When we originally booked our Baltic adventure in 2020, we planned to take a train from Tallinn to St. Petersburg.  By 2022, visiting Russia was no longer an option.  Instead, Matt suggested that we check out Riga, the capital of Latvia and the largest city in the Baltics.

Not knowing anything about Riga, I started investigating. One travel blogger compared Riga to Paris.  Both old cities filled with gardens, cobblestone and World War Two history.  Paris boasts over thirty million visitors a year while just over a million visit Riga each year.

I read about Riga’s city market, The Old City and the Art Nouveau District – both designated as a UNESCO World Heritage sites.  Intrigued, I looked into the logistics of traveling there from Estonia. Easy. It was only a couple hours by bus.  I chose an Airbnb in downtown Riga and was delighted to see it only cost about a hundred dollars a night.  The dollar stretched much further in Latvia than Scandinavia – making Riga my kind of place.

We arrived to Riga on a Sunday.   We rode a street car tram from the bus station to the Opera House, which was close to our apartment.  From there we walked through a beautiful lush garden filled with flowers, ponds, and fountains which reminded me of Paris’s Luxembourg Gardens. Our clean and cozy apartment was nearby.  We dropped our bags in the apartment and headed out for an afternoon of exploration with a tour guide.

Our tour guide, Liga, met us outside our apartment. We walked straight to Riga’s central market about fifteen minutes away.   The market was constructed from 1924 to 1930 using five buildings designed like Zeppelin hangars. The market was built in Neoclassicism and Art Deco style.  Inside and outside there is a total of 780,000 square feet with more than 3,000 stalls.  The Latvians are very proud of their market.  Like Estonia, local people shop at the market year-round. Fresh food is central to their culture – especially in the summer with the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables. There are also lots of cut flowers of many varieties. 

Liga showed us her favorite vendors: a fish merchant, the bread maker, and a sweet baker.  We tasted a local pastry and enjoyed an espresso.   We walked by the non-perishable good stalls but didn’t stop.  Liga told us a story of how some Russian businessmen bribed the authorities to sell Chines knock-off t-shirts, jewelry and handbags. She rolled her eyes at the corrupt bureaucrats who granted stalls to Russian black marketeers.   Nevertheless, we left the market satiated and planned to come back the next day to try more local food.

1.8 million people live in Latvia – a small yet mighty country.  Latvia joined the the EU and NATO in 2004. This is a controversial topic.  Some Latvians appreciate the global connection and security more than others.  With Ukraine at war in Russia, our guide said she felt more protected as a result of being a part of NATO and the EU.  But many Latvians do not identify with Europe – rather with Russia.   We had heard the same thing in Estonia. 

Like Estonia, Latvia gained independence from Russia in 1918, and was a free and independent country under a new constitution until 1941.  Then, at the beginning of World War II, the Soviets took over and ruled in a brutal manner.  The first year of Soviet occupation was so brutal it’s been called  the “Year of Terror.“  Thirty-five thousand Latvians were arrested, murdered, or sent to Siberia – most never to return. The night of June 14, 1941, 15,000 Latvians were killed in Siberia.  Everyone in Latvia knew someone who had been deported to Siberia.

Our guide shared that her great-grandfather and two of his daughters were in Siberia.  They were educated and perceived as threats to the Soviets.  The only personal item they brought with them was a quilt to keep warm on the train.  The three of them lived and worked at a camp for almost twenty years. They barely survived.  When they returned to Riga they never talked about their experience, nor did they complain.  Liga, our guide said that they felt that the only way they could move forward was by forgiving the Soviets.  She said the lesson is forgiveness because if they were not able to forgive, the experience would have killed them.  I was stunned and saddened by her personal story.  She said everyone from Riga has one like it.

Later in WWII, the Nazis occupied Latvia.  The Soviet rule had been so intolerable that many of the Latvians welcomed the Nazis.  Can you imagine?  That sentiment didn’t last long.  When the Germans were losing the war, the Soviets occupied Latvia again in 1944 and ruled until 1991.

Our guide shared with us what life was like growing up under the long period of Soviet occupation.  She remembers very strict rules: no jeans, chocolate, and no Christmas celebrations or ornaments.  She could not celebrate birthdays or do anything joyous.   The only national celebration was the 8th of May, Victory Day.  She was forced to walk in a parade and experienced very little pleasure.

We walked around together all afternoon.  We visited the Riga Old Town, which was was founded in 1201 and was a key center in the 13-15th centuries.  Cobblestones, churches and the old wall make up the UNESCO designation of the old town.  We walked from the Old Town to the Art Nouveau neighborhood which built before World War I from 1900-1914.  The architectural style of the buildings reminded me of Gaudí’s work in Barcelona. I was impressed by the beauty and marveled about how little I had known about Riga. 

Liga brought us to the Russian embassy, where we saw many upsetting signs to Free Ukraine.  A band played in front of a small group of demonstrators. Many Latvians have Ukrainian relatives and are understandably very upset by the violence and war.

On our way back to our apartment, we walked past the Monument to Freedom in the center of Riga. Often the monument is decorated with flowers or candles and symbolizes the core values of the Latvian nation: family, hard work, spirituality and the unshakeable strength of the nation. During Soviet times, the monument was not taken down, but decorating or congregating around the moment was considered a forbidden display of Latvian patriotism, a form of anti-Soviet expression. 

At the end of the day, we wished our guide farewell.  She was the most amazing of all of our Baltic guides. I really appreciated her grit and self-reliance.  She knew that the winter ahead would be difficult with the rising inflation, especially the anticipated increases in the cost of utilities due to the Russian invasion of Ukraine.  Yet, she said that since Latvia survived Soviet brutality, they would be fine as long as they were free. I reminded myself not to take our freedom for granted.

That night Matt and I walked around the corner from our cozy flat to a restaurant called Forest and ordered their seven-course prix fixe menu.  We ate fresh, interesting and delightful Latvian local dishes and chatted with the lovely server.  We loved every bite. We couldn’t stop talking about how much we loved Riga! We walked back to our apartment as the sun was setting after a short rain storm.  The rainbows exemplified the a mood of hope and optimism I felt for the Latvians.

On our last day in Riga, we visited the museum of the Riga Ghetto. The museum was a small recreation of the small area in a neighborhood which was  designated by the Nazis where Jews from Latvia, and later from other parts of the German Reich, were forced to live during World War II.  It was another sobering reminder of the darkest days in history.

Across the street we walked back to the Riga Centra market and explored some more.  The afternoon, we walked around the Old City and enjoyed the parks and people of Riga.

On August 2nd, we flew back to Salt Lake City from Riga via Amsterdam. We felt both sad that the trip was over, and delighted by our discovery of the Baltic! Fantastic Trip. Five Stars.

Our ferry pulled into the Tallinn city harbor after the sun set.  The city lights surprised me. I hadn’t known what to expect since I had only seen photos of Tallinn’s Old City. We hired a taxi to take us to our apartment.  Ten minutes later, we arrived in the ancient walled city lined with cobblestones.  The taxi drove through a maze of narrow and twisty streets. Our gracious Airbnb hostess, Külliki greeted us and together we walked through the courtyard to her apartment.

Located on the oldest street in the center of the Old Town, our apartment shared a wall with the 15th Century city wall.  She showed us around the cozy clean apartment and answered a few questions about Tallinn.  Külliki grew up there.  She bought the apartment years before when she worked nearby.  She told us that Old Town Tallinn is a place to visit or celebrate.  It’s always special.  

Külliki looked Finnish with her blond hair, fair skin and trendy clothes.   She told us that Tallinn was a modern high-tech city where Skype was founded.  Estonia joined the EU and NATO in 2004 and had a progressive prime minister.  

