My first big trip
Jul 13, 2009 20:32:23 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2009 20:32:23 GMT
When you are two years old, you don't have control over your life and you go wherever you are taken. If you are lucky, some photographic traces remain to show you how your life was, what you did and where you went.
My grandmother had come all the way from a tiny French village to a tiny American village to be present when I was born. She did that all by herself, and I still consider that to be an incredible exploit for a peasant woman who had left school around age 12 travelling alone and not speaking English.
Anyway, my mother promised that she would make a trip to France with her children as soon as she could save up enough money, and that occurred when I was 2 1/2.
We took the train from Gulfport, Mississippi to New York City and sailed on the S.S. Ile de France.
Even though we had the cheapest possible tickets, transatlantic travel was a big thing, and even in tourist class the dining room was a classy affair with fresh linen, authentic silverware, a new menu printed for every meal and impeccable waiters.
In Le Havre, there was a special train waiting for the ship to take the passengers to Paris. My mother had an aunt and uncle living in the suburbs of Paris, and I'm sure we stayed with them for a few days.
Then we took the train from Paris to Metz and connected to the small village line about 20km away. My grandfather was stationmaster at this station.
We stayed for nine months, because my mother could not afford the ticket to go back, so my first language was actually French.
Little did I know that I would be taking my first airplane ride during our stay in France.
We also spent a lot of time at the village café drinking Pschitt! Orange, our favorite beverage.
Finally, we had to say goodbye to our grandparents, but I know that my grandfather was very proud to brag about his American grandchildren every chance he got. My grandparents' kitchen garden is in the background.
My grandmother was a very motivated lady, and she made another nine trips to the United States in her life.
(Yes, I am the little one on the photos.)
My grandmother had come all the way from a tiny French village to a tiny American village to be present when I was born. She did that all by herself, and I still consider that to be an incredible exploit for a peasant woman who had left school around age 12 travelling alone and not speaking English.
Anyway, my mother promised that she would make a trip to France with her children as soon as she could save up enough money, and that occurred when I was 2 1/2.
We took the train from Gulfport, Mississippi to New York City and sailed on the S.S. Ile de France.
Even though we had the cheapest possible tickets, transatlantic travel was a big thing, and even in tourist class the dining room was a classy affair with fresh linen, authentic silverware, a new menu printed for every meal and impeccable waiters.
In Le Havre, there was a special train waiting for the ship to take the passengers to Paris. My mother had an aunt and uncle living in the suburbs of Paris, and I'm sure we stayed with them for a few days.
Then we took the train from Paris to Metz and connected to the small village line about 20km away. My grandfather was stationmaster at this station.
We stayed for nine months, because my mother could not afford the ticket to go back, so my first language was actually French.
Little did I know that I would be taking my first airplane ride during our stay in France.
We also spent a lot of time at the village café drinking Pschitt! Orange, our favorite beverage.
Finally, we had to say goodbye to our grandparents, but I know that my grandfather was very proud to brag about his American grandchildren every chance he got. My grandparents' kitchen garden is in the background.
My grandmother was a very motivated lady, and she made another nine trips to the United States in her life.
(Yes, I am the little one on the photos.)