August 5
Ed and I arrived on time at 7:20 a.m. at the Barajas airport in Madrid. We made our way to the Iberia Terminal 4, where Louis was due to arrive from Sevilla at 10:05.

Near the gate where he was going to come out, we sat down for tea and sandwiches de jamon y queso.

At 9:45, I got up to stretch my legs and there he was, with his accompanying agent, looking around for us.

The whole thing had felt a bit miraculous from the beginning: Us flying from the States and meeting up with our 11-year-old grandson, who flew up on his own from Sevilla. But seeing his face light up when he spotted me made my heart lurch in my chest.

So now it was not yet 10:00 and our flight to Venice was not until 3:45 p.m. We decided to walk around and check out the airport. Then we took a cab into Madrid to see the center and get something to eat. We asked the cab driver to take us to the Sol, the center of Madrid. The cab ride took about 20 minutes.

After walking around for a bit, we found a restaurant with tables on the sidewalk. We shared two paellas and watched people walking by.

A young American (Texan) blond woman sat at the table next to us, reading a book. A man and his wife stopped at her table and asked if they could sit on the empty chairs at the other side of her table. “Of course,” she said smiling. The waiter came running out, waving at the couple who were just beginning to sit down. “You cannot sit here. This lady is sitting here. You must get up.”

The baffled couple rose and left in search of another table. Later, when the waiter came to give us our bill, he said, “That just isn’t right. We don’t do that here.”

A cross-cultural moment.

Back to the airport and off to Venice. The sight as we landed in Venice was spectacular. I realized that I’ve only traveled to Venice by train and had never seen the aerial view.

A private water taxi was waiting for us. It was a very fun ride into town, all three of us standing at the back of the speed boat, staring ahead of us and around us as we raced across the water.

“Your hotel Nani Mocenigo Palace is right around that corner,” the man said as he maneuvered the boat into a landing.

We pulled our suitcases the short distance to the “Nani Palace.” The outside looked a bit run down and not that interesting.  But our jaws dropped when we entered the large marble entryway. Up to the third floor to our “family room,” we entered what seemed like an apartment, with a large sitting room and two bedrooms.

After showers, we headed out for dinner. It was a warm night, with a bit of a breeze. I could hear an accordion playing a romantic tune on a gondola that glided by us. After all these years and so many millions of tourists, this was still a remarkable and romantic city!

We walked along the canal in front of our hotel to the corner, turned left, and to our right, along a wider canal was a terraza bordered by red geraniums, the tables covered in white cloths.

Louis ordered pizza, Ed seafood pasta, and I a sea bass that came as a whole fish on my plate. After dinner, we stopped to get a gelato for Louis.

When we got back to our suite, all three of us snuggled into our bed for about a half hour.

“What are we going to do all week?” Louis asked, squirming in between us. We had kept the plans for the week a secret from him.

“Do you really want to know?” I asked, knowing that he didn’t. He loved the idea of not knowing in advance, but he also loved asking us about it.

“Each morning at breakfast, we’ll have “the talk,” to discuss what’s happening that day,” Ed said.

August 6

“Today we’ll explore Venice for the day and then we get on a train to Milano,” we reported over a lavish buffet breakfast.

After a rather slow start, we headed out to explore Venice the way we all agreed we wanted to: by getting lost.

We got lost three times, and finally asked someone the way to San Marco square. Sweaty and hot, we ducked into an air-conditioned Trattoria for more pizza and pasta.

We got lost a few more times on our way back, picked up our bags and took a public water transport to the Lucia train station to catch our 17:25 train for Milano.

The 1st class coach was air-conditioned and offered snacks and drinks. They also promised Wi-Fi, which got us all excited. But it turned out to be a false promise.

We arrived in Milano at around 7:30 p.m. Our hotel was just a short walk away. When we got to our air-conditioned room, each of us flopped down with our electronics and forgot all about the time. Suddenly, we noticed that it was after 9:00. We rushed out to find some dinner.

A restaurant down the street looked promising. Pasta, pizza and a salad. When they came around with a dessert tray, Louis thought they were bringing him all 12 desserts: tiramisu, crème brulee, chocolate cake, etc.  Finally coming down from his excitement and realizing that he was being asked to choose just one, he chose tiramisu.

When the main waiter brought the check, he asked Louis (in a voice loud enough for everyone around us to hear) if he should add a big tip for the waiter who had served our table (the checks in Italy don’t even have a space for a tip and seem not to expect one – usually). At first Louis said “no,” but when asked again, he popped a big spoon of fluffy tiramisu in his mouth and said, “Of course.” By now, the entire place was cheering for Louis and our waiter. By the time we left – after paying the tip, people were high-fiving us!

