End of my iPhone 🤯

 Beautiful day for traveling. Had a wonderful flight between San Francisco and London, where I sat next to the tour manager of the Pink tour, and an easy hop across the English Channel to Paris. In between, my phone disappeared. 

So did my brand new khaki rain coat and a small bag of jewelry. I do have my iPad and can communicate with that where there’s Wi-fi, but I’m really sad. If the airlines had not told me in SF that I couldn’t take my travel size sets of shampoo and moisturizer, liquid anti-histamines and sunscreen in SF through Heathrow, I would have been ready. But I had to consolidate everything and toss a lot. I asked the agent, Where do I donate the brand new items, he pointed to the trash can. So I dumped them and fretted. 

It seemed too convenient that the Boots Pharmacy was right after security. They must be making a fortune.  I decided to walk a lap and see if there were other options. At another Boots store, I put down my phone and raincoat so that I could use the self-checkout. It was when I collected my items and walked out the store that I realized I as missing my phone.

FYI, Lost & Found is another company. Nobody on site to help.

I was starting to panic, but then decided to methodically retrace my steps. No luck. Gate agents- no luck. One nice customer service agent helped me make it through to my flight, after the British Airlines manager said they’ d charge me 375£ extra to change my flight. I wanted to stay and keep looking. They said I’d never find my phone and I should get on this plane before it took off.

I made it to the gate with a wobbly lower lip and wobbly knees.  Then I met Amanda from South Africa and learned she had just buried her mother.

40 years ago, I didn’t travel with an iPhone. Maybe I can do it again.

Oops.There’s a bunch of tickets on it. And photos! Should I buy a camera and a burn phone?

Thankfully with friends tonight in Paris. Dinner at Malabar ( near Rue Cler) and highlights of the French Open.

Unpacking/Repacking

 The pleasure or the panic - which will it be during the last few hours before I leave? 

I have so many lists I had to make a list of my lists.

I've packed a 20" international rollaboard with a capsule wardrobe edited by my daughter.

I'm trying to get everything else in my backpack, without using the expando zipper. That's supposed to be only necessary for the return journey. Sigh.

Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carry reminds us of our baggage. I'm simply unwilling to check a bag, so what do I need to bring vs. what do I want to bring? Time to start tossing.

For the first trip ever, I'm not bringing a pile of books. I have an iPad with 18 downloaded.

I hear "London Calling," a popular punk song when I was in the U.K. in 1984. I was so afraid of punkers until I went to a club wearing a friend's animal print pants. (I have animal print on my watchband)

Here's the original video (after all this, wontcha gimme a smile?)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfK-WX2pa8c

Au revoir! Ciao! Auf Wiedersehen! See ya, US!

Almost on the road

 At 3:30 on Friday 24 May, I submitted my grades and am officially on vacation. 

How come my "to do" list is getting longer instead of shorter? 

I've spent many happy months thinking about this trip and all of a sudden I'm losing a bit of confidence. The "what ifs" are starting to infect my thinking, which simply means it's time to slow down and let this morning's long-acting steroid shot in my knee get to work. Who wants to limp around WW2 battlefields, through Monet's garden in Giverny, and along the Seine in Paris? I'd better add some anti-inflammatories to my list.

Our last Teen Open Mic event last night is something to savor. We had singers, songwriters, and poets reading their original work. I read a poem that will be published next month and the group helped brainstorm titles for me. 

I handed a crisp Ben Franklin to A. G., who won the first Poet's Corner Award for graduating seniors. Her ode captured all of the judges' attention and it was thrilling to meet her and hear her read.

Being in a poetry community (or any creative arts community) is so important and when folks say this next generation is full of troubles, I think of my writers and students and know they are asking all of the right questions. I'm not worried about them.

First stop, Paris. There, I'll find some poets in Shakespeare & Co., the famous bookstore in every movie about Paris. 

I wonder if any poets will be observing the 80th anniversary of D-Day celebrations through the lens of a military brat pacifist? I'll be tromping all through Normandy in week, following the footsteps of those who fought in a battle that changed the outcome of the war. I get serious when I think about those men who faced the cliffs above Omaha Beach and heard machine gun fire for the first time. Whew.

Before I head to the sea, I'll fulfill a lifelong dream and meet my best friend, another JJ, in Paris. What she doesn't know is that I have a joke ready to play on her in the Montmartre. There, a guide will meet us for a tour of Moulin Rouge and the old red light district. "French Frye" is in cahoots with me and if my scheme to surprise her works, I'll certainly share it here.

 

Être fleur bleue            "be a blue flower"