kenny's parisian adventure - day 1: on y va!
Monday, May 5, 2008 – Paris
Properly geared up for a week in Paris, we made sure to get to O’Hare extra early in preparation for our big flight. In the terminal, I struck up a conversation with a woman who was traveling with her husband and young son, Ben, who was only a year older than Kenny. As it turned out, they were from Minneapolis, but were living in France during her husband’s two-year work assignment for a company that manufactures credit cards (or something along those lines).
Ben was very friendly and he and Kenny had a nice animated chat while standing in front of the window, staring out at the planes on the tarmac. While the boys kibitzed, Ben’s parents gave us all kinds of nice travel tips, like how to properly pre-board and to be aware of the pasteurization differences between American and French milk (and the potential toddler gastronomic repercussions).
Kenny and Ben talk trucks, planes and international travel.
Once onboard (ahead of the pack), we strapped Kenny’s car seat into his airline seat, and then strapped him in as well. Seeing how close Mr. K now was to the seat in front of him, I began to quietly stress out about the next eight hours, and who would be the happy recipient of Kenny’s kicks to the back of their seat. In a miraculous stroke of luck, no one ended up sitting in the seat in question, even though the plane was quite full. Seeing as this undoubtedly averted an international incident at 36,000 feet, we were, how you say, relieved.
Kenny’s close proximity to the seat in front of him also meant that he was able to easily touch the in-seat monitor screen with his toes. Since the monitors are touch-activated, this lead to a joyous round (or six hundred) of turning the monitor on and off with little piggies one and two (“market” and “stayed home”).
Overboard is so proud of her son's toe-tastic abilities.
The in-seat monitor also had a special channel devoted to cartoons and this provided Mr. K with HOURS worth of enjoyable TV viewing. Now, generally, Kenny is allowed to watch a TV once or twice a day for around 20 minutes at a time. I would say the three to four hours he put in during the flight made up for all of his lost time in front of the tube at home.
The humorous part of his TV watching was his frustration with credits. When the cartoons came to an end and the credits appeared (or when someone made an announcement over the plane’s PA system, thus putting the TV on “hold”) Kenny would fuss at high decibels. We fixed this problem by teaching him to count down to the start of the next show. So, over the next few hours, at 10 minute intervals, a little boy’s voice could be heard throughout the cabin shouting, “One! Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…ACTION!”
Kenny did manage to fall asleep for a few hours during the flight. Graciously, he announced his intention to pass out by screaming at the top of his lungs for a minute or two, before closing his eyes and slumping over to his left. Just like I taught him to do.
By the end of the flight, we were all ready to go. Not just Kenny, but Overboard, myself, and all of the other passengers onboard who I had apologized to and given each a duty-free gift card (that may or may not have been valid in an EU country).
While taking the crowded bus from the tarmac to the terminal, Kenny and Ben were reunited and amused the huddled masses with rousing renditions of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
After we managed to get our luggage, etc., we made our way out to meet the car Michelle has sent to pick us up and deliver us to the hotel. The very nice driver, Joseph, spoke excellent English, so I chatted with him in a mixture of French and English as we drove into the city and Overboard and Kenny crashed out in the backseat.
Driving through Parisian traffic I began to realize a few things: 1) It had been 14 years since my last visit and I truly missed this city; 2) Man, I’m glad I don’t have to drive here. It’s like Boston with smaller cars and less rules (if that’s possible); 3) I’m really, really tired.
We arrived at the hotel and were greeted by Michelle who, for the first time since I have known her (which is something like 22 years now), had let her hair grow out and go grey. She looked great (as always), and from the moment I reluctantly detached myself from her tight embrace, the spoiling began.
Michelle put us up in a fantastic room on the third floor of the hotel, complete with a pack n’ play and high chair for Kenny. We took the opportunity to clean ourselves up and then head around the corner for some lunch, since it was already after noon.
Michelle had also obtained a stroller from Laurent, but it was a jogging stroller, and a bit cumbersome. Super for a sprint through the Tuileries, but a bit difficult for navigating the Metro. Not a problem, however, as Michelle and I replaced it later with a more agile stroller, which would later become a hotel perk for future visiting families.