August 7

We were up a little after 7:00 to enjoy another bountiful breakfast buffet. We’re figuring out that Louis eats a lot all day long, except for breakfast. It was hard to get him to eat anything.

We had “the talk,” and told Louis that today we were taking a train to Tirano and then transferring to a train called the Bernina Express, which traverses the Swiss Alps and provides amazing scenic views. From there, we would head to Zurich, where we’d spend the night.

By 9:00, we were off to the train station to catch our train to Tirano, about 2 ½ hours. Even though we had 1st class seats, just like yesterday’s train out of Venice, this one was dirty and grimy and had no air conditioning.

About an hour and a half into our trip, the train stopped. About ten minutes later, an agent came through our train car and explained that there was a car accident on the train tracks and that we were stopped until it could be cleared off the track and taken care of. Since the front of the train was only two train cars ahead of us, we could lean out of our window and watch the whole thing. First an ambulance arrived and a woman was removed from the car. Then the car was taken off the track and we saw the smashed-in front end. It appeared to be an accident that happened with another vehicle on the highway (right next to the train tracks), and the accident pushed the car up onto the tracks.

Tirano is a small town that looks more Swiss than Italian. All of the signs are written in both German and Italian. We passed by the German restaurants in town and decided on a lovely Italian place, deciding we needed to have pasta, pizza and a salad one more time in honor of Italy.

A couple sitting near our table laughed with us when Louis tried to share a slice of his pizza with me, and long strands of cheese spread all over our table. We began to speak with them and learned that they were from Quebec. What surprised me is that the lady spoke almost no English and her husband’s English was broken. In French, they told us how lovely it was to see grandparents enjoying travel with their grandson. I responded that we felt very blessed that his parents allowed us to do so. They nodded and said that their plan was to allow it when their children might ask to do the same.

Louis got excited for the first time about the upcoming trip when the couple commented on how very beautiful the Bernina Express trip was.

At 2:20 p.m., we boarded the Bernina Express.  It is a modern red train with observation windows that wrap all the way around part of the ceiling. We began climbing and Louis was super excited. When he learned that the train was only climbing about 4,000 meters, his enthusiasm dropped, but he did ooh and ahh a couple of times, especially when we crossed near a glacier and a steep water fall.

But boredom eventually took over!

We arrived in Chur just in time to board another train that would take us to Zurich.

It was dark by the time we reached Zurich. We weren’t sure how to best get to our hotel, given that we had no idea how far it was from the train station. We checked with a woman at an Information booth. She said to me in German, “Everything here in Zurich is very, very expensive, so don’t take a taxi. Try to go by subway.”

So off we went to see about getting subway tickets. Louis grumbled a bit. He thought a taxi was a much better idea.

A man from Jordan and Canada, who was buying subway tickets for himself and his daughter, helped us figure out what train lines would get us to more-or-less the area of town we thought our hotel was in.

Sure enough, after only three stops, we got to Sihlcity. I asked a young man, who looked like a native, how to get to the address of our hotel. In German, he asked with a twinkle in his eyes, “You want to walk all that way?”

“Yes, we do,” I answered.

“It’s just over there, around the corner,” he said, laughing.

We checked in, and once in our room, all three of us disappeared into the world of Internet.

“It’s almost 10:00,” Ed said, looking up. “We’d better go look for a place to have dinner.”

In fact, restaurants were just closing, but we found a place that would still serve us. Ed and I ordered poke bowls, and Louis ordered a “California cheeseburger,” which we all decided was the best of our meals. It was good to not be eating pasta and pizza!

August 8

This morning we slept in, since our tour of Zurich wasn’t due to begin until around noon.

We had “the talk,” and Louis learned that we were taking a tour of Zurich that included a bus, a cogwheel train, a boat, and a visit to a chocolate factory.

The bus tour of the city was not terribly interesting to Louis, until we passed the museum of the worldwide FIFA (Fédération Internationale de Football Association, which means International Federation of Association Football (soccer) in English), at which point he came out of his seat.

“I want to go there,” he almost yelled, as the bus rolled on to other parts of the city.

Ed and I decided we HAD to get to the FIFA museum, even if we missed part of the arranged tour. I spoke with our tour guide, who said the museum would be closed by the time the tour ended, and there was no way for us to be dropped off early to see it, because the driver would not be willing to make the stop.

