On Thursday morning I woke up, showered and dressed and went for a walk alone.  It’s the Tony Hall in me I suppose but I love walking in new places.  I stopped at a patisserie and grabbed some things for breakfast.  The two women there didn’t speak much English and I speak no French, but they were kind and we laughed and pointed and I tried not to buy every single pastry.  I didn’t take pictures at this shop, but I did later on.  

Flowers, motorcycles and bakeries seemed to be the essence of Paris. 

I went back to the hotel, reunited with the gang and off we went on the Metro. First stop- the Louvre!

I always thought of the Louvre as a museum, but that hardly seems like an adequate label. It’s more like a fortress and I couldn’t figure out any way to get a picture that included it all.  

The structure of the buildings is in a U-shape, surrounding this courtyard, with the glass pyramid as the centerpiece.  We actually entered the Louvre from the underground because of where we got off the metro.  Our first views were of the inverted pyramid in the shopping area beneath the ground.  

Unfortunately, by the time we bought our tickets, used the loo, waited in line at security, and figured out what we wanted to see the kids attention spans were virtually gone.  

So we did a quick walk through the Italian Art on our way to see the Mona Lisa (which seemed obligatory). 

I’m not sure what the groundwork was for my emotional collapse, but standing in front of this painting I lost it. I just started weeping.  Everyone else had gone ahead to the next gallery and I just had this moment.  I am not an artist or knowledgeable about art or anything like that.  But this painting moved me. I’ll never forget it. 

By the way- the painting is by Fra Angelico (Guido de Pietro) and it was done between 1450 and 1455.  

We worked our way through the Italian Renaissance galleries, which were not only full of amazing paintings, but the building itself is art. 

It’s difficult, nigh impossible, to fully appreciate the Louvre with children, so I’m already planning a trip to Paris without them. Somehow.  Because I know I only dipped a toe in the waters and I’ll be so disappointed if I got that close and couldn’t see more.  

We left the Musee to find a place for lunch and found a really crowded but cozy cafe and ate our little hearts out.  Gordon and Julie decided to go back to the Louvre to see more, and Richard and I wanted to see Notre Dame.  

Richard and I took turns in Notre Dame.  He stayed at a nearby playground with the kids while I went through, and the I took the kids on a hunt for a public toilet while he went through.  

Just like the Eiffel Tower, the cathedral was bigger than I could have imagined it.  Unfortunately we were there too late in the afternoon to go up into the bell towers, they were already closed.  But I walked through through the main level.  I have a friend from Slovenia who is planning a pilgrimage for next summer with her mother.  She asked me if Mormons do pilgrimages and I wasn’t sure how to answer.  In my own life I have traveled with my family to visit places of historical significance in our church, and I have felt the sacred nature of those places.  I suppose that’s about the closest I’ve come to a pilgrimage, aside from periodic visits to LDS temples, where I can worship and feel close to God.  

But it was really neat for me to watch the people enter the Cathedral and see the reverence in their faces.  It was quiet in there, and it was clear that some people were feeling close to God and solemnity for the sanctity of the place.  This moved me as well.  I promise I’m not pregnant but man was I having an emotional day! 

I didn’t take any (except one) pictures inside the cathedral because there was just no way to do it justice and I wanted to just be still and respectful.  There were stained glass windows everywhere, beautiful sculptures and statues and so many candles.  It was gorgeous.  Magnificent.  Peaceful.  

After Richard had his turn to walk through we decided to walk down the river, then on to the Arc de Triomphe.  

I have to say that I was so proud of the kids, and grateful.  It was such a long day and we did so much walking.  They were pleasant and cooperative and I think they even enjoyed/appreciated it all.  

We had to wake up really early on Wednesday morning to catch our train.  We actually had to catch a train to catch our train… 

So we roused and dressed the kids, packed ourselves like mules and walked to the train station.  From there we rode into the city, made a quick transfer on the tube, and then came up above ground again at London St. Pancras International Railway Station, where the Eurostar departs for Paris.  We arrived in time thankfully, but without much to spare.  

The Eurostar blows my mind.  The route is directly from London to Paris via a massive tunnel beneath the English Channel. It travels at 186 mph, making the journey only two hours.   We ate breakfast on the train and arrived at Gare du Nord at 10:30AM. 