The Estonian language was similar to Finnish – made sense.  We were very close to Finland.  Our ferry ride was only an hour and a half across the Baltic.   Külliki said Estonia was more like Europe and Latvia was more similar to Russia.  In hindsight, I’m not sure that’s entirely true.  We met a few other people in Estonia and Latvia with Russian roots who didn’t seem to share her view. Estonia and Latvia have very similar histories.   That night, we still didn’t have any opinions about these things.

We asked her what it was like living under the Russian occupation.  She responded soberly saying those years were very difficult. She she told us growing up, the Soviets took most of the good food leaving Estonians with bland vegetables and potatoes. In 1991, when she was a teenager, Estonia regained independence. On on brighter note, she told us their history made Estonians resilient and now she could enjoy all the good food produced locally.

Local farms provide produce to a daily open air market and restaurants.   There has never been industrial food production, keeping ingredients fresh.  As a result, the restaurants are surprisingly excellent. Michelin came to Estonia last year and reviewed thirty one restaurants for the first time.    We asked her for a restaurant recommendation.  We made a reservation for the next night and I was blown away.  Who knew Estonia had such scrumptious food?

Our tour the next morning started at the Tallinn Town Hall Square which has been the center and marketplace of the Old City since the Middle Ages.  Tallinn, the capitol of Estonia and has been well preserved making it a UNESCO World Heritage site.  The town hall was built in the 13th century. The story of Tallinn is one of occupation and freedom.

The city was first claimed by the Danish. In 1710 it was seized by the Russian empire and remained under Russian control until 1918.  After the Russian Revolution, Estonia declared independence.  They were free and prosperous for just over twenty years until World War II, when it was involuntarily annexed into the USSR in 1940. The Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic existed until 1991 when Estonia regained independence.  They simply dusted off their 1918 constitution and still observe that document today.

All of the Baltic states share the dark past of Russian occupation.  The Russians worked diligently to erase the history of their republics.  The Russians made national folk songs illegal.  Matt and I watched a beautiful documentary called “The Singing Revolution” which depicts how the Estonians fought for their independence nonviolently using their love for singing.  These peaceful people are tough yet tender.  A spirit of freedom in the Baltic States exists unlike in the US.  I returned home with a vow to remember how privileged we are to be free.

The war in Ukraine makes the Baltic States vulnerable.  It’s close and scary in both Estonia and Latvia.  The proximity of the countries to Ukraine and Russia makes the war very relatable.  In Tallinn,  there’s a block of banners and signs calling Putin a killer and pleas to stop the war along the Russian embassy – an emotional sight to see.

It’s complicated too because thirty percent of Estonians have Russian roots.  Our tour guide was an Estonian citizen from Russia.  She attended Russian schools and spoke Russian at home.  Unlike our Airbnb host, she didn’t consider Estonia European. Although she knew Tallinn’s history well, she didn’t share nearly as much color or story of living in Estonia.  She kept her cards close.  We asked her about the Estonian Prime Minister who was providing Ukraine with financial and military aid.  Our tour guide did not like her and said when politicians ran out of things to talk about, they discussed closing Russian schools.  She rolled her eyes.  Huh.

After our City tour, we enjoyed a coffee in a cafe inside the Tall Hernann Tower.  We decided to leave the city walls and walk to the Estonian Maritime Museum called Sea Plane Harbor.  In 2010 the city restored an old hanger for seaplanes and created this museum.  The main feature was a 1936 submarine called Lembit and a sad exhibit about a Baltic Sea tragedy during World War II.   We visited the museum and walked across town to the market next to the train station.

The lively market was filled with beautiful berries, vegetables, and sweets. Local people shopped for produce.  Outside the station, we wandered into the Telliskivi district which is made up of old Soviet barracks.  It’s been transformed into a hip and trendy neighborhood filled with restaurants and shops.   Nine years dear ago, this arts district was developed.   Graffiti, sculptures and art instillations gave the area a bohemian feel.   Our reservation was on the top floor of the Fotografiska art gallery.  We took the elevator up and were seated right away.

The restaurant was incredible!  The tables were elegant and the view was extraordinary.    The old city roofs lined the sky.   Our waiter was knowledgable, hospitable and encouraged us to order to the House Menu and try all the dishes.  We did.

The restaurant boasted zero waste.  They cooked creatively using everything somewhere in the menu.  All the ingredients were in season and tasty.  It was easy to see why this place was awarded a Michelin “green” star.  It made me adore Tallinn even more. We wondered what it would it be like to live in Tallinn, shop at the market, eat at the restaurants and live among the lovely Estonians.

The next morning we wandered around the Old City.  After breakfast, we packed up and walked to the tram stop outside the walls and headed to the bus station.  We paid 1 euro 50 per ticket, which pleased my frugal heart.  A few minutes into the tram ride, we realized we were going the wrong direction.  I tried to open the door and didn’t know how.  A nice passenger calmly told us how to open the door.   Four stops later, we hopped off the tram and waited on the other side of the street for our correct tram.  We arrived at the bus station in plenty of time.

We took the bus to Pärnu, the Baltic Seaside town.  Our ride was comfortable, easy and quick.  We stayed the night in a mirrored tiny house which and explored  Pärnu’s beach, parks, and little town.  I planned on swimming, but changed my mind because it was chilly.   I didn’t hear one English-speaking tourist in Pärnu.  There was a rowdy and boozy street party going on, and it seemed like everyone was either Estonian or European. In Pärnu, we were off the beaten path.

Early the next morning, we rolled our bags though the town and boarded a bus to Latvia.  We arrived in Riga a couple hours later.  Our final chapter of our Baltic Adventure was about to begin.

“What is the difference between a Finnish introvert and a Finnish extrovert?”   George, our cheery Finnish guide asked our small group.  He laughed and said, “An extrovert looks at the other person’s shoes.  The introvert looks at his own.” 

If you know anyone from Finland, this joke might make sense.  Finns tend to be shy.  According to George, people from Finland love their personal space, silence and nature. Finns survive the long dark winters with the help of three things: saunas, coffee and alcohol. 

 As Europe’s most northern country, it’s geographically remote, winter weather is severe, and days are short.  There’s only about five hours a daylight in the winter, but by mid June, the sun shines for up to nineteen hours.    The night we ferried across the Baltic Sea to Finland, the sun set at 11pm.  I saw it as we pulled into the harbor of Åland.  Åland is an island and a separate region of Finland that is not subject to the EU tax.  By stopping there, even for a few minutes, it allows the ferry to sell tax-free goods on board.    

I’ve never seen such a sunset like this one.   It was gorgeous.

Our ferry left Stockholm at 4pm.  We splurged and reserved a room with a bed and living area.  Our room was at the bow.  We were front and center. I was excited!  The journey leaving Stockholm was gorgeous.  We passed by thousands of archipelago islands on our way out to the open sea.  Some of the islands have towns.  Some are small with a few houses and docks.  Some islands are empty.  Happy I was not on a flight, the scenery was magnificent.

Two large ferry companies run routes between Stockholm and Helsinki each day.  Both have reputations for hard-partying passengers.  Thanks to the Åland loophole, the booze on board is tax-free.  Many travelers stay up all drinking at the on-board casino and disco.  Happy to have another option, we delighted in our private cabin with the sea view.

We left our room for two meals.  I reserved a table in the dining for us at 7pm.  We wandered down to the restaurant and walked into an enormous dinner buffet.  Matt counted herring prepared nine different ways. I preferred the smoked salmon.  I tried a few typical Finnish dishes like “Squeaky cheese”, rye bread and a local pastry called a Karelian pie, similar to a pirogue.  It was all pretty good.  But I liked the ice cream sundae bar for dessert.  I learned later that Finns love ice cream. I wonder if my Grandma Pearl was part Finnish?

