I went to see Les Misérables at Châtelet on Saturday. While in Barcelona, I began checking for tickets. It seemed like a lost cause. Then, there it was. Center orchestra. One, lonely seat for the Saturday matinee. I grabbed it and the show did not disappoint! The audience whole-heartedly agreed. I don’t think I have ever heard an ovation like the one at the end of that performance. The staging was spectacular, as were all the performances. The cast seemed surprised by the audience reaction, which made me wonder if I happened on a particularly good day. I may try to go and see it again. I’m seeing Hello, Dolly! at the Lido on Wednesday with Alex, so it may be too much to ask for!

One of the moments at the performance brought me back to Barcelona. I mentioned I was going to a performance at Palau de la Música Catalana, which was wonderful. Le Concert d’Astrée Emmanuelle Haïm presented an evening of Händel and Bach. It was an amazing performance in a glorious space. As I watched Ms. Haïm’s auburn hair flow as she conducted, couldn’t help think of two important collaborators in my life. One at the Atlas in DC, the other at the Bankhead in Livermore. And they happened to be friends. Vicki Gau and Lara Webber, two passionate musicians who led volunteer orchestras to bring world class music to their communities. During the second act of Les Mis, at the wedding, Thénardier instructs the orchestra to play by shouting, “maestro!” He is corrected by one of the guests – “maestra!” And the orchestra and Music Director, Alexandra Cravero, were revealed upstage. The audience responded so enthusiastically I wondered if the show would be able to continue. Imagine a world where a female Music Director is just normal!

Speaking of blasts from the past, as I made my way to my seat for Les Mis, I recognized a face I knew. Daniel McLaughlin, a student from Georgetown Law School where I had directed some G&S many years ago. He was there with his wife and son to see the show, and has been living in Paris for twenty years. Hopefully we will catch up over drinks. I would say it is weird, but another time at the Châtelet at a production of The King & I, I saw an old colleague across the lobby, but wasn’t able to catch him.

On my last day in Barcelona, I finally made my way to Sagrada Familia. After wandering through the Christmas market in the park across the street, I sprang for a ticket that included a trip up the Passion Tower. It is now official – I’m afraid of heights. The interior was beautiful and lighter than I expected, but looking out from top of that tower made my knees weak. And, I had to climb down what seemed like an endless spiral staircase.

When I got back to my hotel room, the front desk offered me a discount at the restaurant, and since it was raining and my last night, I accepted. Beautiful dinner, and I still can’t believe how much less expensive eating is here than in CA. The next day was the train to Paris.

A lot of Spain to catch up on. Cadiz, Málaga and Barcelona (of course). David and I had visited Cadiz on one of our favorite cruises. I decided to take a tour to Jerez de la Frontera and visit Gonzalez Byass, home of Tio Pepe. Beautiful town and loved visiting the winery. I particularly liked looking at the signatures and drawings on the barrels from visitors of note. Liz Taylor and Mike Todd, Stephen Spielberg and Amy Irving, Chelsea Clinton, Orson Wells, Jean Cocteau, and some British royals. Afterwards, I was looking at the pictures and on one of the barrels grouped with the royals I was trying to decipher the signature. Soraya Esfandiary, the second wife of the Shah of Iran (thank you internet). She visited on the day I was born. I think the wine has aged enough.

They were busy when we visited getting ready for a Christmas party and a big wedding. After Cadiz, we were off to Málaga. After being pretty chilly in Jerez, I prepared for Málaga by dressing more warmly. Of course it wasn’t as cold, being on the Mediterranean as opposed to the Atlantic coast, so I sweated. A lovely city, and as we were wandering, I noticed ads for a production of Gypsy. Directed by Antonio Banderas. I love that he has a theatre company in Málaga that does Spanish translations of American musicals. I always like to see musicals in different languages. David and I once saw Man of La Mancha in Madrid in Spanish. An incredible production. Although, my all time favorite was Grease in Prague. Now if I can snag a ticket to Les Misérables in Paris!

What can I say about Barcelona? All the cities in Spain have been lit up for the holidays. The weather has been wetter than I’d like, but, aside from last night, I avoided getting wet. The one time I leave the umbrella in the room, I get drenched. It was after a nice evening of tapas at Tapas 24, so I won’t complain. My hotel is in the Gothic Quarter, so I’m just wandering the streets and alleys. Graffiti and wall art are everywhere.

I visited two museums, so far. MOCO and The Picasso Museum, and both are worth a visit. MOCO is the Modern and Contemporary art and Picasso is, well, Picasso. MOCO has some really interesting pieces. I loved seeing one of Keith Haring’s subway drawings that had been torn from the subway wall. I remember seeing them for the first time on the subways in NY in the 80’s. I also remember seeing him in the halls of SVA in ‘79-‘80 and knowing he was going to do something interesting.

The Picasso museum had a special exhibit of works by Catalan artists working in Paris.