But in the meantime, we strapped Kenny into the jogger and rolled around the block to a small Italian restaurant called “Dino” with a groovy purple interior and a decided lack of amenities for children. This was our first indication that Paris, for all its wonders, may not be the most toddler-friendly destination. But we thought of ourselves as intrepid world travelers, and forged on undaunted, and slightly deluded in our beliefs that we could keep a sleep-deprived, slightly jet lagged toddler entertained and still in a small Italian restaurant in the heart of Paris.
Between Kenny’s desire not to sit still for longer than two minutes without screaming bloody murder (which, remarkably, seems to be easily translatable into French), and my needing to send my first pasta dish back due to unforeseen crème sauce that would make a lactose-intolerant person such as myself shudder, lunch was not so much a success. Overboard and I took turns shuttling Kenny outside to see Paris (“Look! A dog! Bonjour, monsieur chien!”) and scarfing down lunch.
Afterwards, it was universally decided that napping was in order, so we slept for a solid three hours before I forced everyone to get up, in an attempt to adjust to local time sooner than later. I may have been correct in my theories of defeating jet lag, but I wasn’t necessarily popular.
Kenny wedged himself into a comfy spot and snoozed like a champ.
While Overboard and Kenny roused themselves, I went with Michelle to the Passy Metro station to get Carte Oranges for the week. These are passes that let you ride the train or bus, but require pix for security purposes (mostly for the bus). Getting the pass was no problem, but finding a photo booth would soon prove to be problematic.
After getting back to the hotel, we made an enjoyable trip to the local supermarket and then over to Michelle’s apartment for an outstanding dinner of tomatoes, veal, asparagus, potatoes and champagne. This was enhanced by the breathtaking view of Paris from Michelle’s balcony and the new game Kenny and I invented before we ate.
Les Invalides, as seen from Michelle's balcony.
Michelle got the memo about Evenkeel's favorite French beverage.
The game involved me grabbing him around the middle, counting down from three (in French or English), and then flipping him over onto a big leather chair. This game’s popularity rivals Thomas the Train’s in Kenny’s world. That is to say, it was a hit.
Kenny and I spent some time after dinner watching the French version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” before retiring back to the hotel and finally passing out around 11pm.
One day in Paris and Kenny was already eating and sleeping on a European schedule! Formidable!
Properly geared up for a week in Paris, we made sure to get to O’Hare extra early in preparation for our big flight. In the terminal, I struck up a conversation with a woman who was traveling with her husband and young son, Ben, who was only a year older than Kenny. As it turned out, they were from Minneapolis, but were living in France during her husband’s two-year work assignment for a company that manufactures credit cards (or something along those lines).
Ben was very friendly and he and Kenny had a nice animated chat while standing in front of the window, staring out at the planes on the tarmac. While the boys kibitzed, Ben’s parents gave us all kinds of nice travel tips, like how to properly pre-board and to be aware of the pasteurization differences between American and French milk (and the potential toddler gastronomic repercussions).
Kenny and Ben talk trucks, planes and international travel.
Once onboard (ahead of the pack), we strapped Kenny’s car seat into his airline seat, and then strapped him in as well. Seeing how close Mr. K now was to the seat in front of him, I began to quietly stress out about the next eight hours, and who would be the happy recipient of Kenny’s kicks to the back of their seat. In a miraculous stroke of luck, no one ended up sitting in the seat in question, even though the plane was quite full. Seeing as this undoubtedly averted an international incident at 36,000 feet, we were, how you say, relieved.
Kenny’s close proximity to the seat in front of him also meant that he was able to easily touch the in-seat monitor screen with his toes. Since the monitors are touch-activated, this lead to a joyous round (or six hundred) of turning the monitor on and off with little piggies one and two (“market” and “stayed home”).
Overboard is so proud of her son's toe-tastic abilities.
The in-seat monitor also had a special channel devoted to cartoons and this provided Mr. K with HOURS worth of enjoyable TV viewing. Now, generally, Kenny is allowed to watch a TV once or twice a day for around 20 minutes at a time. I would say the three to four hours he put in during the flight made up for all of his lost time in front of the tube at home.
The humorous part of his TV watching was his frustration with credits. When the cartoons came to an end and the credits appeared (or when someone made an announcement over the plane’s PA system, thus putting the TV on “hold”) Kenny would fuss at high decibels. We fixed this problem by teaching him to count down to the start of the next show. So, over the next few hours, at 10 minute intervals, a little boy’s voice could be heard throughout the cabin shouting, “One! Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…ACTION!”