That night I slept OK – not great.  The Baltic Sea is relatively calm, but I still worried about feeling sea sick.  I never did, but I had a hard time falling asleep. Before long, we were at another buffet for breakfast. It was coffee time!  YAY.  I love coffee.  I love the taste, the ritual, and the caffeine.  When I heard that Finnish people consume more coffee than any other nation in the world, I knew I’d be right at home.

We arrived into the Port of Helsinki at 10am.  We stashed our luggage in a locker and headed out for the day.  The ferry building was less than a mile to the city center.  We meandered along the sea until we saw a church on the hill.  We checked it out and then continued to the Market Square.  It’s the most famous market in the city.  A swanky coffee shop beckoned us in we sat down and sipped an oat milk latte.  We then made a decision which I soon regretted.

It was a coffee shop in the front and a theater in the back.  Our barista talked us into the Flying Cinema Tour of Finland.  He said it was a must, especially since we were in town for only one day.   With enthusiasm, we bought tickets.  We settled into the empty theatre and put on our 3d glasses.  The show started and I immediately felt sick.    This virtual cinema ride over the beautiful landscape of Finland was hell.  I was nauseous.  I couldn’t wait for the twelve minute film to stop.  We left and I survived.  But it took me a couple hours to stop feeling sick.  I sucked it up and we headed to check out the city.

We booked a walking tour at 2:30pm and so we had our morning to explore. We were going to go out to see the Fortress of Sveaborg & the Suomenlinna Islands but fortunately the tickets were sold out.  The thought of boarding a boat was too much anyway.  We strolled through the parks, pedestrian walk ways, and explored the small city.

We walked past a place called the Brewster Bar.  We stopped in to see if they had any merchandise.  It wasn’t that kind of place that sold merch. It was a dive bar.  By lunchtime, I finally felt better.   We decided on a sandwich shop called Holy Døner.  Their tag line: Sandwiches made in HEL.  We ordered pita sandwiches with fries on the inside and a cup of coffee.  Refills were free.

After lunch it rained.  Looking for shelter, we popped into the English department store, Mark’s and Spencer’s which reminded me of my years in London.  We each bought a Finnish made black sweater.  Matt’s was a zip-up cardigan, mine cashmere.  We left feeing a little cozier, and headed to the park to meet our guide George.  The rain stopped just as we started the tour.   Right from the start, I liked George.  He had plenty to share about a city and country I knew very little about.

Finland is a smaller than California.  Only five million people live in Finland versus California’s population of forty million.  Two thirds of Finland is forest.  Finland has more bodies of water than any other country in the world, and over 175,000 islands. 

The Finns love their sauna.  They pronounce it “sow-na” as opposed “saw-na”.  99% of Finnish people take one at least once a week and more in the winter.   There are public saunas, private saunas, resort saunas and “hippy” saunas.  Saunas for everyone.  When the weather is warm, George said he takes a sauna and then jumps in the sea and returns to the hot sauna.   And then drinks a beer.  It’s his perfect day.

(Disappointed that our nine hour day didn’t include a sauna, I was pleased when we arrived in Estonia and our apartment had one in the bathroom.  They too love their saunas.)

George grew up in Helsinki and joyfully showed us the city’s churches, statues, and squares.  We started at the Helsinki Cathedral, and then walked to the new central library Oodi which opened in December, 2018.  A modern building within a large park, it serves as a community center offering activities for all ages.   A percentage of the budget was spent on public art.  My favorite display was a collection of words describing different population groups, lining a stairwell.  It was designed by Otto Karvonen and is a dedication to the library’s users.  I’ve never seen a more inclusive list of words describing the wide variety of people living on this earth.  George beamed with pride when he showed us.

We took a walk through the city and up the hill to a most unusual Lutheran Church called the Rock Church.  Plans for this church started in 1930s and was interrupted by World War II.  A few decades later, there was a design competition and all of the plans were for traditional churches except for one.  Two brothers, Timo and Tuomo Suomalainen won the contest with their unique design to build the church straight into the rock. 

The Rock Church walls are stone and the domed ceiling is lined with cooper coils.  Skylights allow the natural light to filter in.  Both a place of worship and a world class concert venue, the acoustics of the church are exquisite.

When we walked in, George audibly squealed.  An orchestra filled the pit and had just begun rehearsing.   George whispered, “I have brought 99 tours here and only once – just once – today you will hear music.  You are SO lucky!”  I felt lucky. Silently, we sat and listened to the incredible sounds of the orchestra in the Rock Church.  It was a holy moment indeed.

From the Rock Church, we walked back into the city center to Narinkka Square.  Right in the middle of the busy urban area was a modern wooden structured called the “Chapel of Silence”.  People in Helsinki come to sit and have a moment of silence and find calm.    They stop in before work, during work, after work.   I just can’t imagine a place like that being used in the US.  I think we could use it though.  I loved the Chapel of Silence.  It was a beautiful end to our day in Helsinki. 

Our friend Thomas (pronounced Too-mas) is Finnish.  We’ve known and adored him and his parents for years.  They were very excited for us to visit Helsinki.  After we left, I texted him from the ferry to Tallin (our next stop) I shared my observations. I told him I felt I understood him a little more.  He responded,  “I had a STEAMER of a sauna last night, drank tequila, and had a huge coffee to go this morning as I run the trail side portion of the extreme cup next three days.    Is that a pattern that fits?  And I do like ice cream too.” The Finns know what they like and take care of themselves.  I love their authenticity.

We made it!  My heart pounded.  Desperate to make our flight to Copenhagen, we sprinted through the Amsterdam’s airport.  Ten minutes earlier, we stood still in a long immigration line.  I found my calm and whispered to my husband Matt optimistically. “We got this!”   He looked at me doubtfully.

 I caught the eye of an official and asked for help. Our flight was leaving in fifteen minutes.  She verified our boarding pass and lifted up the black stanchion belts. We moved over to the express line.  A few minutes later, passports stamped, we ran through the packed airport.  I felt like I was in the video game Frogger dodging thousands of travelers.

As I settled in my seat, I noticed the chipper blond-hair bright-eyed flight attendant.  She greeted each passenger with a sweet voice and big smile.  I said to Matt, “We must be close to Denmark.  She’s really happy.”

I  know that Danes have a reputation for being the happiest people in the world. I couldn’t wait to find out if that was really true. And if so, why?   After three days in Copenhagen, I understood a bit more what all the hype about “Hygge”.

If you’re not familiar with that word, it’s pronounced “hugh-ga”.  It’s an attitude or quality of coziness that makes a person feel content and comfortable. It’s pretty trendy and true. 

Aside from wearing  scarves, reading by the fireplace, and inviting good friends over for a warm homemade meal, I realized after talking to the three Danes I met:  Ole, our airbnb host, Bastia our canal boat ride captain and Sylvester, our Danish tour guide that life in Denmark is pretty good because Danish people feel taken care of by their government.

There’s a lack of ego or pretense.  That’s true if you are ordinary, political or royal.  Their culture values equality and humility.  Members of parliament ride their bikes to work.  The prince walks his dog in the park.  The wealth gap that we experience in the US doesn’t exist in Denmark.  There are not a lot of rich families and I didn’t see one un-housed person.   The Danes have a lot of national pride.  It’s a society filled with beautiful, kind and sensible people.

The transportation from the airport to the old city was simple.  The ticket cost less than five dollars.  When we arrived and walked out of the station, the first thing I noticed were the sheer number of bikes parked at the station.  Unlike Amsterdam a city also filled with bikes and there there was a space for every bike.

