wayne, whom traveling with also has its advantages, I experienced my first into the red carpet world of airline lounges. Civilized seats, snacks, coffee, tea, fabulous customer service and most important of all, clean and private bathrooms.

Now, my mother likes to arrive at places even earlier than I do, and since Wayne is not traveling with us, I thought it would be great to give Rosemarie the red carpet treatment. I'll be the only paparazzo taking pictures, but at least she won't have to enter from the side - we're walking in through the front.

Things That Make You Go Awww

Take your pick of all the things that make you all tingly inside: newborn kittens, cute babies, any kind of puppy gathering or skateboarding dog. No matter what it is, there's something wonderful about the experience that makes you go, "awww." And, it's been happening all the time with this trip.

When I tell people I'm going to Paris, they immediately ask me if I'm going with anyone.

"I'm taking my mom," I say, and then wait for the response that I got when I asked my boss for the two weeks off from work.

"Awww," he said. "What a good son."

My cousin, Sandra said the same thing, but added very succinctly, and without missing a beat, "Then again, she's a good mom."

She is indeed.

All together now, "Awww."

24/7 Senior

Today, I received our actual rail tickets for our weekend in Belgium. I have to admit, as much as the convenience of e-ticket travel has changed the world, I love the feel of actually holding a real piece of paper in my hand. Senior prices only apply to weekday travel, so I saved a total of $6 on the return ticket, which prompted my mom to make the excellent point that she's a senior citizen on weekends too.

And I discovered my mobile phone doesn't work in Europe. However, Verizon has a cool service that allows you to rent a global phone that you return once you're back in the United States. It'll be nice to have a phone in case I need to call Serge if the trains are late, which in Europe is highly unlikely. Now don't be thinking I'll answer any calls when I'm on vacation. If I see a number that's not European, off to voicemail you go. Read the blog, it's a lot cheaper. Senior discount be damned.

What's Wrong with our Money?

I'm so old that I remember when ATMs first made their appearance in the world. I found that gleaming machine behind the glass door at the Medford Savings Bank simply fascinating. You put a credit card in and out came the money. I no longer had to talk to the silly teller behind the bullet proof glass. Alas, my parents have never really embraced what was once a newfangled machine.

"How much money should I take with us?" my mom asked me today.

"We gave you Euros for your birthday, so we're set once we land and then I'll use the ATM."

"What happens if we need to buy things in cash. What's wrong with our money?"

"It's Europe," I replied. "They don't take our money."

"ATMs don't spit out Euros, I get dollars when I use one."

Since the only thing between us was the phone, I quickly dialed her number so I could explain how it all works and truly laugh out loud. God bless her. It really is going to be an adventure of a lifetime.

All Aboard!

My mom loves train travel and today I've booked our tickets to Belgium to see my friend Serge and his husband, Philippe. I met Serge in 1998 when we were both visiting Los Angeles. I was still in San Francisco and frequently came to the Southland to escape the fog and cold of The Bay Area. When I went on sabbatical from Informix Software and traveled to Europe for four weeks, I spent the last leg of my trip in Belgium at Serge and Philippe’s charming house. Their dogs were a wonderful brood that I soon realized - after I told one to sit and getting a very quizzical look - that not one understood a word of English. Perhaps Whistle and Winston will still remember me, but my Flemish and French are as bad as my penmanship, so I expect the same looks as the last time.

Over the years, Serge and I have stayed in touch via real mail with handwritten letters. Well, he writes his and I type and sign my name since my penmanship is just horrendous. Even though we haven't seen each other in over ten years, it feels like yesterday that we were just sharing beers and eating pommes frites with mayonnaise, and oh yes, watching that fierce drag queen performing Eurovision's latest hit, Take Me To Your Heaven.

As for my mom, well travel by rail becomes her more than planes. I learned that when I was in the fifth grade and my parents took my brother and me to DisneyWorld. Her fear of flying relegated us to Amtrak, where my brother and I played card games and were annoyingly amused by a little Latin girl who kept speaking Spanish to us every time she peered her round little face over the back of her seat. There was also that strange vacationing family of blondes who were headed to Clearwater, Florida - a place after listening to them for one and a half days, I was sure to put on my list of places never to visit.