Tonight I have a ticket to a concert at Palau de la Música Catalana. An evening of Handel and Bach in an art nouveau masterpiece. I’m excited.

Casablanca. I know, it wasn’t actually a musical, but apparently, in the 1960’s, it almost was. I had a day in the city, and glad that I visited. Here we are, again, with fascism on the rise, but without Bogie and Bergman to help. I’d take Claude Raines or Peter Lorre at this point.

Much nicer day in Tangier today. Took a walking tour of the Kasbah and the Medina. Casablanca has newer buildings, and you see areas that are being cleared for new construction. After all, Rick’s Cafe Americain opened in 2004. The mosque was beautiful, and the architecture of some government buildings was distinctive. Otherwise, it’s a big, noisy and dirty city. My throat is still a bit sore from the pollution. Tangier has more of a sense of history and life (and less traffic).

In both Casablanca and Tangier, we were given time to shop. Haggling was expected and on the streets, men selling leather, silver and other wares, could be quite aggressive. I found it funny that whenever I was near a woman about my age, the hawkers would ask if they were my wife. They would leave me in peace when I would answer no. They figured if I wasn’t buying something for a woman, I wasn’t going to buy anything. It made resisting temptation to spend easier.

We ended our visit with tea at a lovely hotel in the middle of the Medina. Palais Zahia was lovely, and looks like a nice place to stay in Tangier with a great location. I have been so lucky with the weather – not too hot or cool, and no rain. Apparently, according to Mohamed, our guide, it’s a problem. They need rain.

It’s been a few days, and had great visits to the Canary Islands. First, Lanzarote. Volcanic and pretty dry and desolate, but beautiful. Visited sites designed and built by César Manrique. First, Mirador del Rio, a spot overlooking the water separating Lanzarote from la Graciosa, then Jameos del Agua, a series of underground tunnels created by lava flows, and finally, Jardin de Cactus (Cactus Garden). All incredible spaces.

The next stop was Grand Canaria, and I went on a group hike through one of the ravines. We visited the towns of Moya and Firgas. Really wonderful to get out in nature. Oddly, I kept looking for wildlife, but there isn’t much here, except the spiders. Lots of webs.

Last stop was in Tenerife, where we drove up and up and up some more to the caldera high above the clouds. A geologist’s dreamscape. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I didn’t dress for the cold. It was pretty chilly and, while there wasn’t any snow, it is obvious that they expect it.

On the tour in Tenerife, I was in a car with a woman who looked exactly like my grandmother. I decided not to say anything to her. I know I wouldn’t want to hear from a 64 year old how I look like his grandmother. It might be where my head is, but I have been seeing lots of faces from my past on this cruise.

I moved to an English speaking table for dinner, and lucked out. Two very nice couples, one from New Zealand and the other from Canada.

It’s always a roll of the dice, and as with life and chocolates, you never know what you get. I went to a chef’s table, and there were four couples – Ireland, Australia, Canada and Florida. Florida was a bad roll. Fortunately, they only skirted politics, but they made it clear where they stood. Even they understood that in international waters, they should be embarrassed. I was glad to get back to my Kiwis and Canadians.

Well, not really free. At the moment I am on a cruise ship about to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar. I left Palm Springs on Monday and spend a night in Barcelona. Visited some of the places that David and I had visited. I am spending four days in the city after the cruise before heading to Paris and Biarritz for the Holidays.

I have to say, cruising alone is taking some getting used to. There is a scene in Grace & Frankie where Jane Fonda loses it, because a cashier ignores the older women to help a young attractive woman. I am finding it is the same for an older man. On a couple occasions here on the ship, I have been waiting in a line, and I’ve been skipped right over, to help the couple behind me. Like I didn’t exist. Fortunately, in each instance, the couple has said, “This gentleman was in front of us.” Weird.

I was seated at dinner with two couples from Barcelona. We managed with their limited English and my non existent Español. I used a bit of my French (one of the couples lived in Paris), but tomorrow, I will change my table. Not fair to them or me. Dinner shouldn’t be work.

Before dinner, I went to the LGBTQ+ gathering. A variety of nationalities. Lots of youngish lesbians traveling with their parents, which I thought was nice. At a certain point, I looked across the room, and I had mistakenly ended up with the young crowd. Later in the evening, I ran into one of the Aussies at karaoke with the live house band. He insisted that I sing something. Fly Me to the Moon was the choice. I was OK, Dave, the now pretty plastered Aussie, thought I was fabulous (his word, not mine) and insisted I sing some Elvis with him. Can’t Help Falling In Love.

Happy Thanksgiving. Aside from a turkey option at lunch, there wasn’t much mention of the holiday on the ship. Most of the passengers are not American, which is fine by me. Although, tonight at karaoke, two, Irish or Scottish women sang a very entertaining drunken Let’s Hear it for the Boy. I was just an observer this evening. No Aussie to encourage participation.