Almost everyone bikes in Copenhagen. It’s convenient and the terrain is flat. There are separate bike lanes nearly as wide as car lanes.  Bikes are permitted on the metro, bus, and train.  Our tour guide, Sylvester said with a smile that he owns three bikes: a commuter bike, a mountain bike and an emergency bike in case one is flat.  Most people have two bikes.

People seemed relaxed Copenhagen. The security they receive from their government allows them to enjoy their lives.  About forty percent of income is paid in taxes. While that is high, the money provides a tremendous number of benefits making life smoother and predictable.  Transportation, education and health care are known identities.  Bastia told us his paycheck is modest and so are his expenses.  He trusts the politicians. I didn’t sense a lot of complaining. I saw cohesiveness – and street art. Especially in the FreeTown of Christiania, the world’s largest squatter’s community and international commune.

People living in Denmark don’t worry about being sick or injured.  Everyone with a working visa or Danish citizenship has a social security card and a doctor who they call for an appointment or referral.  Sylvester broke his arm last winter.  He not only had surgery and physical therapy, but was paid his full salary for a month to recover.   Being saddled with medical bills or turned away for lack of insurance is a foreign concept to the Danes.

Education and family matter to the Danish.  Every new parent receives ten months of paid paternity leave.   Men are encouraged to take three or four out of the ten months to to bond with their babies which allows the mamas to go back to work if they chose and know their babies are in good hands  The leadership gap in the work place between men and women is less than in the US . Mothers are able to work without worrying about who will take care of their kids.

Childcare is subsidized and even more important, available in Denmark!   Their government ensures that there are enough spots for the children at daycare and pay for new facilities if needed.  97% of Danish children go to daycare starting at one years old.  Kindergarten begins at three years old.   If a family can not afford daycare, the government pays.  Sylvester said “those with the broadest shoulders carry the biggest burden.”

The government often pays elders take care of the toddlers before they go to kindergarten.  It makes so much sense to give someone who is older a job. I imagine the wisdom and youth transferring between generations.  I asked if nannies were popular.  Sylvester answered, “only for the very rich.”   In Utah, I spend a lot of time with new mamas and I can attest to the stress caused by the lack of maternity leave and childcare.  The US has a long way to go.

In addition to health care, maternity leave, and childcare,  tuition is paid for by the government.  Our guide book said, “university tuition is paid for but not room, board or beer.”   The Danes love to drink!  Starting at sixteen, teens can go to bars legally to drink beer, wine or spritzers.  It is part of their culture.

Another thing I loved about Copenhagen was the commitment to energy efficient housing and building projects.  On a boat tour, we saw incredible housing projects.  There were containers repurposed as student housing, cement military barracks reclaimed and modernized as well as new “green” construction building apartment complexes for the growing population.  

Copenhagen is a city mixed of old and new.  Stone churches and statues from the 16th century stand next to contemporary buildings.  Flowers, cafes, bakeries and restaurants line the cobble stone streets. 

 I didn’t hear one horn.  I didn’t see any police.  Instead, I saw picnic tables, benches and people out in the summer time enjoying life.  There’s a lot of laughter in Copenhagen.  I loved it. It’s my kind of place.  I can see why these people are ranked the happiest in the world.

“We have a problem”, the woman at the Marseille Iberia counter explained to me.  “There are two tickets issued in Sara’s name but we don’t have one for Sadie.”

I didn’t understand. 

“We need to be on this flight!  It’s my birthday and we are meeting my husband in Quito.  Is there anything I can do?’

The French woman politely responded,  “No.  We have to wait to talk to American Airlines.”

A year ago, my dad bought tickets from Marseille to Quito using American Airlines miles. The Fuller Family holiday adventure to the  Galapagos had been planned for a long time.; even before our semester in France had been confirmed.

I panicked.  It was 5:30am and we had fifteen minutes before Iberia closed the baggage for the 6:25am flight.  Brewster sweetly touched my arm.  I was nervous and pushed him away. 

Ten minutes later.  “Any luck?”   She shook her head.  “No.”

“Ah!  I need to buy a ticket.  I’ll do anything!” I handed her my credit card.  She told me that I needed to go downstairs to another terminal to the partner desk in order to purchase a ticket.  I took off running.    “Brewster, Sadie, stay with the bags. This will work out.  It’s OK.”  My optimism kicked in.

I sprinted.  I prayed.  I really did believe. I knew that we were going to be on that flight, but I had to hurry.  Breathless, I arrived at the desk and handed the man my credit card.  Frazzled, he explained that he it would be an hour before he could talk to American.  I said, “I don’t care. I need a ticket to Madrid!”  He pounded frantically on the computer.  He looked up.  “The flight is closed.”

“No. Please.  I need a ticket.” I felt oddly calm.  And then boom, the flight was open.  He took my credit card and entered Sadie’s information into the computer. I had no idea if the ticket would be 100 or 500 euro.  I didn’t care but was pleased when I later saw it was 160 euro.  I scribbled my signature, sprinted back to the kids and my bags at the counter and continued check-in.

I nearly cried at this point.  Brewster was ashen.  Sadie was oblivious to the stress.  The woman printed out six luggage tags, weighed our bags and rushed us off to security.  The last to board the plane, the three of us sat down and it hit us.  We were leaving France.   

Sadie said, “What happened?”  Ignorance was bliss.

What did happen??  I thought my dad made a mistake when booking the tickets.   I sent him a frantic email from Marseille, cc’ing my sister Mara.  “Help!” was the subject. But really they couldn’t do anything.  My dad woke up in the middle of the night, checked his email and immediately started dealing.  He is amazing like that.  He was on hold with American when we finally connected.    I was in Madrid so I told him not to bother and go back to bed.  We left the Madrid security and went to the American Airlines desk.  We learned American reissued the tickets in May they duplicated my ticket.  It was the airline’s fault.  Oh well.  I am confident they will reimburse me for their mistake and I felt grateful that we were in Madrid and not stuck in Marseille.  I thanked my angels.  We couldn’t wait to see Matt!

The four of us reunited in Quito about 7pm Ecuador time.  I didn’t let the kids calculate what time it was in France, but we all knew it was close to twenty-four hours of travel.  Fortunately, our first night, we stayed at a nice hotel near the airport.   The kids ordered room service and Matt and I celebrated the last of my 30-hour birthday over dinner downstairs.   I was happy and so very tired.

I had planned a few days at a resort to reconnect and relax before our Galapagos trip.   It was a good call.   I read about Baños, a town three hours away from Quito and booked two rooms at a Spa Hotel. The hotel coordinated a driver to pick us up in Quito and about 10am on  the 22nd we were in a car driving up out of the crowded city of Quito.  Quito was a basin and the green covered hills leading to the Andes lined the city along with urban sprawl.  We drove on a nice highway funded by the Chinese government around the rim of the city and headed south towards the Samari Spa in Baños.

Clearly, we were not in Europe anymore.  The vegetation was different than anything the kids had ever seen.  There must have been ten different shades of green in the lush trees and grass.  Our drive took us through a sprawl of ramshackle houses and endless mangos and banana stands.  Stray dogs lined the streets.  Women with babies tied to their back stood on the side of the road with a hand out hoping for a car to slow down and give them some spare change.  Restaurants roasted chickens, pigs and other South American cuisine. Their marketing strategy is to plant someone outside their restaurant with an orange street-crossing flag and wave down cars.  

The radio in our car played Lite FM singles from the ’80’s: Lionel Richie, Kenny Rogers, Air Supply.  Our driver hummed along with the music.  Matt rode shotgun and the three of us tired travelers snuggled in the back.   We talked the whole way to Baños swapping stories and sharing tidbits about what we knew about Ecuador.  We looked outside and watched the countryside.  The Hutchinsons were so happy to be back together.