I asked her to speak with the driver. We were not giving up!

We took the cogwheel train up to the top of a tall hill, which our guide explained was the equivalent of our Beverly Hills, where the “Stein reiche Leute wohnen– stone rich people live.” The people here were wealthy enough to build their homes with stone, she said, rather than wood, which could easily burn in the frequent fires.

Louis was especially interested in all of the Maserati, Lamborghini, Rolls, etc. that we saw in this wealthy part of Zurich.  And he found fascinating that a small apartment here could be rented for $1mm a year.

By the time we got on a boat to tour around Lake Zurich, clouds were rolling in and thunder rumbled around us. It began to drizzle on us, which was a delightful break from the temperatures in the 90s.

 

After the boat tour, we headed to the Lindt chocolate factory, the best part of the tour from Louis’ perspective.

After viewing a brief video of the Lindt history, we toured the shop, testing all kinds of chocolates along the way. Louis was horrified that a couple of kids were taking hands-full of chocolate, even unwrapping new ones, and popping them into their mouths without paying for them. This behavior got us talking about sins, big and small.

Louis didn’t know what a “sin” was. How does one explain this to an 11-year-old? I talked about sins when I was growing up in a Mennonite community. The sorts of things that were considered sins (like dancing and wearing makeup) made Louis smile. But then we got to more serious sins and this wise young man mentioned Adolf Hitler and Donald Trump.

As we boarded our bus, loaded down with a big bag of chocolates we had purchased, we again asked the tour guide if there was any way to drop us near the FIFA museum. This time she said there was a possibility to drop us a short distance from it, and we could walk to it.

Excitement! The best part was on the 1st floor where one can actually simulate playing football at various stations. His favorite was the “dribble” station.

We returned to our hotel in Sihlcity, which we now knew how to find by subway, and ate dinner at the same restaurant as the prior night. This time Louis ordered a hot dog, which was served with a good sauce of some kind, but no mustard. How weird.

Louis’ bottom-line impression of Switzerland is that it is much cleaner and more efficient than Spain or Italy. And it has way better cars. But it would be soooo expensive to live here!

August 9

A prepaid driver picked us up to take us to the Zurich airport. Along the way, we did “the talk.” Louis learned that we were on our way to Paris, and that we would attempt to get together with his soccer-playing friend, Nima, from back home in Eugene. Nima was living in Paris with his family for the summer.

We arrived on time, but the car we had arranged to pick us up wasn’t there. When I called to find out why not, I got some mumbling about flooding, which we later discovered was just an excuse.

Louis could immediately learn that the efficiency and timeliness of the Swiss would not be replicated in Paris!

Our room was smaller and more cramped than prior rooms, and breakfast was not included. What Louis didn’t know, but would have found fascinating, is that we paid a lot more for this smaller breakfast-less room!

The first thing we did was to have lunch at a fancy bistro, sitting at small sidewalk tables facing the street so typical of Paris. Louis loved the Croque Madame (a grilled cheese and ham sandwich topped with a fried egg).

We connected with Nima’s mom and arranged a meeting spot. Ed decided to stay in the room and rest. Louis and I headed out, despite a slight drizzle.

As we walked along toward the meeting place, I was struck, as I always am when I’m in this city, how much I love Paris. And here I was, in this crazy-beautiful city I once dreamed I’d live in, walking along beside my grandson. It felt almost overwhelming.

Nima and Louis grabbed each other and hugged. I loved seeing that they were not yet at that awkward age when they were embarrassed to hug.

We started out at Haagen-Dazs for double-dip cones for each of them, and then headed out in the light rain to a park that had a small soccer field. Three hours later they were exhausted, wet and happy. We said goodbye, and headed back to our hotel.

One event of note is that Louis needed to “go poop really bad” while we were at the park. We began to search for a toilet, but when I saw how he was walking, I realized we’d soon be too late. Handing him a tissue, we sent him behind some bushes. Not too many people can say that they pooped behind a bush in Paris!!

We returned to our hotel room, picked up a rested Ed, and walked to the Arc de Triomph and down along the Champs Elysees, not far from our hotel. Lights were just beginning to brighten this exquisite avenue. On the way back, we stopped for dinner at a somewhat less glamorous sidewalk café.

August 10

“The talk” this morning was an exciting moment, as Louis learned that we were going to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower in the morning, visit the Notre Dame Cathedral in the afternoon, and get on a fancy dinner cruise on the Seine in the evening.