So, it is now a year since David passed away. I thought the date November 23rd would be a tough day, but fortunately, my High School friend Anthony and my Palm Springs friend, Andy were with me. Thanksgiving was a different story. I decided to treat myself to Sushi. Again, something David and I would always do on a cruise. The Sushi was great, but halfway through my miso soup, I began bawling, and cried off and on for the rest of the evening. I’m OK and going to end now. Good Night.

I read an article this morning before leaving Paris that claims we don’t age gradually. Gracefully, as they say, but rather in two distinct drop-offs. One at 44 and one at 60. That seems right to me. I still find myself saying, “Why, all of a sudden, is everything falling apart?!” In the next four weeks I have the dentist, my eye doctor, my chiropractor, my regular doctor and a colonoscopy. Did I mention I’m falling apart? Not really. Preventative. I already fell apart.

I am not zooming anywhere, now. Just waiting at San Francisco Airport in the very crowded United Lounge. One of the benefits of age and flying a lot. It is fun to see people coming and going. People are weird.

The summer in Paris was a success, and I am on for the same next summer. I had a few bad days towards the end. Days when I wasn’t doing something and the feeling of loneliness becomes overwhelming. Fortunately Alex, Claire and the boys kept me distracted and happy the last four days.

I did a lot and saw some old friends and made some new ones. I also wrote some and thought about the past and future, both mine and the world. And yes, the meaning of life. I did visit the grave of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. But, only by chance. And I didn’t have any lipstick, so, didn’t kiss it either.

Maybe next summer, some time in Scotland and northern England. Have I mentioned that one of my ancestors, apparently, haunts a pub in Shropshire. Along with his horse. Wild Humphrey Kynaston and his trusty steed, Beelzebub. Now I know where the insane streak in my family comes from. I wouldn’t mind having a word with him.

I’ve been back for too long not to post the above. I wrote it weeks ago, while I was on my way back from Paris. Between jet lag and a little depression, it is taking me longer to get back up to speed. Just two bits of news – I am going to NY in October – specifically between October 27 and November 2. Let me know if you want to meet up in the city. I am excited that when I go back to Paris in December, Hello, Dolly! will be playing at the Lido. It will be a little like seeing the show in the Harmonia Gardens.

I’m going to write more about my impressions of this trip and also NY and back in November for a cruise.

The days in Paris are dwindling. I can tell by my pill case, which has acted as a kind of weird advent calendar. Alex and Claire get back from California tomorrow with the boys and I have only a few more things on my list that I still want to do. I’ve been having a great time, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that it would be better if I weren’t alone.

The other day, between the costume jewelry exhibit and the cooking class, I sat at an overpriced, typical cafe terrace across from the Comédie-Française to have some lunch. Great for people watching. To my left was an English gentleman, who spent most of his time on his phone and two tables to my right were two women from LA. How did I know that? One of them was telling the other about how her boyfriend accused her of cheating because some guy she knew from years ago sent her a message on Snapchat and then she found out that he was actually cheating on her. If she hadn’t said that she was from LA, I would have guessed. A cheap version of a Kardashian with competing designer logos.

At some point, another American woman sits at the table next to me. She ordered an omelet and toast. It took a moment for the waiter to understand the toast part. We both had our lunches (I had a croqué monsieur). The English guy left followed by the LA ladies, and the woman next to me asked where I was from. I said California, and she, with a sense of relief, said, “an American”. This was her first trip to Paris. We were about the same age, and we had a lovely conversation.

She was from Toledo and had lots of questions once she found out I had been here before. First, the croqué monsieur. I said, it’s a grilled cheese with ham. If you want an egg on top, croqué madame. She was worried about what to wear and asked how you could tell if someone was French. I told her you can’t, but if they looked like they knew where they were going, they were probably French. As far as clothes, they dress for comfort, although, they do have a certain sense of style.

She was traveling with her niece and family. My guess is she was acting as a kind of chaperone/babysitter for the children. They just arrived and the family were having lunch somewhere more French nearby, and she wanted something simple rather than what they were having. We talked about escargot, and she was having none of it. I told her it’s all about the sauce. Then a very well dressed man walked by, smoking, and we both agreed, he was French. We were probably wrong.

She then shared that her boyfriend had died in December, and the trip was a way for her to help get away from her grief. We shared stories – David’s stroke and passing, her boyfriend’s cancer, we both shed some tears. She was impressed when I told her I had to run to a cooking class, we hugged and said goodbye. She was a hugger, and I appreciated that. Thank you Susan VanPelt from Toledo.

Today I went to the Foundation Louis Vuitton to see exhibits of works by Henri Matisse and Ellsworth Kelly. Both exhibits were exceptional. David and I went last November to see the Mark Rothko exhibit, but I hadn’t really seen the building. Lots of stairs, and it was cold and rainy last time. A Frank Gehry building, which was beautiful. I especially loved the auditorium. I would have loved to have seen it in action, and the Kelly commissions that were in the space made it all the more special. Next time, I’ll go for a concert. I resisted buying the Palm Springs paper toy book. I’ll be home soon enough.