Per the suggestion of Tanya I asked Richard if we could get a taxi to the hotel to drop off our luggage, but being the ever frugal husband that he is, we opted for public transport.  I really don’t mind public transport, except when you’re in a country where none of your traveling party is fluent in the language, you have all your luggage, and you have four children who woke up really early, and you don’t know your way around at all.  I think by the time we arrived at the hotel I had Richard convinced a taxi might be a nice idea next time… 

We left our baggage at the hotel and decided to find a place to eat.  We chose a cafe close by and did our best to order in spite of not understanding the menu at all.  But we had our first French baguette, which Mim devoured, and I think we were all pleased with our food. 

Then we decided to just walk toward the Eiffel Tower. 

The kids found a park so Gordon and Julie offered to sit for a minute and keep an eye on them and Richard and I walked closer to the Eiffel Tower.  We had tried to book tickets online in advance to take a lift to the top, but it was all booked and we had heard that the lines were awful so we weren’t expecting to be able to do that.  But as we walked around beneath it, I told Richard I would get in line and he could go back and get his parents and the kids.  When they met back up with me we would see how far I had progressed in the line.  Our plan worked out really well, the met up with me right as I was going through security.  

Everything in Paris was bigger than I expected.  The Eiffel Tower was so huge.  Notre Dame was monumental.  The Arc de Triomphe was massive.  And the Louvre was like an entire city.  More on those later but standing beneath the Eiffel Tower I was just so amazed that something so tall could have been built so long ago.  

The photo below on the left is the view of the Champ de Mars from the first viewing deck, and then the photo on the right is the view of the Champ de Mars from the top. 

After we came down from the tower it was nearly dark and the kids were exhausted and hungry.  We got them some crepes and then loaded everyone up in a taxi and went back to the hotel.  Gordon and Julie offered to stay with the kids so Richard and I could go out to dinner and see more of the city.  

We found a nice place to eat and both tried something new- I wish I’d written down what we ate but of course I can’t remember because it was in French.  But let’s just say the French do four things really well; cheese, bread, potatoes and meat.  And dessert.  What I mean to say is that the French really have mastered the art of cooking. 

After dinner we went back to the Eiffel Tower to watch it sparkle at night.  It was so pretty.  So surreal.  

As usual, with kids it’s hard to ever see and do as much in a day as one might like to in a place like Paris.  But the fact that we consumed baguettes and crepes and went to the top of the EIffel Tower was enough to feel like a success for me.  

I have such a love-hate relationship with family pictures.  I love thinking about and preparing for them, but then I hate them while they are happening, I feel like it’s going ALL WRONG and I get disappointed about my expectations.  But then as soon as they come back to me I love them again- I love what photographers can do.  

Greenwich park is our local park, we love it and it was so beautiful this time of year.  In London you’re never more than a few hours away from rain, so it was pretty muddy and wet and we were filthy by the time we finished.  My hair doesn’t do well in humidity and I wish I’d planned better for that, but for the most part I think my kids are beautiful and my family is lovely. 

Gordon arrived exactly one week after Julie came.  The kids were on half-term holiday all week so on Monday we spent some time in the city together.  

Gordon and Julie and Cam and Eli met up with Richard late in the afternoon to visit the Churchill War Rooms and Museum while I took the littles home,  

On Tuesday Gordon and Julie ventured out to the city without us so I could get everything ready for our trip the next day. 

France!

Last night after all the kids were in bed, Richard and I were engrossed in an episode of Mr. Selfridge when Eli came downstairs to air a grievance.  Richard and I half listened and then told Eli to go back to bed.  

Eli returned a second time, desperately wanting to share the details of his argument with Cameron but I was too interested in Agnes Towler to pay any mind to my son and so I shushed him and threatened consequences if he came down again.  We heard no more from Eli.  But there must have been harsh words spoken, because this morning Eli got out of bed early, before anyone else.  (This is extremely rare for Eli. He is the child we most often have to drag out of bed.)  He wrote this note to Cameron: 

Dear, Cam
I did this to show you that I care about you.  
From Eli

I learned after the fact, that it was Eli’s intention to make amends by serving Cameron breakfast to accompany the note.  But when Cameron woke up, he was apparently so moved by the gesture that together they concocted a plan to serve breakfast to the entire family.  We were all presented with a menu, whereupon we selected our choices- you will note that the items are all “free”, and then our meal was prepared.  