The Eiffel Tower lived up to expectations. The rain had stopped, so the view of the city was spectacular. Louis kept asking, “What’s that?” I was sorry I had forgotten so much about the city that I mostly answered that I didn’t know.

After lunch and an Internet break, we took the Metro to Notre Dame. Near the cathedral we found the ice cream shop Nima’s mom had told us about. They served ice cream that was applied to the cone to look like beautiful flower petals.

When we entered Notre Dame, I sucked in my breath, as memories of my time studying in Paris back in 1978 rushed through my mind. I spent many hours sitting quietly on a bench while I was here, listening to the glorious piped organ music.

“This is the first time I ever felt like I was in a spiritual place, sitting in this cathedral when I was young,” I said to Louis.

“What does spiritual mean?” he asked. When I explained it to him, he asked, “But weren’t you in church a lot when you were a little girl?”

How does one explain the difference between religion and spirituality to a young man who has experienced neither in his life?

Confusing stuff.

Louis shared with us that he had attended mass every week during his six weeks in Spain. He knew about communion, but wasn’t sure what it meant, and what one had to do to be invited to receive the bread and wine.

Ed felt privileged that his upbringing allowed him to answer so many questions about Catholic rituals, flowing from Louis’ inquisitive mind.

Louis was especially fascinated by the priest who was hearing people’s confessions. The topic of sin came up once again. This time forgiveness got added to the list of complicated things to think and talk about.

On our way out of the crowded cathedral, Louis suddenly stopped and whispered, “That’s Paul.” The young man spotted Louis, grinned and waved. Louis explained to us that Paul was a friend whom he’d met in Spain several weeks earlier. I didn’t mention this to Louis, but it reminded me of his mother’s weird experiences of meeting people she knew in crazy places, like the middle of New York City.

It was time to go back to our room and get dressed up for our fancy dinner cruise. Louis looked very dapper, wearing his long-sleeved white shirt and long khaki slacks. Ed wore my favorite blue and white striped shirt. I hadn’t really brought any fancy clothes, but I did the best I could with what I had.

“You don’t look very dressed up,” Louis said, eyeing my best attempt. When he saw my downcast face, he added, “But you always look beautiful, Nani.” Oh, does he know how to melt my heart!

We were picked up and taken to the pier. We boarded the river cruise ship and after a brief wait, were shown to our table for three, along the side of the ship. It was the right side, it turned out. As we floated past Notre Dame directly in front of us, the musical performance broke into Ave Maria. Louis watched both Ed and me dissolve into tears without even asking us why. He saw spirituality in action, and knew it when he saw it.

The dinner was as lovely as Ed and I remembered it from this same dinner cruise several years ago.

As we neared the end, we floated toward the Eiffel Tower, lit up and glowing against the dark sky.

We all agreed that it had been a spectacular evening!

August 11

We got up early to head to Gare du Nord, where we would catch the Eurostar to London.

Winding our way around the huge Paris train station, we asked for directions numerous times. Finally, we learned of the need to go through passport control before boarding the train.

At passport control, the officer asked us if we had a letter from Louis’ parents, giving us permission to take him across the border. Given our three different last names, he was clearly skeptical and concerned.

We looked at each other. Louis stared at us.

“No.”

“Because of child trafficking, we have to be very cautious about allowing children to cross the border with adults with different last names.”

After asking me a few questions about Louis, he turned to him. “Who are these people and how do you know them? he asked.

Louis pulled his shoulders back, looked the officer in the eyes and said, “They are my grandparents. She (pointing at me) is my mother’s mother.” Calm and precise. Exactly what was needed.

The Eurostar took us at high speed under the Channel to Britain.

While eating the breakfast they served us on the train, we had this morning’s “talk.”  We were off to London, we told him. He said he already knew this. We told him we’d walk to see Buckingham Palace, the guards, Downing Street, and we’d try to get a ride on the London Eye.

After pulling into King’s Crossing and a bit of trial and error, we purchased underground tickets and made our way to our hotel.

Louis had had an ear infection in Spain before we met him. It had seemed alright, but today it began to hurt him again. Since we arrived at the hotel before we were able to check in, we found a place for him to snuggle up with a pillow in the lobby and sleep for a bit. We found out where to go to a pharmacy if he woke up with a sore ear.

By the time we were allowed into our room, the ear was fine, and we were off again.

We walked. The crowds. The dirt. The filth. The trash. We all agreed that London (at least this touristy part of the city we were in) was a mess.  And the lines to get on the London Eye were far too long to make it worthwhile.