Kenny did manage to fall asleep for a few hours during the flight. Graciously, he announced his intention to pass out by screaming at the top of his lungs for a minute or two, before closing his eyes and slumping over to his left. Just like I taught him to do.
By the end of the flight, we were all ready to go. Not just Kenny, but Overboard, myself, and all of the other passengers onboard who I had apologized to and given each a duty-free gift card (that may or may not have been valid in an EU country).
While taking the crowded bus from the tarmac to the terminal, Kenny and Ben were reunited and amused the huddled masses with rousing renditions of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
After we managed to get our luggage, etc., we made our way out to meet the car Michelle has sent to pick us up and deliver us to the hotel. The very nice driver, Joseph, spoke excellent English, so I chatted with him in a mixture of French and English as we drove into the city and Overboard and Kenny crashed out in the backseat.
Driving through Parisian traffic I began to realize a few things: 1) It had been 14 years since my last visit and I truly missed this city; 2) Man, I’m glad I don’t have to drive here. It’s like Boston with smaller cars and less rules (if that’s possible); 3) I’m really, really tired.
We arrived at the hotel and were greeted by Michelle who, for the first time since I have known her (which is something like 22 years now), had let her hair grow out and go grey. She looked great (as always), and from the moment I reluctantly detached myself from her tight embrace, the spoiling began.
Michelle put us up in a fantastic room on the third floor of the hotel, complete with a pack n’ play and high chair for Kenny. We took the opportunity to clean ourselves up and then head around the corner for some lunch, since it was already after noon.
Michelle had also obtained a stroller from Laurent, but it was a jogging stroller, and a bit cumbersome. Super for a sprint through the Tuileries, but a bit difficult for navigating the Metro. Not a problem, however, as Michelle and I replaced it later with a more agile stroller, which would later become a hotel perk for future visiting families.
But in the meantime, we strapped Kenny into the jogger and rolled around the block to a small Italian restaurant called “Dino” with a groovy purple interior and a decided lack of amenities for children. This was our first indication that Paris, for all its wonders, may not be the most toddler-friendly destination. But we thought of ourselves as intrepid world travelers, and forged on undaunted, and slightly deluded in our beliefs that we could keep a sleep-deprived, slightly jet lagged toddler entertained and still in a small Italian restaurant in the heart of Paris.
Between Kenny’s desire not to sit still for longer than two minutes without screaming bloody murder (which, remarkably, seems to be easily translatable into French), and my needing to send my first pasta dish back due to unforeseen crème sauce that would make a lactose-intolerant person such as myself shudder, lunch was not so much a success. Overboard and I took turns shuttling Kenny outside to see Paris (“Look! A dog! Bonjour, monsieur chien!”) and scarfing down lunch.
Afterwards, it was universally decided that napping was in order, so we slept for a solid three hours before I forced everyone to get up, in an attempt to adjust to local time sooner than later. I may have been correct in my theories of defeating jet lag, but I wasn’t necessarily popular.
Kenny wedged himself into a comfy spot and snoozed like a champ.
While Overboard and Kenny roused themselves, I went with Michelle to the Passy Metro station to get Carte Oranges for the week. These are passes that let you ride the train or bus, but require pix for security purposes (mostly for the bus). Getting the pass was no problem, but finding a photo booth would soon prove to be problematic.
After getting back to the hotel, we made an enjoyable trip to the local supermarket and then over to Michelle’s apartment for an outstanding dinner of tomatoes, veal, asparagus, potatoes and champagne. This was enhanced by the breathtaking view of Paris from Michelle’s balcony and the new game Kenny and I invented before we ate.
Les Invalides, as seen from Michelle's balcony.
Michelle got the memo about Evenkeel's favorite French beverage.
The game involved me grabbing him around the middle, counting down from three (in French or English), and then flipping him over onto a big leather chair. This game’s popularity rivals Thomas the Train’s in Kenny’s world. That is to say, it was a hit.
Kenny and I spent some time after dinner watching the French version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” before retiring back to the hotel and finally passing out around 11pm.
One day in Paris and Kenny was already eating and sleeping on a European schedule! Formidable!
posted by Dr. Overboard and Prof. Evenkeel at 8:30 AM
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