Two days in Paris. Lovely, if not for the weather and the strike of public transport. Our hotel was pretty central but still, walking everywhere with my aging parents and in pouring rain wasn’t so much fun. Still. Parents were reliving their first trip to Paris, so we had to visit all the traditional tourist spots--Monmartre, Sacré Ceur, Notre Dame, Eiffel Tower, Trocadero, the Latin Quarter. It was lovely to watch them stroll hand in hand, like lovers on their first date. I’m glad we made the trip, despite the rain and all the walking.

I finally made it to Musée d’Orsay. It’s been on my wanted list forever but somehow I had never managed to go there. It was splendid. If you like Impressionism it’s a must; if you don’t, it’s a must any way. All I managed this time was a glimpse, a pre-tasting; we’ve talked about going back in the summer for a longer visit. Though it will be swarming with American tourists on package deals then, so we might reconsider and wait till winter.

The return trip was a nightmare. With the strike still on, we waited forty-five minutes for a taxi, which in the end did not agree to take the four of us. I went with parents to pick up our luggage, leaving Jan to catch a bus directly to Gare du Nord. We got stuck in miserable traffic, left the taxi and ran to the train, my mother limping behind pale and breathless. We got to the station just in time, but Jan wasn’t there. Since our tickets were of the cheap non-refundable kind, I put parents on the train and stayed to wait for Jan. He arrived fifteen minutes later. Thalys was even kind enough to exchange our tickets on account of the strike.

When we arrived in Brussels on the later terrain I thought this was the end of the adventure--but wrong I was. For some mysterious reason parents had figured out that we should meet next to the car and went off to find it. They didn’t. Instead, they got lost. They managed to find their way back to the station but ended up in the local section, far away from where we were looking for them. And--of course--I didn’t have Mother’s mobile number on me... We found them in the end, of course, but let’s just say the end of the trip could have been more enjoyable.

Note to self: next time, check for planned strikes in Paris. Though they might be hard to avoid, given the French strike about every other week... ;-)