Buckingham Palace was probably what interested Louis the most. Is this where the prince and Meghan Markle live? What’s the Queen doing right now? Which one is her room? Does she have a pool? Why are the windows open? Does the Queen she still ride in a carriage?

The Queen didn’t come out to meet with us.

By dinnertime it was drizzling. We walked around the corner from our hotel to find a restaurant. A small Korean place looked interesting and we ducked in. We all agreed that the food was bland and that Louis’ ramen was the best choice, as always.

August 12

“The talk” this morning on our bed led to shrieks of joy. We had saved the best, the Arsenal – Manchester City football match, for this last day. It was the hit we hoped it would be.

We ate a late breakfast and then headed back to our room to prepare for the last big event.

“I have football jerseys you can wear,” Louis said enthusiastically, digging through his suitcase. “That way you’ll look like you know something about it.”

We both tried on the biggest jerseys he had in his suitcase. Not surprisingly, they were too small for both of us.

“That’s OK. As long as you wear something red.” He was whistling and twirling around the room, wearing his new red Arsenal shirt we’d gotten him.

We took the underground to the Arsenal/Emirates stadium, which was a long way to the north of London.

After waiting for a bit, we got our Executive Box tickets and were shown to our table for a gourmet pre-game meal.

Louis was too excited to eat much. While Ed and I enjoyed sushi, smoked salmon, grilled mushrooms, pork loin, sea bass, and much more, Louis leaned across to converse with people at the neighboring tables.

We occasionally picked up a word or too that we understood in their conversations. We found it fascinating that Louis seemed to add as much to the various exchanges about football as the adults around him.

Then we spotted one of the legends coming toward our table. We learned that he was Nigel Winterburn, who played primarily as a left back from 1981 to 2003. We were duly impressed. He was charming.

After our meal, we were escorted to our box.

“Why are the escorts all pretty ladies in high heels?” Louis asked. Why indeed. That one was hard for me to answer without going into the long history of discriminatory hiring.

During the entire match, Louis again engaged enthusiastically with neighboring passionate football experts. They seemed to love talking with him.

Arsenal lost (2-0) and we left believing that we’ll be fans of Man City for the rest of our lives. Their bodies seemed to float across the field. Their passes were precise and consistent.

After the match, we returned to the restaurant, thinking there would be lots more food. But we were served just a few cakes.

We followed the crowds to the underground and back to our hotel room, well satisfied with our afternoon.

August 13

This final day, there was no “talk.” We all knew that this was the end of our adventure together.

The car taking us to the airport waited for us a few blocks away while we waited in front of the hotel. We finally called and were told that he was there. Fortunately, we had plenty of time.

During the long ride to Gatwick, Louis leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I miss Elian (his younger brother) and am glad I’ll see him pretty soon.”

We found the Iceland Air counter and handed over Louis’ passport.

“He’s traveling as an unaccompanied minor to Reykjavik and then on to Newark, New Jersey,” I said to the young woman at the counter.

She clicked away on her computer.

“It appears that the unaccompanied fee has not yet been paid for,” she said.

I pulled out the paperwork Shareen had given me, and searched for the unaccompanied fee part, but couldn’t find it.

“Come back around 12:00, and please find a confirmation that this has been paid for, and we also need the identification information of the person who’s meeting him in New Jersey,” she said.

I got online and quickly sent a text to mama and papa, asking for this information. I ended the text with: Is anyone awake? It was much too early in the morning in the States to expect anyone to not be sleeping.

Luckily, mama bear was awake. She provided all of the information we needed.

I said to Louis, “Mama had her phone under her pillow just so she could be right there if we needed her.”

“Mama’s a god,” he said. “A goddess,” I added.

We had time to order a breakfast. While eating, I asked Louis if he was nervous.

“No, just excited,” he said.

Louis had often made exactly this distinction when we’d asked him if he was nervous before a musical performance or an important soccer match.

“What’s the difference between nervous and excited?” I asked.

“Nervous is when you feel hesitant about doing something. Excited is when you can hardly wait to do it.” His body arched out of his chair when describing the latter, almost like a racehorse lunging toward the starting line.

When we returned to the Iceland Air ticket counter, I filled out the various forms with all of the information. We were told the accompanying person would take him to his gate and that we were not allowed to come along.

Ed told me later, that on the side while I was filling out forms, Louis whispered to Ed, “It’ll be better that you don’t come with me down the concourse. It’ll be easier for Nani.”

Maybe. But easy it was not. Love and goodbye are never an easy combination for me.