Hello, Imelda! She didn’t disappoint. A very different take on Dolly. More human and less caricature. Still very funny. The script was much closer to the film than the stage version, I think. She looked great in emerald green instead of the traditional scarlet coming down the stairs of the Harmonia Gardens. The only change I would have made is to replace “Love Look in My Window”, which was added for Ethel Merman, with the song added for Streisand in the movie, “Love is only Love”, otherwise it was marvelous.

Needless to say I cried. I keep telling myself I have got to get a grip, but then, I think, why bother? I just ride the waves of joy and despair and hopefully come out the other side stronger and maybe a little wiser.

I am again whizzing through the English countryside on my way to the Chunnel and Paris. Before boarding the plane, I dropped my bag off at St. Pancras and headed over to Lightroom, near the station. Jon Kissack had recommended Moonwalkers, a presentation that Tom Hanks helped write and narrated about the lunar landings in the 60’s and 70’s. Once again I found myself weeping almost immediately. The clips of Kennedy talking about why we were attempting to go to the moon. And think, there are lunatics out there who think it didn’t happen and another one who thinks we aren’t capable of doing it again without him.

I made it back to Paris in no time at all. It really is amazing – in under three hours from London to Montparnasse. The trip across Paris was also quick!

Well, that was days ago and aside from sleep, I’ve been busy. Went today to an exhibit of Costume Jewelry from the Comédie Française. Small but beautiful. Followed by a cooking class at Hôtel de la Marine with Le Cordon Bleu. Small group and lots of fun. Can’t say I learned anything new – David and I made a similar recipe at the Culinary Institute of America in Napa twelve years ago.

I started off my stay in London with a stroll down Piccadilly and through Green Park, then back down the mall. I also walked down Jermyn Street and resisted the urge to buy something from one of the many men’s shops there. I also discovered that the shop that had my favorite cologne had closed – Czech & Speake. I thought, perhaps a victim of covid, but they can be found on the internet.

My hotel is at Leicester Square, which is a bit like staying on Times Square, so getting as far away as possible was my intention. As I walked back, there was an area blocked off by the police across from the hotel. I later found out two people had been stabbed there. They survived

Had a delightful dinner with Jon Kissack and his partner,
Victor. Ate at Lima in Fitzrovia. Food was great and company even better. I arrived a little early, and wandered around the neighborhood. I saw a barbershop and needed a haircut, so made plans to go back in the morning. Ben & Co – Old School Barber Shop – home of Turkish barbering. I didn’t know what that was, but though, why not!

After breakfast in the morning, I wandered up to the barbershop, and the barber was waiting for me. Got a great haircut and found out what Turkish barbering was. On top of the haircut, I got my nose hairs waxed (ouch), a hot towel (ahhh) and he singed the hairs on my ears. When he lit the little torch, I was slightly concerned, but I figured, he’s a professional. It is unpleasant to realize, but as you age, hairs grow in places it hadn’t before. And, sometimes, stops growing where it used to. All for £42! I told him that he wasn’t charging enough.

I wandered some more. Through Covent Garden and along the Strand and had to grab lunch before making it to the theatre. I was trying to figure out what to have and spotted a place that said they were famous for their meat pies, and I thought, barber and meat pies, what could be better! The Wellington. I was a bit concerned when I went in and it was just me and the waiter. I looked at the menu and settled on the Pulled Lamb Shank Shepherd’s Pie and a beer. Followed by the Apple and Blackberry Crumble with custard. I figured I’d walk it off. Great choices.

Then it was time to go to the Barbican for the matinee of Kiss Me, Kate. It was a big, brassy production of a big, brassy musical starring Adrian Dunbar and Stephanie J. Block. And a matinee audience that wasn’t acting like a matinee audience. A great afternoon. As luck would have it, I knew one of the producing partners of Revolution Stage Co. in Palm Springs, Gary Powers, would also be at this performance, and we went back to the West End for a bite to eat.

Then it was off to see The Baker’s Wife at Menier Chocolate Factory. I was curious to see this theatre and a show I had never seen before. It was kind of an antidote to Kate. Small, intimate and just lovely. All the performers were amazing. In their small venue, they created a small French village, complete with old men playing pétanque. Before the show, audience members were invited to play along with the old men. I sat at one of the cafe tables with a trio of Brits, one of whom was concerned that he had heard there was audience participation. I said they were safe because they were on the far side of the table. I also figured it was just this pre-show bit.

As the show came to a close, I was wiping my eyes (yes, I was crying) and the actor playing the priest came straight for me with his hand outstretched and I went to shake it, but he pulled me up and as the rest of the cast was waltzing around the stage, I found myself dancing with a priest and bawling. Not sure if I was what he anticipated, but it was one of those magical moments in the theatre. I was still weeping as I walked back to the underground.