It was one of those moments where my first impulse was to tell the boys that we didn’t have time for their shenanigans, I would make breakfast because I could do it faster and they could execute their plan another day.  But something (perhaps guilt from ignoring Eli the night before?) compelled me otherwise.  It made the morning more stressful, rather than less, but I’m sure you can imagine that I have no regrets.  

You have drive a fair distance out of the city to find a pumpkin patch around here.  We get a veg delivery every other week from an organic farm in the countryside and they have a fall festival that seemed like the perfect break from the city, and gave Julie a chance to see the English countryside.  

There was all sorts of fun to be had.  A live ukulele band, a giant plaster cow that you could milk, a football shoot-out, pumpkin carving, yummy soups and sausages, face painting, kids coloring, worm-digging.  It was on the cold side, so it wasn’t quite the warm fall day I had dreamed of.  But we had a good time and it’s always nice to breath some fresh air. 

Richard and I are quickly learning that these outings always take longer than we think they will.  And that is usually because of traffic.  Driving 40 miles in Idaho would take 35 minutes.  Driving 40 miles in England easily takes two hours.  So it took the better part of our Saturday, but we returned home in time to order Rox Burger and watch the pre-recorded BSU v. BYU game- which was a sweet taste of home and reminded us all of Saturday football parties with the Birds.  

Baca Bird came to visit in October.  It was a sweet reunion! She flew in on a Sunday so we took her up to Greenwich Park. 

The first week she was here the kids were still in school.  So on Monday we took Simon to Canary Wharf and met up with Richard for lunch at Wahaca.  (Mexican street food with a British twist, and sooooo tasty.) 

On Monday night Baca taught our FHE lesson and it was a really memorable experience for the kids.  She shared the story of her upbringing, the difficult moments in her life and how she gained the knowledge and strength she needed to change the course of her life for the better.  It was really powerful.  Well done Baca.  

Tuesday we went shopping on Oxford Street.  It was a little overwhelming, and we were in a bit of a hurry to meet Richard at Kensington Palace, but fortunately Julie got a second chance at Oxford Street with Gordon a week or two later. 

It was hard to really experience Kensington Palace with Simon in tow, and we were on a schedule because we had to be back in time to pick up the kids at school. But we had a fun time soaking up the glamour and glitz and we really liked the Fashion Exhibit, with several of Princess Diana’s old gowns.  

There was also a long hall with benches that had cushions of past and present Royal family members embroidered on them.  (You can see William and Kate in the photo on the right below.) 

Julie and I also did a lot of shopping at the market and shops close by where we live.  She was also able to go to Cameron and Eli’s class assemblies at their school.  Cameron’s class did a performance about the Tudor’s. Eli was a news reporter along with his best buddy Kayden, discussing Guy Fawkes and the foiled Gunpowder Plot.  Total mom fail and I didn’t get any pictures.  


Julie also helped out with my seminary class, babysat so Richard and I could go out, and did a lot of grandchild entertaining.  She got lots of bus-riding experience and walking walking walking.  We went to Borough Market, and ate fish and chips.  And this was all before Gordon came…

Disclaimer:  This is by no means a comprehensive argument in favor of universal health care.  It is just an experience, an anecdote, that has caused me to reflect and ponder the way I view healthcare and my fellow men.  

It was also so much more eloquent in my head.  Any of my family members who want to rewrite it with more articulate thoughts and a more refined vocabulary are welcome to! 
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Last night Eli woke up with an awful cough. It sounded like croup to me, and he had that scared feeling of not being able to breath normally, comfortably.  Richard and I calmed him down, debated whether or not to take him into the hospital, and eventually decided to just let him sleep and evaluate in the morning.  He fell back to sleep and didn’t wake up again until his alarm went off.  

Eli really wanted to go to school today, it was a special day and he had special plans.  There was hardly a trace of the cough that he had during the night, but Richard and I were both worried that he was contagious, or too sick for school.  So Eli and I got dressed first thing and walked around the corner and up the street to the GP office.  We walked in shortly after 8:00, I explained the situation and a Dr. called us back straight away.  She was still wearing her walking shoes and her office smelled like toast, but she was helpful and kind and thorough.  

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The thing that has caused me to reflect is that Richard and I were able to make these decisions about our child without any fears, pressures or anxiety about the cost.  This gave us a certain kind of freedom.  I also knew that if Eli was very ill, he would have access to the medication and/or treatment he needed.  We were free to proceed with providing these resources to Eli without being held hostage to cost or availability.  This gave me so much peace of mind and I was filled with gratitude.  