Now Belgium is another story – give me a waffle and a pint of beer and then even my mom won’t be able to understand what I’m saying.

Cash In Our Pockets

After that first business trip to Europe, I decided that not seeing the world was a sin, and since I was raised Catholic, I knew all about sinning. As silly as it may sound, one of the things I love about Europe is their money. It reminds me of playing Monopoly with my mom and being very upset when I didn't get to own Pacific Avenue and its green companions.
She didn't like to play with me very often, I got rather pissy when I didn't win.

My mom turned 75 on February 25, so my brother and I gave her $100 in Euros. She's never seen European cash and I thought she'd get a kick out of getting some for her birthday. Plus, with some cash in hand, we won't have to worry about finding an ATM right away. I never like to get to the country I'm visiting without a little bit of the local currency readily available.

"How does these work?" she asked as if the bills were supposed to come with instructions.

"It's money!" I said. "You pay for things with it."

"Oh, they're very pretty," she said as if they were works of art that were supposed to be admired. "And blue, my favorite color."

Maybe that's why she always bought Boardwalk and Park Place. No wonder I lost.

Good Values

The dollar may not be strong against the Euro, so when you can find a good value it's always worth it. Today's United European Fare Spring Sale resulted in a nice discount of the tickets my mom and I have for our trip. Of course, I dreaded calling customer service. Years of working the phones at US Sprint and Intuit Software taught me all too well what goes on in a call center. Some of my favorite memories are when my friend Georgia and I played supervisor for each other.

"Georgia, you want to be the boss? I have a nasty one for you."

"Send him over, honey."

But, today was a different story, and after much transferring and disconnections, I got a United Representative who issued us new tickets at the lower fare. I certainly fared (pun intended) better than that woman who wound up on my US Sprint line saying that there was a 900 sex line number on her phone bill and no one could have possibly made that call.

"Who else lives with you, ma'am?" I asked.

"My 10-year-old grandson, and he goes to bed at 9pm," she quipped.

No supervisor transfer needed.

Ticketing Made Easy

What's the first thing you should do when you get to Paris? Well, besides grabbing a glass of wine and eating a chocolate éclair, it has to be going to the Eiffel Tower. Since it was where I made the now famous phone call home, I thought it the best place to start the trip. It's crazy to think how easy it is now to get tickets than when I first went to Europe. Museums, trains, Versailles, everything is right at my fingertips online.

"How do we get up to the top?" my mom asked me.

Now, I could have told her we walk, but I thought it best to mention the lifts. Ever since her siblings trapped her in the middle of a Ferris Wheel seat and rocked the car back and forth, my mom's been afraid of heights, so it's going to be an experience.

"Then what?"

"Then I leave you up there," I told her.

"You're not funny."

The Pre-planning

Those of you who know me well know that I love to plan, and plan I did. With help from my friend Barbara -the only good thing to come out of my job at Macy's - I found a hotel right in the Marais district.

http://www.beaubourg-paris-hotel.com/

Rosemarie is busy printing out every little detail I send her. And you wonder where I get my planning and attitude from?

We leave on April 6 and I arrive in Boston on April 3 to calm her pre-travel nerves. She has her passport for the very first time and I'm determined to get her to smoke a cigarette with me at a cafe over a glass of wine - just because it's Paris and we can.

Come Along for the Ride

At the risk of feeling very important and thinking everyone would like to come along on a trip of a lifetime with me and my mom - I'm planning on my very first blogging experience.

Four weeks from today, Rosemarie and I leave for Europe on a trip I've dreamt about for years. Back in 1995, when I was at Informix Software, I arrived in Paris for business on a cold winter's day. In a cab from the airport to my hotel, I thought, "my mom would love this city." It snowed that night, and I called her from a payphone (!) and told her how beautiful the Eiffel Tower looked as the flurries continued to fall. Ever since then, it's been my goal to show her one of my favorite cities in the world.

I'd be honored if you came along for the ride.