Now some breakfast and Hello, Dolly! Yes, I will probably cry too.

I arrived in London today for a three night visit. Very excited about the theatre, but it is hot! Better to be here at 90 degrees than in Paris at 94, I suppose. The temperature drops tomorrow, so we just need to get through today. It’s too darn hot! And I’m seeing the matinee tomorrow.

The Olympics ended with a bang for me! On Friday I went to the women’s basketball semi-final – USA vs Australia. And yesterday was the final game – France vs USA. As I said before, I figured it was a win/win and I wouldn’t care who got the gold. Boy was I wrong. From the moment I sat down, I was Team USA all the way. This game was so exciting and I found myself wringing my hands so hard, I thought I would brake my fingers.

Added to the excitement of the game itself, I was sitting feet from LeBron James, fresh off his Olympic gold medal. My seat was on the aisle, and it was a little irritating that people thought it was OK to stand in the aisle, block our view and try to get an autograph. Finally, the women sitting in front of me asked security to step in and ask them to go back to their seats so we could all enjoy the game. I did have to laugh at the guy who was pushing his eight year old forward to get his jersey signed for him. Didn’t work.

Not sure how I lucked out with my seats for both games. The semi-final, I was three rows behind the USA team, which was fun to see during time outs, and the final was two rows back from the floor. With or without the great seats, it was the one of the most memorable events in my life. So glad I booked tickets as soon as they went on sale. That and I paid for them.

In the evening, I went to my friend Hari’s to watch the closing ceremony. Just like the opening ceremony, the best part was seeing the athletes enter. Then the entertainment began. Boy am I old. I just kept asking, who are these people? Hari is younger, and even he had to look it up on his phone. Snoop Dogg was about it for me. I have never been a Tom Cruise fan but I thought that entrance was a snooze fest. Not to mention that he is showing his age (finally). I kept thinking, there’s something wrong. Why is he tugging at his leg? Why is he coming down so slowly? Granted, it’s not something that I would do, but I’m not making the money he is (and nobody asked me). And at the opposite end, Celine Dion in that dress. In the rain. With that song. And that voice. That was something to behold. And no wires.

One last gripe, if I may. Snoop Dogg. I heard some complaints on social media – what does he have to do with sports? LA doesn’t need to come up with a mascot for 2028 – he is the best cheerleader LA and the USA could have. Such joy and more importantly, he was all about bringing the attention back to the athletes. I’ll stop now.

Yesterday I spent the most delightful day with Richard Denoix and Lenore Colarusso in their French hometown of Besançon. The town was beautiful and I was so happy to reconnect with them. It dawned on me this morning that maybe it isn’t a coincidence that I am seeing “The Baker’s Wife” in London next week, the story of a French village, their baker and his wife. They owned the French bakery in Livermore, and almost every morning I would stop by for coffee, croissant and chat with Lenore, the baker’s wife, as well as other residents of the town. Richard was usually busy. Baking.

Near where this picture was taken, is a monument to the Americans who liberated the city from the Nazis in September 1944. Richard talked about meeting John Shirley, former mayor of Livermore, and finding out that he was part of the 3rd infantry that liberated his hometown. Dr. Shirley was one of the kindest people I have ever met, and I loved seeing him at the Bankhead and running into him around town or at the bakery.

John passed away in 2021 at 97, and the ultra right wing that is on the rise in the world today is partly because we are loosing this important link with our history. I didn’t live through the depression and WWII, but my parents did, and shared their stories. I understand the perils and how important it is to fight these evil tendencies from raising their ugly heads. I hope Americans stand up again to defeat hate in 2024 like John Shirley did in 1944.

Richard and I also toured the Cathédral Saint-Jean, the seat of the Archbishop of Besançon. The music director was practicing the organ, which was an added treat for me. Richard is now a Deacon and they are both devout Catholics. We talked about how, as a Catholic, he is a minority in the US. In another time, we could not have been friends. If you know me, I am a devout Atheist, but our views are very much the same – love and respect your neighbors and treat them the way you want to be treated, whether you like them or not. No exceptions. That and forgive people. Lots of devout folks have forgotten that. A beautiful day with beautiful people. I’ll be back!

On Monday, I took one of my favorite walks in the Jardin du Luxembourg. One of the regular sights is the firemen on their run through the park, but on this day they were standing in line to have their picture taken with the Olympic sign. It has been fun to see how everyday Parisians are reacting to the games. Not their usual blasé facade.

I also bought a ticket to enter the Parc Urbain at the Place de la Concorde, set up for the urban sports of BMX, breaking and 3×3 basketball. So much fun! I could have done without the lines, but they moved quickly. I even battled the crowds at the merchandise store. And when I say battle, I mean it. I was able to snag the last of a particular tee shirt that I was wanting.