We were excited when the car pulled into our resort  It looked more like Bali than Ecuador (although not having been to either, it’s just my guess.) We suspected the resort used to be a monastery because we spotted stain glass windows on some of the wooden buildings.  The  courtyards and fountains contributed to an overall meditative vibe.  It was perfect.

The weather in Baños was cloudy but dry.  We walked around the grounds and soaking in the beautiful landscape.  Pink, purple and red  flowers accentuated the green grass.  Brewster ran on the soccer field and Sadie cartwheeled on the lawn. We checked out the pool and spa and ate lunch.

The next few days, we relaxed.  We planned an outing a day.  On Sunday the 23rd, we river rafted down the Pastaza River.  The trip was not expensive and it included transportation and lunch.   I remember booking it and almost wishing that they’d charge us a little more.  Rafting in a developing country.  What could go wrong?

 Looking back, Matt and I realized that in their safety talk they didn’t say “If you fall into the river” but instead, “when you fall into the river” and we didn’t sign a waiver.   Our Geotour guides seemed professional, but a little loose.

We rafted sixteen class three or four rapids over a few mile stretch.  Luckily we had two strong backpackers in the front paddling hard.   Our scene became hectic quick. On the third rapid, both dudes up front fell out and so did Brewster!  Sadie freaked out when our raft spun around and around on one rapid. We were stuck.  I lost my paddle, grabbed Sadie’s leg as well as her paddle and listened to our guide for instructions praying the boat didn’t flip.  It was SO scary!  Matt looked nervous.  Finally, when we passed through the rapid, I saw that Brewster was rescued by the safety kayak and was safe in another raft.  Moments later we were reunited.  Paddles hit paddles signifying a high five.  No way out but through.  I needed to be brave.

Shortly we reached another gnarly rapid.  This time the guide gave us an option to hop out of the boat, walk on the rocks and swim through the rapid.   It sounded great to all six of us gringos.  First Brewster leapt into the raging river fearlessly.   Sadie followed.  I watched them float on their backs,  knees tucked into their chest as they navigated big river rocks.  Sensational!  “Hello fear.  I feel you.”  I said to myself as I took a deep breath.  I trusted that we’d make it off the river safely and we did.

The only consequence from our rafting adventure was Brewster gulped some river water which may have caused his upset stomach.  We’ll never know.  But that Sunday afternoon, we were all still feeling strong and happy to be off the river.  What an adventure!

After rafting, we lunched with our group at a local restaurant (maybe Brewster picked up something there?).   I loved hearing about the travels of others in our group.  The extended South American hostel adventures were new to the kids.  We returned to our resort, relaxed and later went into Baños for dinner.  The town was bustling with vendors on the square and children in the park.  We walked a few blocks looking for our dinner spot and figured out pretty quickly that we were lost. Not having wifi nor speaking Spanish made it difficult to find our spot but we did.  We ate a quick dinner and headed home in a taxi feeling our jet lag and excited for bed.  I love that our taxi cost $1.50 (Did you know that Ecuador is uses American currency?)

The next day, we hired a cab to take us on a waterfall tour.  We stopped at five spectacular  gushing waterfalls.   Along the way there were multiple options to swing from homemade suspension bridges, or zip line over the 500 foot canyon.  “No gracias” was our repeated answer.  At one point, Matt asked me if I thought our cab driver was disappointed that we weren’t taking the opportunity to ride one of these crazy contraptions.  “Maybe but I don’t really care.  You’re right.  I am sure these people are his cousins or friends. I’m all set though.  I had enough action yesterday on the river!”  A quiet taxi was just my speed.

The last waterfall, Pailon del Diablo was the most beautiful. The Mini-Niagara Falls which means Devil’s Cauldron in Spanish pounded through the lush Andes.  The energy and sheer size of this natural wonder reminded me of our size and place in the universe. We all loved it and Brewster had a field day shooting photos.

That night was Christmas Eve and our resort hosted a very special evening buffet.  Santa and his elves greeted us.  The Ecuadorians were ready to party!  Everyone was so dressed up and so sweet.  We enjoyed our dinner but did not stick around for the DJ or dancing.  We was happy to have our heads on our pillows.  I went to bed excited to see my family the next day.

Until….Brewster woke me up at 4:15am.  “Mom, I think I am sick”. Boo.  Skipping the details, I was incredibly impressed with Brewster’s resilience.  He dug deep and rode the three hours back to Quito without complaint or an extra stop.  We arrived in the late afternoon and  saw my sisters, the cousins, and my parents. 

Sadie mentioned that she missed our Christmas tradition (snow, the dogs, our tree, presents) but we agreed that this year was certainly different.  Not better or worse. Just different.

The Fuller family celebrated Christmas with some bubbles at the hotel and then went down the block a a roof-top restaurant just as the sun was setting.  Brewster stayed behind and slept for almost 13 hours.  The rest of us enjoyed the 360 degree view, each other and the fact that our trip to the Galapagos was about to begin!

My throat tightened and tears filled my eyes.   The time had come to say goodbye.   This was our last basketball practice and Brewster’s team planned a “goûter” to bid Brewster farewell and celebrate his birthday. A few parents and their sweaty teenage boys gathered around the baked goods.

“Thank you” I said to Medi, Brewster’s coach, holding namaste hands next to my heart. “Thank you so much for welcoming us….for being so kind.  And for including Brewster on the part of this team.  Vous êtes trés gentile.”

Medi responded in fast French.   Brewster was always welcome in France and on his team.  It had been a pleasure to coach him.  In broken English, he said, “Good boy.  Brewster is a good boy.”  Tears slid down my cheeks.

It was time to go – our bus left in seven minutes.  The few parents, none of whose name I knew, kissed me on both cheeks. “Bonne Fête.  Bon Voyage.”  Despite never having a conversation with any of them, I felt close to this community. 

When we walked to the bus, it hit us that we were leaving France the next day.

Brewster’s fourteenth birthday was our last day in France.  We woke up and Sadie went to the boulangerie for the last time.  We walked out of the apartment at 7:20am and caught our number 8 bus, for the last time.  At school, we bid the birthday boy farewell and Sadie and I crossed the street and went to our café Paul.  Sitting at our usual table, I looked around at the boulangerie, soaking it the details and admiring the beautiful Bouche-de-Noëls in the case.

Both Sadie and Brewster’s classes celebrated their last day with a “goûter.”  Sadie’s teacher, Madame Pougnaud invited me at 3pm to join the celebration.  Her classmates made her a banner filled with messages like “Je t’adore” and “I’ll miss you.”  When it was time to say goodbye, Sadie had  friends lining up for hugs and goodbyes.  It was like leaving Red Pine camp all over again. Brewster’s departure was more mellow.  I asked him how he said good-bye to Lucas, his buddy.  Brewster said “Ciao” and walked out the school gate.

At 5:30pm, our bags were packed and Brewster was home. For his birthday, the three of us walked into town to shop and eat dinner at Koi.  We’d celebrated both Sadie and Matt’s birthdays this fall at that restaurant so being back was a treat   Aix-en-Provence was lit up with Christmas lights.  We agreed there wasn’t a nicer way to say good-bye to our beloved town.

On that final walk home, we talked about our first trip into Aix-en-Provence in August.  We were so lost that afternoon.  Everything was so strange and confusing.  Here we were, four months later walking home in the dark.  A foreign place became our home.

So many stressful moments filled our early days in Aix. It was hard to figure our out routine: school, busses, basketball.  Over time, we made the extraordinary ordinary.  I am incredibly impressed with the kids’s resilience.  Somedays, even I was overwhelmed with what I was asking of them.  What was I thinking to live alone with them in a foreign city, attend school in another language, and ask them to smile since I don’t like complaining.  We laughed a lot, especially when it was hard.  The travel and adventure balanced out the difficulty.  Now that the semester over,  both Sadie and Brewster are proud of themselves.  And they are not the only ones who are proud. 

