Life's Too Short

The older I get, the pickier I’ve become about accommodations. Decor is just as important to me as cleanliness, convenience, and affordability. I had pored over apartment listings on VRBO and Airbnb for days, looking at countless pictures, reading reviews and descriptions, researching locations. I wanted the perfect apartment: a stylish Parisian flat in a good location for a reasonable price. We got two out of three. I picked this apartment because it was in our budget, in a trendy neighborhood within five minutes walking distance to the Eiffel Tower, and had great pictures and reviews. When we stepped inside, my heart sank. The apartment was a great deal shabbier (and dirtier) than what was depicted in the pictures, and its weak electric heaters hardly did anything to make being inside feel any different from being outside. We had to resort to sealing off all windowsills and doorsills with blankets and keeping all the shutters closed in an attempt to insulate the apartment. It’s like living inside a refrigerator: dark, cold, and gloomy. Not exactly how I imagined spending the next six weeks.

If it had been a fabulous and comfortable apartment, I could overlook minor annoyances. I know that renters are supposed to buy their own supplies, but vacation rentals, as a courtesy, usually supply adequate “starter” amounts of the basics: toilet paper, salt, pepper, sugar, soap. The apartment had almost none of these things. Imagine my frustration upon arriving to Paris after a red-eye flight and finding that there was barely a quarter of a roll of toilet paper in the entire apartment, not enough to last our family of five for much longer than a minute and a half. So forget about resting or taking a nap or unpacking, we immediately had to set off for the nearest grocery store in search of toilet paper. Then imagine my frustration upon later learning that the apartment didn’t have salt, pepper, or sugar and then having to run out to get those things too. And so forth with soap, dish detergent, etc. Fortunately there are several stores in close proximity but the mounting costs and inconvenience are seriously getting on my nerves.

The worst thing about the apartment (so far) is the second bedroom that is accessible only by going outside and traversing a terrace about ten feet across. Having to go outside in the dead of winter every time you want to get into your bedroom basically renders that bedroom non-usable space. Even though this apartment costs less than staying in a hotel for six weeks, it still wasn’t cheap and I don’t feel like I’m getting my money’s worth. And don’t even get me started on the condition of the towels.

This isn’t shabby chic, just shabby.

This bathroom has seen better days.

Gross bathtub.

Today our flight leaves for Paris and I’M SO EXCITED. Thanksgiving with family in Houston was great, but I’m really looking forward to some French bread, wine, saucisson, fromage, and café au lait. The idea of Christmas and NYE in Paris seems really romantic, although I’m not sure how romantic it can be with my mom and kids in tow.

Okay, there might be some haters out there thinking, why does Emily get to take a year off from work to roam any continent that strikes her fancy? Who does she think she is going to Paris for six weeks on a whim? The thing is, for me, Paris is not a whim, it’s a dream. Ever since Tom and I first visited in 2005, it’s been my heart’s desire to live there for a year. Kind of like the movie Revolutionary Road, except without the tragic death part. When I decided to take a sabbatical, my first choice was to spend it in Paris. For a variety of reasons, Vietnam ended up being the more practical and economical choice. Then we got there and I realized that practical and economical isn’t always the best choice. Even though the cost of living in Vietnam is dirt cheap, as the rich Americans we were expected to shoulder a lot of other expenses, which was totally fair and reasonable. But it got me thinking, if I’m going to be broke by the end of my sabbatical, why not spend it where I really want to be?

Tom has to attend a conference in Las Vegas in mid-January, so six weeks in Paris was a compromise. After all is said and done, I know I’m a very lucky girl.

Family and food (and taking pictures of your sleeping kids in their cute jammies), this is what Thanksgiving is all about.

Unfortunately my sister couldn’t join us this year but I wouldn’t feel too sorry for her because her Costa Rican vacay looked fantastic. My aunts and cousins in Houston are very much like my mom’s family in Vietnam; they don’t skimp on food or hospitality, and they know how to do Thanksgiving right, which means tons of VN food alongside three (or was it four?) deep fried turkeys.

Next stop: Paris!

Children are magical creatures. Living with them is like having fairy sprites in your life. They’re miniature humans who are semi-rational and sometimes insane. They’re adorable to look at and can be maddening to deal with. They can be so logical and illogical, or maybe it’s more accurate to say that they don’t conform to adult constructs of logic and instead have their own.