Yesterday I went on a walking tour that was arranged by Vicky, a colleague of Claire and Alex. Along with her husband, his sister and her husband and their four teenage children. The tour was given by Dr. Kelly Spearman, and she was able to deliver the history of the area surrounding Les Halles with such engaging stories. She brought everyone into history by giving us characters. I was Napoleon at one point.

We had lunch afterwards, which was also delightful. Food and company. I may have talked too much, but I was the new face, I suppose. I was worried that I would be a fifth wheel, but never felt that way. I was an honorary member of their band.

After we parted, I headed to see if I could find a shop that I had walked past on one of my days of wandering. There was a pin that I wanted to buy. Sometimes I think I am trying to single-handedly keep small shops (and some big ones) afloat. I had an idea where it was, but not sure, and was delighted to find it relatively quickly. It was pretty hot. The shop was there, the pin had not been sold and it was open! It was closed on the day I walked by weeks ago.

I have been writing this for days now, and again I am on a train on my way to visit two friends from my Livermore days. Richard and Lenore Denoix – former owners of Casse-Croûtes Bakery, my favorite morning stop on the way to the Bankhead. They are in Besançon for the summer, and I’m excited to visit. Last night I had dinner with a friend from even further back – Murielle Rifkiss from my days at Edwards & Edwards. We had some great food and even better conversation. I love to be around her because I get to practice my French listening skills.

I had made reservations at a restaurant the we had gone to the last time we ate together in December. Got an email confirmation, but when I showed up, they were closed. Not sure what happened there, but Murielle had warned me to call to make sure they were open – August in Paris. I thought that since they confirmed by email, we would be OK. We strolled up to the restaurant where we had lunch after the walking tour – La Grille on rue Montorgueil. They were able to accommodate us, and we had a great meal. I did receive an email this morning asking if we enjoyed dinner at the restaurant that was closed.

In other news, tomorrow I have my first Olympic event – the women’s basketball semi-final. There are two games, and I opted for the earlier one. I’m getting to the age where an event starting at 21:00 is a little too late for me. I didn’t know who would be playing when I booked the ticket, and had been watching the brackets I was worried that it would be USA vs France, which would be difficult. Who to cheer for? On the train home last night, I looked and I am seeing USA vs Australia. Much easier (sorry Simon). I also have a ticket for the final, and hopefully France will win against Belgium and then the final could be USA vs France, which would be easier. I won’t really care who wins. A real win/win situation. I am very excited. More excited than I thought I would be. I may have to stitch a French flag to an American flag.

Yesterday, as I was wandering around Paris, I ran into some road blocks for the Olympics. It turns out it was a women’s cycling event, and I caught a little bit of it. It is the prize I get for walking so much. I do love meandering through the streets.

Still having a great stay here, and we had a few hot days, but nothing like what they are having back home in the desert. It is nice to be in Paris during the Olympics, and this week I actually have tickets to events. Today I am going to the Parc Urbain at the Place de la Concorde. I’m not sure what will be going on, but I wanted to see what they have done with the place. Then on Thursday and Sunday I have a tickets to the women’s basketball semi-final and the final. Here are some pictures of my wanderings.

There seems to be a theme, or at least a time when I can write. On the train back to Paris from Nice, speeding past Lyon. David and I often talked about spending more time in or around Nice. And I still understand why. I went to Nice to meet up with an old classmate of mine from my year in Malaysia. It was great to spend time with Simon and catch up. It has been over twenty years since we saw each other. He is now living in Perth, Australia.

I spent the days at the beach across the street from the hotel. West End Hotel on the Promenade Anglais. Apparently the oldest resort hotel in Nice. Very Anglais, if you know what I mean. Stately, but has seen better days – although the prices don’t reflect that. It was perfect. The A/C was great, which was delightful after a hot day at the beach or walking. The Mediterranean was also refreshing and cool.

The waiters at the beach were great, and it was good practice speaking French. They both told me (liars!) that my French was fine. I did find that people in Nice were much more encouraging. In Paris, I find that as soon as I start speaking in French, they know I’m Americain and want to speak English. I think it is only partly because my French is painful to their ears. Mostly, they just want to be kind.

Les Jeux Olympiques! Ooh la la. On Friday evening, I was invited to dinner with the couple that Simon is staying with – Abdul and Barry. Moroccan and French. During dinner we were half watching as the countries floated down the Seine. My hosts were not thrilled about France hosting the Olympics, but by the time I left, they were watching intently. Simon walked me part way back down the Promenade, and I was back in my very cool room to catch the end of the opening ceremony.

I was a little jealous not to be in Paris, but honestly, it seemed a better option to be dry in Nice watching, and seeing everything. I missed a lot on the way back to the hotel, but picked up bits and pieces on social media. When I turned on the TV, the final legs of the flame relay were underway. We knew Celine Dion was going to be the finale, and when she started, I began to ugly cry. Not because it was Celine, I like her, but am not going to cry over it. Hymn to Love was the song David and I chose for our wedding music. Cyndi Lauper’s version.

