Sunday, November 21, 2010

Family Togetherness French Style


Many of the places I recommend visiting in my books hold special meaning for our family and when I saw the New York Times article about child-free flights http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/11/14/travel/14babies-journeys.html it reminded me of one trip in particular.
In 1984 Mary Lou and I had the opportunity to rent an apartment on the French Riviera  (Cote d’Azur) for the summer.  We packed up the children and headed to Villeneuve-Loubet, a small seaside town just outside of Nice. http://villeneuve-tourisme.com/Villeneuve-Loubet_Tourist_Office.56.0.html Our eldest daughter Carol (Boo) had been studying in Paris and would meet us down south when her studies ended. Our eldest son Rob stayed home to hold down the fort at AutoVenture. http://www.autoventure.com/index.html
A few years prior we took all five children to northern Norway (where my folks are from) so traveling to France with only four children in tow sounded like a piece of cake.  As the kids got older it was more and more rare that we are all gathered in one place for more than few minutes per day.  All the activity and action left less and less family time all together as the kids got older.  France was a welcome change. At first, ahem.
The apartment sat high on a hill overlooking the spectacular, blue Mediterranean Sea.  Villeneuve was a charming old village complete with a square surrounded by old men in berets smoking Gitanes and playing boules. In the other direction was the beach, which drew hundreds of French vacationers enjoying their extended summer holidays.  We all fell right into the rhythm of the Riviera.  Mornings were spent sipping coffee, eating fresh croissants and mapping out our day. 
After breakfast the kids would head to the beach (doing their best to act nonchalant about the surrounding topless sunbathers). In the afternoons when the sun reached it’s hottest, we’d meet back at the apartment for lunch and the wonderful Mediterranean tradition of an afternoon siesta.  
As any parent will tell you (especially one with five children) it is vital that there is a quiet, sacred place in which to retreat.  My retreat was the back balcony, which overlooked a little-used parking lot for the complex and (more interestingly) a beautiful Provencal hillside covered in olive trees.  The afternoon sun would beam down on this narrow little deck and I would enjoy a few moments of peace and quiet. 
Every once in awhile I was joined for a few moments by one of the kids and on this particular day Mary Lou and I were both outside enjoying the small, quiet balcony when Amy appeared. Then Boo. Then Mike. Then Ann, who proceeded to shut the sliding glass door behind her followed by a deafening CLICK.  With barely room for everyone to stand we jostled and bumped into one another while trying to open the bolted door all to no avail.
With no possible escape route we decided to sit and wait until a neighbor passed by the deserted back parking lot.  The siesta hour (which I had heretofore, praised) now seemed like a prison sentence. One could hear the wind rustling on the hillside and a lone dog barking in the distance.   I was pretty sure I could hear the neighbors’ snoring. My little balcony where I basked in the golden afternoon light had become an oven.  As I sat in the corner (we took turns sitting as there wasn’t room for all of us to sit at once) I pulled out my trusty handkerchief and covered my burning pate.  I dreamed of the days when Mary Lou and I traveled alone through Europe (at least once a year).  I pretended we were sitting in Paris at the bar of le Bristol and the thought of a Kir Royale made me clutch my parched throat.  It was then that the giggling started.  When the door first closed there was the usual finger-pointing/shoving/pushing/pinching bout amongst the children, which petered out as the heat got to them.  The sight of their father sitting in the corner, head beet red with a hanky as his only protection from the burning sun sent them into fits of hysteria.
We perked at the sound of a car in the distance growing closer.  Soon our chic, blond neighbor appeared. “Bonjour!” we all cried desperately. I imagine we looked like the Von Trapps up on there on the balcony waving and grinning foolishly.  Boo, our resident interpreter explained what had happened.  The woman lived next door and in no time she had her husband climb over the front balcony into the apartment to  liberate us. Saved!  I felt vindicated when less than a week later when they rang the doorbell that they were locked out and we sent Mike over the balcony to reciprocate.
I like to think that it was travel that helped shape my the worldviews of my children.  They have all been world travelers.  Rob and Mike work in the travel business and have traveled far and wide with their respective broods.  Boo and her family lived in Bhutan for three months where her husband did volunteer medical work. Amy and her family have taught in the international schools of the Philippines and Tokyo, Japan.  Ann has worked with refugees in London, Tanzania, Jordan and Nepal.  And all four of those kids that were trapped on the balcony have lived and studied in France, bien sûr.
Traveling with kids is never going to be as relaxing as traveling alone. But it is certainly more interesting.   I hope parents brave the daunting task of international travel with kids and I salute those that do.


Monday, November 15, 2010

Plus ça change plus c'est la même...

For more than forty years my business has specialized in individual, customized European driving vacations and I have seen my share of change in the travel world.  When I first started out we made reservations by 'telex' and wore our very best suits on trans-Atlantic flights.  I have seen the business transform and change in ways I could hardly imagine (such as Internet blogging!).  But as the title of this entry suggests the more things change- the more they remain the same.  Whether it is the timeless perfection of the French dining experience, the view of the Mediterranean from the winding roads of the Cinque Terre or the castles of the Rhine- the wonder of Europe never ceases to amaze.  It is that ability to amaze the traveler year after year, decade after decade, century after century- that will never change.

I have always preferred the 'open road' and the freedom that driving in Europe affords. I have spent the better part of four decades exploring Europe by car and creating unique, individualized itineraries for travelers who wish to explore the beauty and uniqueness of Europe on their own terms.

These days I am focusing on my driving guides to Europe www.europedriveguide.com and sharing my knowledge with travelers who are looking for their own authentic European experience. Welcome to the Open Road!

Orv