Back in the states Richard and I have always been blessed to have the means to provide for our children’s medical needs.  When a trip to the ER was warranted, we were able to do so.  When a specialist was required, we’ve been fortunate to be able to see one.  But I know this isn’t the case for all people, in particular all mothers.  

It would be a gross over-simplification to blame poor choices or lack of hard work for these circumstances, and often that would be altogether false.  I speak about mothers, because that is the role I play that causes me the most uneasiness, uncertainty and fear.  But I genuinely wish for every mother in the country I claim patriotism to, to have the freedom I have.  The freedom to make choices about her children’s medical care without fear, anxiety or pressure.  If I take my child to the doctor, how will I pay for it?  If he needs a prescription, what will we go without to compensate?  Must I live with the guilt of not taking my child to a doctor because I simply can’t pay?

I am willing to pay tax dollars for every mother to have that freedom. Maybe you are not, and that is your prerogative.  I grew up with conservative ideals, but the older I get and the more suffering I see, the more I find myself feeling emotionally connected to humanity around me, and morally obligated to meeting their needs.  

“‘A right faith is an excellent and valuable thing,’ wrote the early American preacher Jonathan Mayhew, ‘but it is advantageous no further than it… leads us to live an holy and godly life.’ And that means a life that earnestly engages, rather than distracts us from, our ethical obligations to each other.” 
T. and F. Givens 

It’s funny to me that we went to the top of the Shard, but I didn’t even get a decent picture of the Shard itself.  Oh well. 

Simon is obsessed with the Shard.  It’s a convenient obsession because it’s easy to spot, wherever you are in the city. 

“The Shard!” He shouts.  Really loud.  On the bus and the train and the DLR and walking about the city.  

I booked tickets for us to go to the top of it on an afternoon after I picked him up from school. It’s tricky planning things to do that I don’t think the other kids will be too disappointed about missing out on.  This one was expensive, so it was a practical choice.  

There is a train station really close to Lucas Vale school, and from there it’s a really short ride (12 minutes, with only one stop) to the London Bridge Station, which is where the Shard is located.  We walked to the station (or rather Simon ran out of excitement) and then we found a small cafe nearby The Shard to eat lunch. 

The Shard is 87 stories high (72 floors – someone explain that to me…), and the lift goes so fast it literally made me dizzy when I stepped off of it.  It was finished in 2012, and the observation deck was opened in 2013.  So it’s all really new, modern and overstimulating.  It is the tallest habitable building in the European Union.  (But nearly only a third the size of that EPIC hotel in Dubai, which is now on my bucket list…) 

Interestingly, it is jointly owned by a property company and the State of Qatar.  Crazy. 

It wasn’t a perfectly clear day, which was disappointing but those are hard to come by so I’m not complaining.  And there was amazing technology up there, where you could look through a camera that showed you what it would look like on a perfectly clear day.  

It was really fun.  Simon is a great little companion.  Even though I try to choose things he will enjoy, sometimes a kid just wants a playground.  

Yikes! Where has the time gone? Richard’s mom, Julie, arrived on the 19th and then Gordon came a week later so I’ve been busy playing hostess and then we took a holiday to Paris.  I’m excited to blog all about it- but I need to catch up first. 

After I went to Portobello Market I hopped on the train to get home.  As the DLR approached the Cutty Sark station I decided to get off the train and walk home through Greenwich park.  It was so nice.  As I’ve tried to adjust to this lonely time, missing family and friends back home and having trouble breaking through some cultural obstacles to make friends, I came across a really neat quote by Irish poet John O’Donahue.  

“When you cease to fear your solitude, a new creativity awakens in you. Your forgotten or neglected wealth begins to reveal itself. You come home to yourself and learn to rest within. Thoughts are our inner senses. Infused with silence and solitude, they bring out the mystery of inner landscape.”

His words gave me the encouragement I needed to embrace this time as an opportunity to get to know myself.  So now when I’m feeling discouraged or homesick or alone I try to just lean into it and enjoy it.  I think I’ll call it #embracesolitiude.   In any case, it really is a chance for reflection and a chance to count my blessings, acknowledge my treasures and nurture awareness of my wealth.  

My walk through Greenwich Park that day was sort of the beginning of that journey for me.