I just deleted a whole, too long, rant about social media and some of the reactions I read – both from the left and the right. You’re welcome. Suffice to say, social media has given voice to too many morons with opinions and no self awareness.

I thought Paris and France showed the world, both with the recent election and this ceremony, that they reject isolationism. One thing that the French do well, is remind you what their ideals are. It is carved in stone everywhere – Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité. An America shares these ideals, even if we don’t always live up to them. Hopefully we will remember them in November.

Here are some pictures of Nice. Simon and I also attended a concert at Église Saint-François-de-Paule. Part of L’Oiseau Bleu Festival of Musique Classique. I put a little clip below. Very nice and thankfully there was a fan on the seat. It was hot.

At this moment, I am zooming through Belgium on my way to Amsterdam for the weekend. I have been in Paris for over two weeks and have two weeks of French classes under my belt. Ask me how my French is. Je suis désolé. Mon française n’est pas bon. At least I can say that. And I say it often.

Paris is busy and gearing up for the Olympics. I’ll pick this thought up later.

We were zooming along, then stopped for a while, then went slowly for a little while and another stop. Then start. Then, we were deposited in Rotterdam to make our way to another train that would deposit us in Amsterdam. Late, but all in one piece. I hope.

Amsterdam. Well, it’s been a night. Pour a drink, because I’m going to unload. A friend of mine in Palm Springs had recommended a particular brand of ‘Shroom (I think that’s what the kids call them).

Anyway, I bought what I was told and took what I was advised would be good. Well, I took less, because, well, I’m kind of a Mr. Wilson. We will get more into the Mr. Magoo aspect of the evening later. So, I’m a good boy and did as I was told. I waited round for a while. I felt kind of like I had just eaten potting soil. Waited. Nothing. A little nausea. Meh.

So I go on the wine and cheese canal cruise that I booked ahead of time. Mr. Wilson. I, of course, make friends with the two nice old ladies from Australia. I’m feeling in my element. A nice old lady who wants to chat about her trip so far and how she is going back to Scotland to visit family. We really had a great conversation about geneology and shared stories of our family journey from Scotland to Australia and the US. I think I may have to take that cruise again, because I think I spent all the time chatting with this lady. I don’t think we ever exchanged names. Weird. Very Merchant/Ivory.

Anyway, on with the evening. We drank and exchanged stories. And I watched. I really do wonder what people think when I sit and just watch. Across from me on the boat were four twenty something’s from the best schools. I don’t mean that as a put-down, just a description. Very “Clueless”. Three girls and the boy. The girls were getting all the great light for pics, and at one point, I catch the eye of the guy who has been asked to slide down the bench, so to be out of the picture, and I laugh. He says, “They won’t let me in the picture because I don’t wear a shirt like yours.” Not mean, just, that’s the reason. I said, “Oh, don’t worry. They’d photoshop you out anyway.” I thought that was too mean, so I just added “You be you”. What a dork.

I say my good nights, tip the crew and wend my way back to the hotel. The hotel is right in the middle of everything. Well, I don’t know where everything is, but it’s like living in Times Square. Oh, and on the cruise, the swimming and just having a grand old time all over the city. I do highly recommend the canal cruise. I really need to speed things up here, you might notice, I am meandering. I’ll stop. Although, the evening did have a lot of meandering.

So, I get back to the hotel room. I feel exhausted, but really shouldn’t. The cruise was a short walk from the hotel. I lay down and close my eyes. And in about a second the entire evening, start to finish, came rushing back in an extraordinary blur. The city was so dazzling in that flash, that I had to go out. So I wandered. The streets and alleys and canals of Amsterdam (I think I walked past the Anne Frank house. I’ll have to go back). I was heading back to the hotel, very sweaty, but happy, and I thought, why not stop at one of the Coffeehouses and get high. That’s a great idea, said I. In the end, it was.

So, there was a place I had seen that looked, mellow, not on a main drag. Out of the way. I was thinking as I was wandering how much Amsterdam reminds me of the East Village in the early days. I don’t mean this in a bad way, but I never felt like I belonged in the East Village. I feel like an alien here and of course I’m wondering what the hell are they seeing.

I get to the place I saw, I go in, and am greeted at the counter by a lovely woman. “May I help you?” She, says. I say, “Yes” and that would have been fine, but I continued to explain that I wasn’t sure how things worked here. “You can buy something and smoke it here.” she said. I said “Great, and added we just take it home in California.” Thinking I need to let her know that I’m not a novice. And I’m not, I’m just an idiot.

We decided an a hybrid pre-roll and a coke. I looked thirsty. She said it put your head in a nice place. I might have made that up. She did say something about how it was pretty balanced. She offered me a lighter. I light up the pre-roll, and it becomes pretty clear to me, that I am sweating profusely. I think I may have walked a little too briskly. The two lovely ladies who run the place are being very nice. I’m sitting, well maybe not hunched, but lurking in the corner watching the world going. Sweating.

