Here’s a truth about being a Traveling Mom: A lot of us don’t get to travel very much. There’s school, and work, and household responsibilities. In my case there’s Swine Flu and then Pneumonia, that, at the moment, is keeping me from going much farther than around the corner to buy more tissues.
Good thing there’s fantasizing. Hey, there’s fantasy football, fantasy baseball — why not fantasy travel. Here’s mine.
I fantasize about going back to Paris, where I lived for two years after college, working as a Bar Mitzvah Band singer. (No, really.) Of course in this fantasy I don’t have ridiculous ’80’s hair and big shoulder pads. I’m staying in a lovely, small hotel on the Left Bank, Relais Christine, around the corner from my old apartment. I’m going to the local Marche to buy cheese and baguettes, which I’ll then eat – not walking around (very un-French) but sitting in the Champs De Mars admiring the Eiffel Tower. I’m having dinner at the best Paris restaurants. And I won’t even get fat, because a) French Women Don’t Get Fat and b) This is my fantasy, people. And in my fantasy, cheese, bread and butter don’t make you fat!
In my fantasy I’m visiting the Louvre, and my old favorites, The Picasso Museum and The Rodin Museum (especially the sculpture garden. I’m buying Pain Poilane (you have to get it from the origianl Rue du Cherche Midi store) slathering it with butter, and eating it all.
Of course I’m shopping. Lots of shopping. Fabulous shoes. A beautiful coat. And again, since it’s a fantasy, it’s all at bargain prices.
In this fantasy, my kids only appear when I want them to – and they are charming and happy and will eat what’s put in front of them at restaurants with the best possible manners. Most of the time, though, my husband and I are having a second honeymoon. We’re strolling down the Rue de Grenelle, where the owner of the newspaper shop remembers me, and tells me I haven’t changed a bit.
And you know what? I haven’t. I still love Paris. Always will.
What’s your travel fantasy? Leave it below. You’d be amazed at how much like really being there writing it down feels.
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