Several years ago, I decided to take each of my eight grandchildren on a trip as a high school graduation gift, beginning with my oldest grandchild, Hope. She graduated from high school in December 2003. We scheduled our trip for the summer.
    I was feeling anxious before the trip; Hope and I saw each other only a few times a year. Despite my anxiety about the trip, I had positive expectations: Hope might take advantage of learning opportunities not normally available to her, and we could become closer. What follows is a lighthearted description of our journey based on my journal and Hope’s photographs.

Paris

    Because our flight arrived very early in the morning we had to wait several hours to check in to our room. While we waited, we ate in the hotel’s breakfast room. Hope was quickly introduced to the uniqueness of European breakfasts: fruit punch instead of juice, luncheon cold cuts and nothing hot except for coffee, tea or chocolate.
    When we finally got into our room we were exhausted. It was tempting to sleep away the first of our precious three days in Paris. But we had plans to meet Hope’s Internet buddy, Guillaume (also known as Gum) at 2 PM. He lives in Normandy, a two and one half hour drive from Paris. She and Gum had arranged a rendezvous for that day. I was reluctant to let Hope go off alone with someone she knew only through E-mail and so I decided to accompany them. My concerns were unfounded. Gum arrived promptly at 2:00, accompanied by one of his younger brothers and his father, a Christian missionary.
    Gum’s father is from California and Gum was born in the U.S. When they spoke to us in English, they sounded very American, and when they occasionally lapsed into French, they sounded very French. Since Mr. Allardice rarely drove in Paris, we unintentionally saw parts of Paris, which I’m certain, had never been visited by American tourists.
    We began our more official sightseeing the next day with a visit to the Louvre. I wanted to accompany Hope on her quest to view every painting. However, since this was our second day of sightseeing, my calf muscles weren’t cooperating without causing excruciating pain. Before next year’s trip with my second grandchild I need to rejoin the gym.
    I found myself gravitating to the next available bench at every turn. At one point Hope exclaimed “Oh, Ami, look at that!” I assumed she had spotted the plush benches for which I was headed. But when I tuned around, I saw that she was pointing at a spectacular ceiling mural.
    As I had hoped, the trip provided a wonderful opportunity for us to get to know each other better. I discovered that she has a delightful sense of humor. One morning in Paris she commented “I’m feeling pretty good today; not really giggly, but not Presbyterian either.”
    On our last morning in Paris, we found a group of artists selling their colorful creations in the Tuillerie Garden. We were immediately attracted to the work and personality of a young woman. Hope purchased two lovely watercolors from her. We were engaged in a leisurely conversation with her when a young man ran by shouting a warning. The artist frantically gathered up her wares, explaining that the gendarmes were on their way. I started to help her but quickly stopped. A future in a Paris jail isn’t part of my life plan. I reassured Hope that she could keep the contraband art since she hadn’t been aware that the artist wasn’t licensed to sell her work in the Gardens.

Off to Zermatt

    After three days in Paris we took the high-speed train to Geneva. I was quite ready to leave. If I had had to walk the steps of Paris one more time, I think I might have expired beneath the Arc de Triomphe.
    In Geneva we had to transfer to a regional train for the trip to Visp. After dragging our bags up and down the various levels of the train station, I was relieved when we reached the right platform. My serenity was short lived. Hope noticed that her jacket was missing. She insisted on retracing our steps through the maze we had just left to find it.
    Before the trip I had promised myself that I wouldn’t let Hope out of my sight. I was torn between leaving our bags unattended and letting Hope go off on her own. I knew that my accompanying her would slow her down to a crawl, so I opted to stay with our bags. Since missing our train would cut our two nights/one day visit to Zermatt to one night/ no days, I told Hope I’d rather buy her a new jacket than miss the train. After reciting the departure time and the fact that European trains run on time, she disappeared out of sight. Since I was almost paralyzed with fear that she’d be kidnapped (or worse), or get lost, I popped an Ativan and hoped for the best. To my disbelief the train was actually a few minutes late, so Hope was able to catch her breath from her split second return before boarding the train without the cherished jacket.
    The trip on the cog railway up the mountain was enchanting until we backed halfway down so the failing locomotive could be replaced. I don’t know why I was so calm throughout this experience. Maybe the Ativan hadn’t worn off yet.
    When I commented that I hoped they had attached the locomotive tightly so we didn’t have to spend the night in Visp, Hope replied, “ No, we’d spend eternity in Visp.”

