London. Paris. Amsterdam. A two-week adventure. Shows on the West end. Wandering the winding roads of bohemian Montmartre. Boating on the canals. And stroopwafels! Still journeying. Still exploring. So here are some random thoughts on my family’s summer adventure abroad.
• In Amsterdam, death by bicycle is a real thing. You may have heard that the Dutch love their bikes. What you may not know is that there are more than 800,000 bikes in the city and a population of only about 700,000. What this means is that 100,000 of those bikes are out there riding themselves. No human operators! Which is why you have to be so careful. Everywhere you go there are bikes. Zipping along the bike lanes like cruise missiles. We hide in the bushes watching for them. When we see the coast is clear, we dart across the road and dive into another bush. You never know when an un-piloted bike might be coming for you.
• France reminds me of my Cuban roots: Why say five words when you can say 50, and flap your arms around for added influence? An example: I was sitting at our hotel eating breakfast and people-watching. An older French gentleman walked up to the fresh orange juice dispenser and looked befuddled. He began a very animated discussion with the server. It was most dramatic. Complete with wild, exaggerated hand-flapping. Like a traffic cop, or swatting at a fly. He seemed upset. The server responded in kind. It went on like this. Back and forth. Like they were debating politics, or religion. Finally, the server stuck out a finger and showed the man he had to push down on the level, not press it. Voila! The old man smiled and got his juice. I was mesmerized. I thought only my Cuban family could expend so much energy and oxygen on such simple tasks. Right then I realized why I connected so well with the French.
• Another thing about France I’ve learned: You can spend as much time as you want studying the French language so you can order baguettes or crepes. But, if you know even a little broken Spanish, the minute you open your mouth, that is what will inevitably come out. It’s because your brain is the size of a macaroon. Unfortunately, I don’t know Spanish that well, either, so I’m often responded to with: “Monsieur, your Spanish is as bad as your French. And your English sounds like a parochial school dropout. Please take your baguette and go.”
• There is nothing — NOTHING! — worse than having a 16-year-old daughter who is dressed like a Parisian and reading a book on the Metro like all the other city dwellers and she looks the part so wel that some guy starts FLIRTING with her IN FRENCH!!! Right in front of ME! It was unbelievable. And I couldn’t even get the words out in Spanish to say, “Bugger off!”
• English in London can be just as hard to understand as French in Paris. That’s all I have to say on that.
• Like Paris, Amsterdam is a pretty amazing city. It’s filled with unique architecture, a rich history and some of the friendliest people you will find. But put aside the pancakes, the rich chocolates and a brew pub inside a windmill, and my favorite part is when I realized the word “store” in Dutch is: Winkel. Winkel! That is easily the greatest, and most fun word to say, in the history of language.
• French kings like Louis XIV built incredible palaces. Versailles is breathtaking. Sprawling in size. Brash in its architecture, Dripping in gold like a giant poured it over a sundae. But why, with all that wealth, didn’t anyone think to brush their teeth? The Sun King was said to eat five meals a day, and lots of sweets. He developed such terrible cavities that his teeth rotted and needed to be pulled out. Lesson in life: If you can buy that much gold, you can certainly go down to the corner pharmacy and get a toothbrush!
• We move too fast, multi-task too much and work too hard in America. There is a sort of European chill to Paris and Amsterdam. Paris especially. The city taught me the importance of slowing down. Paris is all about pacing yourself and appreciating things. People sit in cafés for hours on end. Just people-watching and mindfully eating their dinners. They enjoy the weather and take their time. Life is not to be raced through, or shuffling from place to place. It’s to be lived. Enjoyed. It seems like a novel idea, and an important lesson. Especially for someone like me who is constantly on the move, jumping from thing to thing. Paris is all about finding a moment and savoring it. There’s something special about that. Maybe that’s my greatest souvenir. And if I’m not killed by one of the 100,000 human-less bikes in Amsterdam, I might even get to come home and try it.