I adored the school secretary Emily and her mother the headmistress.  When I dropped off our school books and uniforms they pointed out that some kids move from Paris to Marseille and struggle more than Brewster and Sadie.  They both tried to be very easy going.  Some of the teachers didn’t even know that Brewster’s first language wasn’t french which I found impressive!    Park City French served them well.  It gave them a foundation but it was time and exposure that made them feel more comfortable at school.  Brewster pointed out, there were so many phrases that aren’t taught in a class room.  For instance, it took him a few weeks to figure out that “mec” was “dude”.  After awhile, both Sadie and Brewster caught on and finished the semester with a strong handle on the language.

It was strange to for the kids to say goodbye to friends that they likely would never see again. Their friends were so diverse.   Brewster’s buddies were from Poland and Italy.  Sadie’s friends were Indian.   So many of their students at school were children of mixed parents.  One parent might be French and the other Thai/Italian/Dutch – so different than Utah.  With the exception of our good friends the Laaksos (Thomas is Finish) everyone we know is the child of American parents and grandparents.  That cultural homogeneity is not common in Europe.

And what did France mean to me?  These past four months felt like a spiritual sabbatical.  My days were quiet and free when the kids were at school. My days did not speed by.  They were long probably because I was never “busy”.   What a luxury!  I took the time to practice being mindful, present, and joyful. I walked around in a state of wonder and curiosity.  And since I didn’t have a job or a social life I focused most of my time and energy on the kids.  They felt and appreciated my attention.   It was a pleasure.

Our French life was simple but adventurous.  Living in an apartment without a car of course had it’s challenges.  But it was also very easy. I didn’t have any dogs to walk or a house to tidy.  We had no clutter.   The kids didn’t have playdates or after school activities so I didn’t  coordinate anything beyond basketball.  Our routine was simple and consistent.    Without friends to talk to, we all talked to each other.  We traveled.  We played cards.  We slept a lot.

I woke up every morning at 5am (9pm Utah time) to call Matty.  I won’t miss that, but I was happy to do it to maintain a close connection.  He missed us and we missed him!   After our call, I turned on the coffee, mediated for 20 minutes and journaled.  By that time, the kids were up and I felt calm and grounded.

My French improved.  Thursdays, I met a few girls at a coffee shop for conversation for “Blah Blah”.  We spoke French with our teacher, Karina for an hour. And then later that afternoon I had a private French lesson with Karina.  I loved her.  She constantly corrected my pronunciation and challenged me. I realized that some of the French pronunciation  I learned in 7th grade was incorrect. I had to reprogram my brain which is not easy and very humbling.

Those friends from Blah Blah became my Aix Aimes.  We saw each other almost every week.  We shared adventure stories and bonded over living in France.  Aside from them I made one other friend from Colorado who became a soul-sister.  We only hung out a few times, but we always had fun.  My small social circle satiated me.

I will miss  my yoga studio, Noëlle Yoga.   My primary teacher, Alexandra lived in California for ten years making her a strong vinyasa yogi who had great taste in music.  All the French yoga classes were at least 75 minutes or an hour and a half.  The slower pace was a stark contrast to American yoga.  Every class began with a meditation and ended with a long savasana.  We held poses for twice as long as we typically do in the US.  This did not make the class any easier.  My mind strengthened through my French yoga practice.   We’d be in a pose for what seemed like forever and because I didn’t understand the French cues I had no idea when we’d end.  I’d occasionally become frustrated. I had to relax to soften my body and by that point, the pose was over. “This too shall pass” came up in my mind often. I walked out of every class challenged.  Those French yogis are strong!

Because of the time change between the US and France,  I didn’t have texts or email that needed my immediate response.  I checked email usually once a day for an hour.  The rest of the time, I was present in my life in Aix.  I walked, listened to a  ton of podcasts, practiced yoga, learned French, wrote this blog and planned adventures.  It was truly a gift.

Four months was perfect amount time to live Europe.  Had Matt been with us, perhaps I’d want to stay longer.  But the kids were ready to return to Park City.  They can’t wait to go to school with their friends and speak English. 

At one point, Sadie said she felt guilty because she was so happy to be going home.  I said, “No, way Sadie.  Don’t feel guilty. I am happy too!”  The time came.  We did everything that we wanted to do and it was time to go.

I know that every time something ends, another things begins.  They are both two sides sides of the same coin.  This chapter is over but I am excited for the next one.

Intentions are powerful.  France was my dream for years and with tenacity, patience and trust, my dream was realized.  

And now we are in Ecuador for the holidays.  We are so happy to be with Matt!  He asked me if I was going to continue my blog and I asked him what he thought.  He suggested that I continue.  So, today I write Au Revoir Aix, but Bonjour Aix will continue. Life is an adventure, no matter where we are.  Why not share?

Happy Holidays.
XOXO
Sara

Spain was high on Brewster’s wishlist.  “Mom, can we please go to Barcelona?”  He repeated over the past couple of months.  I’d answer, “probably not.”  That was until a few weeks ago when I looked at the TGV schedule and spotted a direct train from Aix-en-Provence to Barcelona.  I wanted to treat Brewster for surviving a semester of Spanish 3 taught in French and treat Sadie for completing a semester of French school.  As my dear friend Julie Leahy pointed out recently,  “Why Not?”  which has become my mantra in France.  

I talked over the idea with Matt. “Babe, Barcelona is only four and a half hours away.” ” I started convincing him.   “ We can leave Saturday morning and return Sunday night.  It’s our birthday week and Brewster doesn’t have basketball that weekend. It’d be really fun.  What do you think?”

There are so many things I love about Matt including his answer.  “Yes, go.  Definitely go to Barcelona.  It’ll be a blast and you won’t regret it.”  He was absolutely right and so awesome for saying so.

I booked our train tickets and started searching for a hotel.  I prefer Airbnb for two or more nights but just for one night, I’m a fan of hotels.  I rank hotels by their stars on hotels.com and look for the best deal.  After reading reviews and researching the best Barcelona location, I booked a boutique hotel room in the Gothic Quarter. I was excited and so were the kids!

Friday night we packed an overnight bag and set our alarms for 6:45am.  “World traveling is exhausting,” I said sarcastically when the kids quietly complained about waking up that early on a Saturday.   

We walked to the bus station in the dark and took a bus from Aix to the TGV station as the sun rose.   At 8:15am we boarded the train going towards Madrid.  Four and half hours later, we were in the Barcelona train station looking for the subway.  “Another metro,” Brewster said as we walked underground.  We were noticeably more comfortable than we were a few months ago navigating public transportation in a foreign city.  I smiled watching Sadie and Brewster walk through the turnstile confidently.

We exited the subway on La Rambla at the Christoper Columbus Monument. I remembered the view from 2004 when Matt and I visited Barcelona.  The Spanish sun warmed us up.  We shed a layer and walked to the coast.  With our backs to the Mediterranean Sea, we looked down La Rambla and I said, “Well guys, welcome to Barcelona!”

Brewster pointed out a Catalonian flag nearby and educated us about the Catalonian Independence movement.  He knows more than I do which is both impressive and handy.

We walked down the wide pedestrian street, La Rambla, through the market stalls to Place Real, a square filled with trees, fountains and restaurants. From there, I passed my navigations over to Brewster and he lead us down the narrow windy streets of the Gothic Quarter to our hotel.   We checked in and giggled when the bell-man asked if we were celebrating our anniversary.  I remembered I mentioned in my reservation that we were celebrating our birthdays so they were clearly confused.  They gave us a bottle of wine which I opened and enjoyed a glass.  Our room was a step up from the accommodations we’ve been staying in and the kids loved it.