I’m smoking and thinking more and more, what the hell do they think of me? Who is this weird old sweaty guy who wandered into our shop on a Friday night. That’s not what they were thinking. She mentioned what a nice slow mellow night it has been, and I thought. They don’t think I’m a mess. Let me quit while I’m ahead. I’ll leave. What to do with the joint. Leave it, like you would a drink you don’t finish? So, I asked. Well, apparently not. Next time I’ll have to bring another to go container. I then proceeded to put the tip I wanted to leave in a Kleenex box. Then, attempted two other containers, that were not for tips. Candies and an empty mug. Mr. Magoo.

I made it home in one piece. Did I say I was staying in Times Square? I laid down, my mind went all over the place and I thought, let me write some of it down. It was a lot, and if you stuck it out this far, bravo. At the end of the adventure tonight, from my balcony, this photo.

I arrived yesterday morning in Paris for the summer. Uneventful flight – no doors flying off and no crazies on the plane, except me.

After a restless night (jet lag) and a late start, I hit the pavement. Walked to Saint Germain des Prés, then on to the Jardin du Luxembourg. Had to stop at the Apple Store on the way, where the salesman asked if I knew I looked like Robert De Niro. Oui, je sais. I sat for a bit watching the men play pétanque.

The city is busy and looks great for the upcoming Olympics. I have tickets for the women’s basketball semi final and final, and bought a ticket for the Urban Park at the Place de la Concorde. Lot’s of kids in the park sailing their boats.

Boats in Jardin du Luxembourg

I still haven’t decided if my plans for the summer are the best or the worst idea I have ever had. I am signed up for intensive French classes at Alliance Française. Pray for the instructor. Aside from the Olympics and French classes, I have trips planned for Amsterdam (July 19-22), Nice (July 25-28) and London (August 12-15 – I have an extra ticket to Hello, Dolly! For the matinee on August 14). Let me know if we find ourselves in the same place. I’ve been to all of these places, but never alone. I feel a bit like Mame revisiting the places she went with Beau.

Tomorrow I go to Los Angeles to begin my trip back to NY for David’s memorials. If you don’t know the details, here they are. Please RSVP.

Sunday, February 11 from 2 – 4 PM

United Nations International School:

24-50 FDR Drive, New York, NY 10010

Monday, February 12 from 6 – 8 PM

Edmund Burke School:

4101 Connecticut Ave NW, Washington, DC 20008

short program & reception

Please RSVP by February 9 | In Memory of David Shapiro

I’m more nervous than I thought I would be. I feel like I am still taking care of David and want the events to be real celebrations. I am hearing from so many people about how much David shaped their lives. He certainly did mine. I’m not really nervous about the events. Let’s face it, they will be full of people who loved David, so it is bound to be a celebration. I’m hoping the travel gods are shining on us. I think David had a song about begging the sun to behave.

El Sol by David Shapiro. One day Alex or I will sing it for you.

So, the title of this post is a lyric from On The Twentieth Century because, after two days in LA, we get on a train to take the three night trip to New York. David and I took the train when we came to CA in 2011. I’m looking forward to the trip. We have a bedroom, which I think is larger than the room David and I had.

I’m going to sign off now. Packing, etc. I’ll try to write on the trip, if anything interesting happens.

Not sure why that last post was “unpublished” or maybe I never published it. It was from the spring.

Happy New Year from Paris!

We had a great visit to Biarritz and Pays Basques. Even made it to San Sebastián. Thanks to my hosts, I don’t think I missed a spot and did some shopping as well.

David Shapiro — February 19, 1947 – November 23, 2023

First, just to get it out of the way, if there are people who don’t know — David Shapiro passed away suddenly on Thanksgiving night. We had just returned from two wonderful weeks in Paris with Alex, Claire, Theo, and Vincent. On the Friday night before we flew home, David complained about back pain. He had had compression fractures in the past, so I wasn’t really worried. We spoke to doctors via video, and they prescribed a back brace and some pain management.

Fortunately our flights on United were flawless. We were home and I made an appointment with our doctor on Wednesday. The Doctor sent us to get x-rays of his back to confirm what was going on. While getting David from his wheelchair to the car, in the parking lot of the radiology clinic, he passed out and I lowered him to the ground. Fortunately, we were across the street from a firehouse. He was in an ambulance very quickly. I followed and we were in the ER for the remainder of the day and night. David was finally admitted to the hospital overnight. Even after the Doctor told me his back pain was kidney failure it never entered my mind that David wouldn’t be home in a few days.

He had a rough day and they were having trouble getting blood and hoping he would be able to get well enough for dialysis. Late in the day, I left him to take a nap and grab a bite to eat. I got a call at around 11pm from the hospital that there was an emergency and I should get there as soon as possible. By the time I arrived, he was gone.

I am now back in Paris with Alex, Claire and the boys.