I could try to count how many steps I carried BabyHope up in a stroller (thousands?).  I could write about the day Mr. Hope’s mom’s wallet (passport included) was stolen and the subsequent trip to the embassy.  I could write about the rain at Versailles.  Or the grime and gravel trapped inside Mr. Hope’s tattered cast.  I could tell you how France switched to standard time the last night we were there, and we didn’t know it.  Or about the new young neighbors who had an all night party two nights before we left.  Or about the wheelchair customs near-debacle.

I could try to tell you how big and massive and impressive and extraordinary all the sights are.  I could wonder about how anyone, especially so long ago, could have built so much stuff.  And then covered it in gold.  Or what it’s like to be standing in front of paintings that you’ve seen your entire life in pictures.

We’ll always be able to tell BabyHope about how we dragged her across Europe, iPhone in tow.  And about how she loved pigeons and squrrels and anything chocolate.  And how much she loved climbing the stairs to the apartment in Paris and pushing the elevator button for the flat in London.  She discovered cereal with milk on this trip.  And Nutella.  And wind-up toys, and Elmo Live!  And geese in St. James’ Park.

I loved our trip.  I could live in either city.  I love the sensation of the city, I love the people-watching, and I love seeing how we’re the same and yet different.  I love the subway.

I have pictures, but they don’t even begin to tell the tale of our family’s trip.  They’re on Mr. Hope’s computer, and I’ll post some eventually.

As wonderful as it was, it’s good to be home.

~ by Larisa on October 27, 2009.

3 Responses to “home”

  1. Welcome home. It sounds like an amazing trip.

  2. Wow – that sounds fantastic! Isn’t it lovely to go away and find a place you’d like to live. It must have been great to see everything for real.


  3. Yumm, Nutella! It’s a favorite in our household.

    Good to hear you had a good time, despite some misfortunes.

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