Our first stop on our afternoon field trip was a walk past the beautiful Cathedral and across to the amazing Mercat de la Boquieria. 

Colorful food and people filled the covered food market.  Restaurants lined the side of the market and on this Saturday afternoon, it was the place to be!  We agreed that it would be fun to be a local in Barcelona and meet a friend for tapas or a beer at the market.  The kids appetite was whet but they were more in the mood for sweets, so we walked next door for a scoop of home-made gelato. 

From there, we hopped on the metro and headed north to Antoine Gaudi’s Park Güell. The park was a steep walk uphill from the stop which felt good after sitting on the train all morning.  I bought tickets for Gaudi’s house which is now a museum.   I mistakenly thought his mosaic sculptures were located outside the house.  Instead of his art, we looked at his old furniture, prayer room and luscious garden.  He clearly was a very religious man and an incredible artist and architect.  

To see mosaic sculptures in the park required another ticket.  The line was long so we decided to skip it continue our adventure. We walked around the park and back to a different metro station noticing the architecture and plethora of urban art.  Happily we returned back to our hotel, cleaned up and headed out to the El Born neighborhood for tapas.  The kids were a little nervous looking at the menu. Sadie thought tapas were Mexican, so she was confused by the foreign list of Catalonian specialties.  They both put their brave faces on and ordered.  The three of us shared a variety of tasty dishes including a ginger sweet potato dip, pesto cheese toasties, blackened cod, and ginger chicken which hung off of a metal skewer on a stand resembling a hang-man sketch.

El Born was another windy dark neighborhood filled with cozy restaurants, art galleries and boutiques.  I decided that I needed to come back to Barcelona for an extended amount of time with Matt to visit in the dozens of places that we walked quickly by.  We stopped for fresh hot churros and ate them on the way back to our chic hotel.  

I woke up earlier than the kids and snuck out  in search for coffee and a Sunday morning adventure.  The streets were empty. I walked to the Catalunya Plaza, picked up a latte and followed an online walking tour through the Gothic Quarter. I strolled past the art gallery where Picasso showed his art as well as gothic arches, plazas and fountains.  I loved the morning solace.  By 10am, I returned to the hotel, ate some breakfast with the kids and packed up.  We had 11:30 tickets to the most famous Barcelona Gaudi building, La Sagrada Familia.  The unfinished Roman Catholic Church may be the most amazing architectural feat I’ve ever seen. I loved seeing it a second time.  When Gaudi died, the church was only a quarter of the way finished.  Since 1926, they have been working  on it continuously, except for a pause during the Spanish Civil War.  The city is hoping to finish the Cathedral in 2026, for the centennial of Gaudi’s death.

There were a few other hundred (maybe thousand?) people enjoying the the beautiful church so I was happy that I had pre-purchased tickets.  Impressed, we loved the intricate stone work, the tall ceilings, modern architecture and beautiful stained glass.  It was unlike any other European church we’d seen in our travels this semester.

We walked twenty minutes down the street to Casa Milà and Casa Batilò, two other of Gaudi’s buildings.  They are located in what we called the “Superbrand” shopping district in Barcelona.  Stores like like Prada, Gucci, Dior,  & Louis Vitton lined the wide boulevard.  We  bought Sadie a new winter jacket at a French store, IKKS and and headed to lunch.

After lunch, we strolled down La Rambla enjoying the mid-December mild weather.  We walked through the Gothic Quarter back to our hotel for our luggage and back to the Metro to the Barcelona train station.  When we were boarding the train Brewster said, “Wow, that felt like a lot more than 28 hours”.

It’s amazing what I’ve packed in to our semester in Europe.  As I wrap up our time in France, like our trip to Barcelona, I have no regrets.

Where to start?! Well, when we got off the train in Watford Junction it was amazing! We walked out to the platform and then the woman said, “are you here for Harry Potter?”  “Yes!” I replied, feeling very exited, and relived this is it. I thought this is where it all starts.

We got on the Harry Potter shuttle bus and sat on the top deck. Mom asked me what I was expecting and I replied,“well I’m trying not to expect anything so that I’m not disappointed.” When we got off the bus, we saw the studio and I was so exited! We walked up and while mom was checking in, I walked around.  I knew immediately that this was where I wanted to be. There were posters everywhere and I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was amazing. We walked in and I saw some things I recognized and others I didn’t. Then we walked down a long corridor that had some of my favorite Harry Potter quotes.

We walked into a big room with photos of a bunch of characters. From that room we entered the gift shop. We browsed a little bit and then I saw what I wanted. I had wanted a wand for a long time. We saw one at the Kings Cross gift shop but I bought something else.  There there was a wider selection at Harry Potter and the wands were on display so you knew which one you were getting. I checked out a lot of cool wands then I decided between two: Ginny Weasley’s and Horace Slughorn’s. I ended up getting Ginny’s.

After the gift shop we started our tour in a movie theater.  The actors on the screen were shown in front of the Great Hall door.  When the short movie was finished the screen rolled up and revealed that we were in front of the same door that the actors were.

We went through the Great Hall door and it was exactly like the Great Hall that we saw in the movies. I had no idea what it was going to be like so I didn’t really realize that we were going to be on the same set that the actors were on during filming. I then knew what we were going to be doing. I started to know what to expect. Pictures started forming in my mind and then I got really exited.

We proceeded into another big room that I realized were all the sets. I just took off.  I first went to a few of the costumes. They we’re amazing. I saw sketches and then pictured the real thing on screen. My mind was blown. Then I went to a few of the sets.  Some of my favorites were: the Gryffindor common room, the boy’s dormitories, the headmaster’s office, and the burrow (his best friend’s house).

Then we went to the café and had a Butterbeer. (A popular drink in the series.) Outside there was a triple decker bus, Harry’s childhood home, his destroyed family home, and a few vehicles that were featured in the movies.

Overall I thought it was an amazing experience and a really cool project. In fact someone told us that there’re over 4,200 people working on it. It was awesome and I enjoyed it very much!!

When we walked out of Paddington station, late Friday night I saw a double decker bus.  My body had a visceral reaction.  I was in London!  The city looked exactly as I remembered it twenty-six years ago:  red telephone booths,  black cabs, cobble stone sidewalks, white street signs with black and red lettering and of course cozy pubs everywhere.

Sometimes, living in London feels more like a story than than reality.  Over the years, I’ve repeatedly said “I went to high school in London”.  Occasionally I’d share details of our extensive travel or urban teenage freedom, but I don’t talk about it much.  My memories have faded.   I haven’t gone to a high school reunion and have only seen a handful of London friends over the years.  What memories I do have are amazing.    I’ve always loved London.  This weekend, I was reminded why.

From the moment I arrived, the details flooded through me like a song I knew all the words too but hadn’t heard in a long time –  I just started singing.   I knew the names of the tube lines, neighborhoods and bus routes.  I walked from our the Hampstead tube stop to our apartment on Chesterford Gardens without a google map.  It was all so emotional!  Sadie looked at me when I saw our apartment for the first time, “Mom, you are crying.”  She was right.

But I am ahead of myself.   Let me back up.  We arrived into Heathrow late Friday night.   When we went through passport control, the officer asked us, “What brings you to London?”  I responded “Harry Potter.”   Sadie beamed.  This trip was her birthday gift but of  course I wanted to visit while we were in Europe.  Leaving Heathrow, we took the fifteen minute Heathrow express straight to Paddington Station.  I airbnb’d a shoe-box sized flat near Lancaster Gate which was walking distance from Paddington.  Brewster immediately took charge of the google map and we arrived in no time.  We marveled at all the cars driving on the opposite side of the road. We needed to take extra caution crossing the street.  Fortunately, London is prepared.  When you look down at a crosswalk, “Look Left/Right” is painted on the street.