Zermatt

    Our primary goal in visiting Zermatt was to take the cable car to the top of Klein Matterhorn. I asked Hope if she thought she would be warm enough at the top of the mountain without the lost jacket. She was unconcerned. She also pointed out that people who froze to death often die nude because they feel very warm toward the end and remove their clothes. I went back to our room to don my long johns, since I didn’t want to risk subjecting myself to the ultimate humiliation of dying fat and naked.
    The trip to the mountaintop involves riding on three different lifts. On this adventure we met a young man from Rhode Island. Since he rode to the top of the mountain wearing a thin shirt I figured he was an academic. He told us he was working on a PhD in chemical engineering; his topic was sandwich composites, whatever that is. Several other people went to the third level with us. So when Hope said she wanted to visit the famed Ice House, I said she could go with the group and I’d stay behind.
    Shortly after she disappeared from view, I realized that only she and Mr. Sandwich Composite had gone into the Ice House. However, I assured myself that there would be many other people inside. Besides Mr. Sandwich was very sweet and no doubt harmless. What seemed like an eternity passed without anyone going into or out of the Ice House. After recalling how good looking and charming serial killer Ted Bundy had been, I swallowed still another Ativan. Fortunately Hope and her escort emerged, eager to tell me all about their glacial visit.

Venice

    After arriving by water taxi and checking in to our hotel, we took a stroll through the neighborhood. We were soon hungry and Hope was looking forward to having her first bowl of spaghetti in Italy. After checking out several restaurants we found that pasta dishes were generally garnished with shellfish. We finally found a canal side eatery where they topped spaghetti with meat sauce.
    The next morning, while I was sipping the lemonade I had mistaken for grapefruit juice and Hope was politely drinking hers from the cereal bowl she thought was a juice glass, she brightly chirped “ I’m glad I got you when you were young.” No doubt she envisioned her baby sister, Emily, pushing a wheelchair containing her drooling maternal grandmother across Europe.
    Since Hope was impressed with Notre Dame, we made a visit to Saint Marks. While in the cathedral, I pointed to a few small children who had placed their stuffed animals on a small podium in the rear of the church. Hope explained that when young children have difficulty praying to an abstract God, they are encouraged to get started by praying to stuffed animals. She broke into gales of laughter when she realized that I was fooled by her explanation.
    Hope’s worldview had clearly expanded by the end of the trip. This became evident when we came across graffiti shouting “Yankee go home.” Hope turned to me and said “I guess that sign refers to all Americans, not just Northerners.”
    Our only real disagreement on the trip involved the decision to take a gondola ride. I felt that it was strictly a tourist rip-off. A gondola ride and a session with my psychiatrist both last 45 minutes, and cost the same. Hope negotiated a discount. I capitulated and we took off in style.
    After a self-directed tour of the famous Jewish ghetto we stopped for lunch at Gam Gam, the only kosher restaurant in Venice. Hope was able to find spaghetti on their menu and all seemed fine. When Hope asked for grated cheese for her pasta, the waiter frowned and shook his head. I assumed that his knowledge of English was limited and tried using sign language by making a shaking fist. The waiter made clear that his English was fine. “This is a kosher restaurant, and we don’t serve dairy products with meat dishes.”

The Journey Home

    At the Venice airport Hope said, “I never realized how much fun you are to be with!” I can’t imagine receiving a nicer compliment from my 16-year-old granddaughter, especially coming at the end of a nine-day marathon. After Hope described the trip to her family, the next two siblings in line immediately began to plan their trips. Brad and I expect to visit the British Isles in Spring 2004. I can hardly wait.