Hmm - Mom's flight from Montreal to London took 6 1/2 hours, and mine from Hong Kong took 13. Not exactly half way, but a whole lot nicer than meeting in the middle of Russia! We coordinated our arrival times, and I kept my fingers crossed that we would meet at Heathrow on Tuesday, Oct. 29th about 7:30 a.m. Luckily our flights were both on time (mine arrived at 5 a.m.), so by the time Mom sailed through the arrivals gate, I had already shlepped down to the tube station and bought our Oyster cards.
First stop - a photo of Mom next to a ubiquitous London telephone booth. Second stop - Paul's Bakery opposite the South Kensington Station, where we had lunch outside in the sunshine.
By the time we reached Blackfriars, the closest stop to Shakespeare's Globe, the sun had faded and the wind had picked up. We huddled together as we walked past St. Paul's and over the Millennium Bridge.
At the beginning of the tour, our guide announced that there were 47 steps leading up to the theatre. He pointed to a lift that visitors could use instead. As I turned to ask Mom if she would rather take the lift, I noticed that she was already halfway up the staircase! Not too shabby for a great-grandmother, eh? Sitting in the seats, we could almost see and smell the thousands of people who used to flock to performances in Shakespeare's time. I've made a mental note to watch a live performance there the next time Jeff and I are in London in warm weather.
By the time we returned to the hotel, we were ready for a much-needed nap. However, we spent a few minutes unpacking and I discovered that my mother is a very resourceful traveller!
Later on, feeling refreshed and raring to go, we walked down Brompton Road to Harrod's to "shop". The two of us are terrible shoppers. Years of looking for sales and bargains has turned us off paying exorbitant prices. It was actually fun to see where the rich and famous part with their pounds, even if we came out of the store empty-handed. (No, Mom didn't buy the fur hat, even if it did look smashing on her!) Fish and chips at The Bunch of Grapes, a typical English pub, completed our first excellent day!
Part of the Palace is home to various Royals, including Kate, William, and little Georgie. Not open to visitors! We had to suffice with visits to the State Rooms formerly occupied by William and Mary, Queen Anne, and the first two Georges. We climbed up and down the staircases (go grannies go!) visiting the various rooms, but our favourite part was an exhibit of clothes worn by Queen Elizabeth II, Princess Margaret, and Princess Diana. The exhibit showcased the different styles of the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s.
Back to the tube and on to Piccadilly. The photo of me is taken near the M&Ms theme store! After a quick lunch at Pret, we had a howling good time watching The Book of Mormon. Irreverent, nasty, outrageous, but so funny! We laughed so hard that we missed half the jokes. As the locals would say, "Brilliant!".
We were in a superb mood as we strolled down elegant Regent Street to our dinner destination in Soho. Nopi is one of chef Yotam Ottolenghi's restaurants. Not only was the food amazing, but the decor of the restaurant (especially the mirrored bathrooms) is worth the visit alone. The bathroom is so confusing that the exit arrow is marked on the floor! We capped off a lovely day two with Hagen Daz ice cream.
After breakfast the next morning (Thursday), we set out for Victoria Station. A very pleasant cashier sold us return tickets to Box Hill and Westhumble (love those British town monikers!), where we were scheduled to meet my daughter, Julie's, friend, Mary, who has been living in the UK for many years. We had a relaxing commute - the train was empty, since we were going against the morning rush hour. I had a bit of a panic attack when we disembarked - no sight of Mary, and no taxis! We were in a pay-by-machine station in the middle of a little village. Luckily, Mary and her son, Joshua, showed up two minutes later, and off we went to visit Polesden Lacey, a National Trust property nearby.
Mrs. Greville was the illegitimate daughter of a brewery multimillionaire. Her father bought the estate for her. All she needed was a title. Baron Greville, an impoverished royal, to the rescue! Conveniently, the Baron died in 1908, two years after they moved to Polesden Lacey, and Mrs. Greville spent the rest of her life entertaining and travelling. Although she was beyond wealthy, I still admire her spunk and sense of adventure, travelling to India, the Middle East, and the Far East many times. Mrs. Greville's claim to fame was her collection of jewels, which are now in the possession of the Royal Family. She was also good friends with the Duke and Duchess of York (George VI and the Queen Mum), who spent their honeymoon at PL!
