We leave today and, as most travelers, I’m part sad and part excited–sad to leave this juicy experience, and excited to see my family and return to a familiar SOFT bed (note: European hotel mattresses, with the exception of the Marriott, are a wee bit THIN).
One funny to share before we departe (imagine the little mark over the e…)
If you recall before we left for this trip, I lost my cell phone in the airport restroom. Apparently, so that my subconscious could make this experience a 360-degree one, I lost my credit card yesterday.
In Paris.
That’s right, the stalwart, you-can-rely-upon-me my fair children kind of mother LOST HER CREDIT CARD IN A MAJOR EUROPEAN CITY.
Trying not to alarm my daughter (again), we searched the taxi, the sidewalk, my pockets and just about every store owner up and down the rue (street). Then we returned to the last stores we had been to (seeing as yesterday was our scheduled SHOPPING day), but no luck.
I prayed, I smiled (at Chelsea), I sweat. Everyone I talked to said, “Cancel your card.” I tried, but in the chaos of checking the taxi, a fussy baby, and getting our luggage, I ended the call. But not before the lady on the phone told me they couldn’t get a replacement card or do anything for me until Monday. Even though we left Sunday.
NOT CANCELING my card turned out to be a huge blessing. Because right after that a friendly receptionist said DO NOT cancel as you can still pay your hotel bill, and anything else you need, as the numbers are still good.
That wasn’t the only blessing from that advice.
I decided to try to find the card one last time. We returned to the room, once again to search, and ultimately dumping out the contents of a few bags.
From one small plastic bag containing a French audio version of The Little Prince with an English companion book for my daughter, out dropped that beautiful rectangular piece of silver.
My card.
As the French say, “Voila” (or, translated, “You idiot, it’s right here.”)
Suddenly, life was good again and we could go about our merry way.
The irony was not lost on me–since day one of our trip I’ve been toting a neck pouch the size of a mutant canteloupe, making me look strangely pregnant or, when on my back, like a bad impression of Quasimodo.
But, in the past few days, I’d gotten careless and simply stashed my card in my back pocket. SO RIDICULOUSLY AMERICAN TOURIST DUMB, but I did it.
So I’ve learned something very vital from this experience: when you take the time and trouble to tote and parade your safety neck pouch, USE IT.
Meanwhile, we are off to the airport. Though I’ll share a few last thoughts later, thank you for being in a friendly cyber way, on our wonderful adventure.
Au revoir and Happy Mother’s Day,
Connie
To view more of Connie’s Paris adventures with pictures, click “Like” on her Facebook Page.