For example, ever since we returned from Vietnam, the boy, unsurprisingly, has been resistant to sleeping alone in his own bed and room — a predictable outcome after co-sleeping with us for 6 months. While I was tucking him in tonight, he whimpered that he didn’t want to sleep alone, as tears trickled from his eyes. It’s hard to stay strong when all you want to do is take your crying three-year-old into your bed and cradle him until he falls asleep. I gave him a stuffed animal and tried to convince him that his bunny friend would protect him while he slept. He picked up the stuffed bunny and pointed out, very matter-of-factly, “But this is just a toy. He can’t walk or talk.” I find that I’m often impressed by my kids’ counter-arguments and negotiation skills. Earlier in the week, however, after I had scolded the kids for being mischievous and doing something that they knew they weren’t supposed to be doing, the boy turned to his sister and said, right in front of me, “Girl, let’s go somewhere where Momma can’t see us.” I couldn’t help but crack up over how transparent his attempt at deception was.

The most endearing thing, to me, about young kids is the purity of their love. They love so guilelessly and unconditionally. No one but a child (and maybe dogs?) could love so freely. Imagine loving someone who controls every aspect of your life, someone who is always either making you do things you don’t want to do or preventing you from doing things you want to do, who says “No” all the time and yells at you, who demands complete submission and obedience. And yet children love their parents and always want to be around them. It’s a beautiful, touching, and humbling gift to be a parent.

Thanks to the kids’ aunties, we never have to buy Halloween costumes.

To celebrate the girl’s 5th birthday and as sort of a reward/treat/thank you to the kids for tolerating my premature mid-life crises and being in generally good spirits as we shlepped them through Southeast Asia, we got three-day passes to Disneyland and California Adventure. Our kids are so lucky to have us as parents.

Having just come from Vietnam, where it would be a miracle for any public bathroom to have toilet paper, my mom, Tom, and I couldn’t help making comparisons and questioning whether Vietnam would ever be in a position or have the infrastructure, resources and/or wherewithal to accomplish a small fraction of what Disneyland does so well: create a magical fairytale environment that is thoroughly entertaining and pleasing to its guests. Our conclusion, sadly, was no.

https://plus.google.com/u/1/photos/117364714322873137486/albums/5960009421046408705?sort=1

I don’t think I’ll ever again take for granted the wonderfulness that is my home country, the U.S. of A. It’s just so comfortable to be home! I wish we could have stayed at home a little longer, but the weekend after getting back we had to haul ass to Southern California to attend to some family matters. Since we were going to be in SoCal, I thought it would be a good idea to swing by Santa Barbara and then visit Disneyland for three days in honor of the girl’s 5th birthday.

If ever there was an antidote to Vietnam, it would be Santa Barbara. What perfect weather! What gorgeous scenery! What friendly customer service!

Tom and I both lost some weight in Vietnam, attributable to consuming mostly fish and vegetables, less meat, small portions, and recurring diarrhea. A highly effective weight loss plan.

I’m pretty sure I’ll gain the weight back and then some after about five minutes on an American diet. We drove straight to Grimaldi’s for some thin crust pizza practically as soon as we got off the plane, and the next morning headed to In-N-Out for some double-double love.

I also really missed simple meals at home like a plate of prosciutto with a plate of heirloom tomatoes and a glass of Pinot Grigio, which were virtually impossible to obtain in Vietnam. Asian food will always be my first love, however. What I crave every once in a while is very different from what I crave on a day-to-day basis.

This is real pizza.

A slice of heaven.

Heirloom tomatoes drizzled with olive oil and salt and pepper with a glass of chilled white wine are just about the best thing ever.

This is how real burgers are done.

Even though we dragged them out of their beds, the poor babies immediately fell asleep anytime they came into contact with a soft surface.

At the beginning of our stay in VN, Tom and the boy got haircuts (for a grand total of US$2.50) and the unsanitary conditions and overall third-worldness of the local barber shop were very striking to me. The second time the boy got a haircut (toward the end of our stay), the same barber shop looked very standard and ordinary. You do eventually acclimate to your surroundings, and now that we’re about to leave, I’m getting a little nostalgic about sweltering heat and humidity, riding on the backseat of a motorcycle through heavy pollution, and enjoying endless meals with endless relatives. There are things about VN that I will remember and cherish…but not enough to come back anytime soon.