Lunch was fun - there's a comfortable cafe on the premises. We enjoyed Joshua - even after he had smeared hummus all over his face! After lunch, we wandered around the gardens before returning to the house to visit the remaining rooms.
Mom and I both had a craving for hamburgers that night. We ate at Byron (more upscale than McDonald's). At the end of the meal, we broke into giggles trying to figure out British coins! Why are two pence bigger than 5 pence?
Friday was our last day in London. Our destination was the Victoria and Albert Museum, across the road from our hotel. Because the Museum was not yet open, we took a quick look inside the gloomy Brompton Oratory next door, the first Roman Catholic Church to be built in London after the Reformation (1884). When we arrived at the V&A, I noticed that there was a free guided tour scheduled in 10 minutes. Our guide pointed out some highlights of the museum, but after about half an hour we had had enough of her detailed explanations of Flemish tapestries, and just wandered off on our own. We both really admired the Chihuly piece suspended in the main entrance, and I also enjoyed watching students sketch various masterpieces. A short walk again down Brompton Road to Paul's Bakery for lunch. Their tuna baguettes are delicious! After lunch, we stopped at Marks and Spencer to load up on food for dinner. Then it was off to St. Pancras Station and the Eurostar through the Chunnel to Paris. What a delightful and easy way to travel. In 2 1/2 hours we were at the Gare du Nord. Paris in the pouring rain. We arrived at the Hotel du Danube on rue Jacob (6eme arrondissement) and had a relaxing evening.
Saturday was mothers and daughters/aunts and cousins day. Coincidentally, Aunt Bernice and Cousin Janis were in Paris that day. We met at the Musee Jacquemart Andre, an opulent mansion built at the end of the 19th century. The museum is on the magnificent Boulevard Haussman. It is easy to miss when you are walking down the street - the mansion is accessible through a gate which leads to the main entrance behind the Boulevard. The home was built for entertaining, and it contains rooms and furnishings that were decorated in period style. The most impressive part of the house is the magnificent dual staircase leading to the second floor. (Yes, that's Helen zipping up the steps). After touring the museum, we had lunch on the terrace of the Cafe.
After lunch, we walked to the Musee Nissim de Camondo (thank you to my sister, Sandra, and Janice C. for the recommendation). Unlike the J-A, this elegant house felt like a real home rather than a showpiece. Comte Moise de Camondo, a wealthy Jewish banker who was originally from Constantinople, rebuilt his family home in the Parc Monceau in 1912 to house his collection of 18th century French furniture and artwork (Camondo is mentioned in one of my favourite books, The Hare with Amber Eyes). The Camondo family had a tragic history. Mme Camondo ran off with her horse trainer when the two children were very young. Moise doted on his children, and was devastated when his son and heir, Nissim, was killed in aerial combat in 1917. Moise died in 1935. His daughter, Beatrice, a Catholic convert who had divorced her Jewish husband, felt safe in Paris after the Nazi occupation. However, in 1943 Beatrice and her two children were arrested, taken to Drancy, and sent to Auschwitz where they all perished. The house is preserved in its original condition. Mom and Aunt Bernice loved the kitchen. It is housed in the basement and resembles Downton Abbey.
A parting shot of the four of us in front of a typical cafe! After we bade farewell, I got us slightly lost looking for the nearest Metro. We didn't mind wandering, since the area was so picture-perfect. After a brief rest (ha! neither of us knows the meaning of that word), we had dinner at Au Pied de Fouet, a typical bistro (highly rated on Tripadvisor) around the corner from our hotel. We were squished in with the other diners, but enjoyed our canard (Mom) and steak-frites (me). The end of an exceptional day!