Saturday morning, I left before the kids were out of bed.  I was amped!  I walked straight to the Lancester tube stop a few blocks away to buy travel cards.  I was grateful that there was a London Transportation employee standing next to the machine.  He assisted (in English!) in buying prepaid Oyster cards.  Without a language barrier,  London is so easy.

With Oyster cards in hand, I crossed Bayswater Street to Kensington Gardens.  I walked around Round Pond past the Italian fountains, birds and sculptures. 

There were hundreds of people enjoying the garden.   I didn’t appreciate the massive gardens when I was in high school, but I do now!

I returned to the apartment filled with excitement for the day ahead.  We made a plan to start at Westminster.  We decided to take the bus rather than the tube.  We rode on the top of the bus so we could see the passing sites:  Hyde Park, Marble Arch, Buckingham Palace.  Our energy was high!  We hopped of the bus at Westminster Abbey.  Big Ben was under construction, but the kids didn’t seem to care.  We walked across Westminster Bridge to the South Bank and looked back over the Thames to Parliament. The bridge was packed, packed, packed with people. I don’t think the kids had ever been around so many people.  There was a popular gambling game that stopped pedestrian traffic.  People bet on which cup covered a ball.  At one point, Brewster said, “Mom, that guy just bet 1000 pounds”.  No wonder there was a crowd.

On the other side of the bridge was the London Eye, Europe’s tallest ferris wheel.  I didn’t remember it from living there and then I heard it opened in 1999 so I felt better about my foggy memory.  The kids really wanted to ride it and I thought, why not??  We bought tickets and upgraded to the Fast track which was well worth it to skip the enormous lines.   We boarded the glass oval car and started to climb above the city.  It was an amazing 45 minute ride.   We could see into the Palace, views of St Pauls and a 360 degree of the extensive city.  Our cheeks hurt from smiling.

From there, we walked to Trafalgar Square, Leister Square, Chinatown and Convent Garden.  We had heard that London took Christmas seriously and I didn’t know what that meant until we were there.  Lights were strung everywhere often canopying the street.  We ran into a Santa pub crawl.  I cracked up at the silliness.   Street performers and buskers lined every corner.  London was alive!

We stopped for a late lunch at a Street Taqueria in Convent Garden which hit the spot!  We were exhausted and happy to escape the rain.   After lunch, we took the tube to Kings Cross to see the 9 3/4 platform from the Harry Potter story . There were with no less than twenty thousand other people on the tube.  Matt would hate this, I thought. but the tube took us where we needed to go and I didn’t mind being toe to toe with such an international crowd. After Kings Cross we headed home.

Saturday night, we explored the Christmas light displays on Oxford and Regent Street by bus.  At Oxford Circus, we hopped out and Brewster had fun shooting the lights with his camera.  The twinkle, bustle and Christmas vibe was omnipresent.  We strolled home via a Clair’s-Boutique type store called Accessorize and a three story Nike store which later Brewster told me was the largest in Europe.  We split up at one point and I received this text from Brewster: “I literally love this place.  I’m walking on a dream.”

We slept soundly that night.  Sunday morning, Sadie and I took the tube to Green Park and walked to Buckingham Palace to watch the Changing of the Guards.  Brewster declined the invitation and opted to explore Hyde Park with his camera.    We arrived at the palace about 9:30 thinking the program started at 10am.  We scored a front row spot in front of the Palace.  We waited and waited.  Maybe it started at 11am??  It didn’t matter because when we looked around we could not believe how many people had filled in and how lucky we were to be right up front.  Our patience paid off to witness the pomp and circumstance so close.  We were delighted to see and hear the guards.   When the marching band started playing, Sadie said, “Wait.  I know this one.  It’s Thriller.” We laughed.  They continued to play some more traditional English songs and completed their set with another contemporary hit “Shut up and Dance”.

We hustled back to the tube station and texted Brewster to meet us at Lancester Gate tube.  From there we headed up to Hampstead to see where I lived in high school.  My heart was pounding as we walked out of the station.  “Do you recognize anything Mom?”  Brewster was sincerely interested.  “Yes and no”.  It looked familiar but all the stores were different (I think) We stopped on the high street for a coffee and bite to eat at a traditional English tea house.  After, we found our way to Chesterford Gardens.  After lingering at our red apartment building for a few minutes, we walked down to Finchley road and hopped on a 113 bus which I took everyday to High School.  We exited at St. John’s wood and I showed them ASL.  It has been renovated over the years, but it was still cool to see.

We walked past Abbey Road, the iconic zebra crossing on the Beatle’s Album cover and then down the road to my friend Polly Farmer’s house in Maida Vale.  Polly is one of the few friends I have kept in touch with from High School and I hadn’t seen her since her graduation (she was a year older than me)  She is back in London and works at ASL in development.   I was excited to swing by,  reconnect and give her a hug.  It was WILD!  Seeing her after all these years.  We laughed: “OK, who are you??  Where did you go to college and how did you get back here?” No time had past.   We have a friendship which has not gone away, just paused.  Even Brewster and Sadie enjoyed meeting her.  After, they had a lot of questions about my high school years.  They both know my dear friend Rhodie from London, but she’s pretty much it.  We had fun talking about when I was a teen.

London was dark by 4:30pm which made looking at Christmas lights accessible in the early evening.  We took the tube to Knightsbridge and spent an hour in Harrods.   The window displays were gorgeous and we had fun looking at the “SuperBrands” like Gucci, Prada, Dior, Balenciga and especially the fancy people buying them.

Just about 6pm, we walked to Hyde Park Corner to the Hard Rock Cafe.  We used to go there with our American visitors back in the ’90s and I always loved it. It was a Rock and Roll Museum! I walked around Sunday night looking at the displays.  They have paraphernalia from the best: Beatles, Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, The Who, Eric Clapton, Elton John and on and on.  Sadie was taking her time eating and Brewster was ready to leave so he walked home through Hyde Park and took the tube from Marble Arch.  It made me a little nervous, but then realized he is nearly the age I was when I lived there.   I was out at night all the time.  Brewster appreciated the independence.  I was happy to received the text that he arrived home and realized that my parents didn’t even have that reassurance.  Times have changed.  With Brewster gone, I talked Sadie going into “The Vault” next door which was a museum filled with more rock and roll gems.  We too walked through Hyde Park, past the Winter Wonderland Carnival, holding hands all the way home.

Monday morning, I took the tube to St. John’s Wood for a quick tour of ASL. The kids slept in.  They were exhausted!   It was nice to see Polly again and to peek inside the school.  I walked through Little Venice to Paddington and back to our flat.  We packed up and headed up to Watford Junction for…..(drum roll) HARRY POTTER!

The Harry Potter Warner Brothers Tour has a reputation for being excellent and it lived up to it.  We arrived early so we browsed in the extensive gift shop. Sadie wanted everything (at least everything HufflePuff, which is her house) but settled on an iron patch and Ginny Weasley’s wand.  She even talked me into buying her brother a wand for ultimate dueling.

Our tour was at 3:30 and we were there for hours.  Sadie was a little golden snitch fluttering around from display to display soaking it all in.  I was happy to listen to the audio tour and hear about the behind the scenes of the ten years of making the eight movies.  Every single exhibit was authentic:  costumes, makeup, props (thousands and thousands of them) sets, potions, etc.  They truly shared the magic of the movies.  It was a dream come true for Sadie.  Brewster and I had fun too!  After the tour, we took the train, tube, Heathrow Express and hotel shuttle back to our room where we slept for the night.  Our flight to France left at 7:25am Tuesday morning.  Needless to say, we arrived home exhausted but so filled with love for London, lights, magic and travel.