Panic.
Where was she? How was I going to find her?
As darkness settled in, my eyes frantically scanned the hundreds and hundreds of people hurriedly crisscrossing in front of me, trying to spot my daughter’s red coat. Why do so many people wear red? There ARE other colors, you know.
Above me stood the massive Dame de Fer, la Tour Eiffel, one of the most recognized buildings in the world. I’d always considered the spot directly underneath the majestic four-legged tower to be the coolest place in the world, the center of the universe, a venue that attracts 7 million people from across the globe to gaze at its glory each year. But now, as I searched for my 15-year-old and her best friend, I hated this spot and all the stupid tourists.
Just two of the four tower elevators were in operation that late fall evening. When I’d gotten separated from the girls on the tower’s first level, I raced down 328 steps, thinking I would be there, smiling, front and center when the elevator doors opened. Pas de problème.
Unbeknownst to me, just after my manual descent to the ground, high winds forced the closure of one of the elevators, leaving just one lift for hundreds of people waiting to go down. The dead cell phone in my pocket meant I couldn’t text my daughter and find out where they were.
This story ends well, with frightened mom being reunited with oblivious girls about 20 minutes later. It truly seemed much, much longer. At least I was in the country of delicious, nerve-calming wine.
I haven’t shared this publicly before now – I guess I was a bit ashamed. This was my ninth trip to Paris, but the first taking my daughter, and being able to show her around the city I love was a dream come true. The nightmare of losing track of her briefly on our second day just didn’t fit.
But then I remembered that even dream trips have imperfect bits – that’s just part of the wonderful world of traveling. And, our 10-day séjour to Paris was about as perfect as it gets.
It was a trip we first discussed when Kate was 10, and I had just gotten back from a trip to France with my bff. “Mom, I want to go to Paris. When can I go?” became a frequent question. At that time, I had two requirements: Number one – she had to learn some French. She started officially working on that her first year of high school. Check. Number two – she had to be a more adventurous eater. No way were we going to stop at McDonald’s or look for mac ‘n cheese on the menu of les brasseries. In the end, she wouldn’t sample my escargots or mussels, but fell in love with the French bread and cheese. Check.
Once the plane tickets were purchased, a few more requirements were established. I would recommend these to anyone traveling with female teenagers: 1) make sure your accommodations have a toilet separate from the main bathroom, in case of … um … emergency. Two young women require quite a lot of bathroom time; 2) think about Instagram-able photo opps – and get used to waiting; and 3) urge comfort over fashion, especially when it comes to footwear. It IS possible to have both.
Almost as great as taking my daughter to Paris (almost) was planning our vacation together. We purchased advanced tickets for several attractions (skipping the line is totally worth the extra cost), including the Paris Catacombs on Halloween. For our one-day excursion outside the city, we discussed a few options: travel two hours south to Tours, the town where I lived while in college; take a guided tour of Normandy and all its World War II history; or take the Eurostar train underneath the English Channel and visit London for the day. What do you think two teenage girls chose? Yep. Plus, I think they enjoyed being where English was the mother tongue, if only for 11 hours.
Our stay ended with no more scary moments (unless you count our near separation by fast-closing subway doors, but we won’t) and a whole bunch of wonderful memories. We’re already talking about Italy 2020.