On Sunday morning, the sun was shining brightly - perfect weather for a walking tour of the Marais. Rather cold for this Hong Konger, though - I donned my down vest under my suede jacket, threw a scarf around my neck, and wore gloves, too. Although I felt rather paunchy, I managed to keep warm throughout the 3-hour walk. Before joining the tour, we had breakfast at the famous Cafe de Flore near our hotel. The Cafe is frequented by distinguished looking older gentlemen with wavy grey hair. Mom says they all look like poets.
Mom and I cannot rave enough about our day with Karen. She was so knowledgeable about French Jewish history, the architecture of the Marais, and the current state of the Jewish community in France. As we walked, she pointed out important landmarks. What intrigued me were unmarked, nondescript doors, such as the one in the photo on the left. Behind the door lies one of the remaining yeshivot in Paris. Most of the Jewish buildings, such as the Pavee Synagogue on the right, have heavy gates and lots of cctv cameras.
As we sat in the Fleischman synagogue, listening to Karen talk about the waning Jewish community, we gazed around at a typical Sephardic place of worship. The Torah coverings were rather unusual - so colourful!
Most of the Jewish community has moved away from the Marais, however, many Jews still own businesses in the neighbourhood. Tiny Beith Yossef is used daily by businessmen who find it more convenient for morning prayers than their places of worship in the suburbs.
There are so many people shopping and eating in the Marais on Sundays. The lineup at L'As du Fallafel was around the block. Karen has an arrangement with the owner (she brings him so many customers), so our table was ready when we arrived. By far the best fallafel that I have ever eaten - the secret is the addition of yummy grilled eggplant to the standard wrap. 
Fortified (and warmed up), we completed the tour at the Shoah Memorial on the Allee des Justes. A sobering end to a most interesting walk.
Our Sunday walk was far from over! We crossed the bridge to Ile de la Cite and sat in the sunshine in the park behind Notre Dame for a few minutes before descending to the Deportation Memorial nearby. The guard at the entrance warned us that there were 27 steep stairs - no problem for grandma and great-grandma! The Memorial is quietly moving - the 200,000 illuminated crystals symbolize the French Jews who were deported from Paris, and who died in the Nazi concentration camps.
Feeling full of energy (oy, we had only walked about five miles so far), Mom and I strolled back to the hotel. We paused on a bridge to watch tango dancers, and then enjoyed the human statues in the Place Saint-Michel (how does he hold that position for 15 minutes?).That evening, we walked back to the Saint-Michel neighbourhood for pizza at a charming Italian restaurant. The waiter became our new best friend. He also became our protector. Mom was facing the window when she started laughing and pointing to a ridiculous-looking fellow walking by. He was a very tall African with long rasta hair clad only in trousers (it was about 5 Celsius that night). His body was covered in tattoos and he wore many chains around his neck. Somehow, he made eye contact with Mom, and decided to join us in the restaurant. As he walked through the door, our waiter quickly shooed him out as he was gesturing to us sitting meekly in the corner. We couldn't stop laughing (but I breathed a sigh of relief as he disappeared from view).
Dinner was the best part of the day. We relaxed at a bistro, and soaked up the atmosphere. I even spied the Wicked Witch of the West at the back of the room (she was American!).
We awoke to pouring rain and cold temperatures on Wednesday. Good thing that I had planned an indoor activity - a visit to the Musee d'Orsay. The only problem was that it was a fifteen minute wet walk from our hotel. We stopped along the way to have our morning croissant and coffee (and fresh-squeezed orange juice) before reaching the museum. The lineup looked daunting, but it was only about 40 minutes before we were inside. This is the most marvellous museum in the world. I've now been there three times, and will surely return the next time I visit Paris. Mom and I spent three hours in the museum, including a lunch break at one of the cafes. The museum has recently undergone a renovation - the walls are no longer stark white. They are richly coloured and enhance the paintings. About 3 o'clock Mom turned to me and finally said "I'm tired"! After eight days, I had finally succeeded in wearing her out! I only wish I had brought a pedometer to clock how many miles we had walked during our holiday. We had one last canard/steak-frites dinner and toasted the wonderful time we had together in London and Paris.The next morning, as we were waiting for our train to the airport, a beautiful young lady told Mom she was the most elegant, beautiful woman she had ever seen. A perfect ending to a perfect holiday!
