Spring Break: How to Turn a Mediterranean Cruise Disaster Into a Parisian Adventure (with Only a Minor Existential Crisis)

For Alex’s spring break, we had big plans: a cruise from Bari, Italy, to Athens, Ephesus, Istanbul, and Corfu. You know, the kind of trip where you unpack once and pretend you’re living the high life instead of schlepping bags from one “Old Town” to the next. 

Our usual road trips had a predictable formula: drive, unpack, see every possible sight (bonus points for anything labeled “historic”), repack, and repeat until someone cries or the snacks run out.  But this time, we were ready for something new. We even booked an archaeologist to show us around Ephesus, because nothing says “vacation” like learning about ancient plumbing.

Plot Twist: The Cruise That Wasn’t

We arrived in Bari, Italy, all set for our cruise. At 5pm, just as we were congratulating ourselves for not forgetting anyone’s passport, we got a text: “We’re sorry, but for mechanical reasons we need to cancel your cruise tomorrow.” Nothing like a little last-minute chaos to spice up your vacation! Apparently, the ship was having a midlife crisis and needed a break.

Cue frantic calls to our travel agent (thankfully, it wasn’t 3am in California). After confirmation that yes, the cruise was really canceled, we faced our options:

• Go back to Amsterdam and spend ten days pondering our life choices (and celebrating “Second Easter” - the Monday after Easter, also a Dutch holiday - which, according to our cab driver, is "when you visit the side of the family you like less")

• Find somewhere else to go at the last minute

  
  

Pizza-Fueled Planning

Over Deliveroo (the Doordash of Europe) pizza—because if you’re going to have a crisis, you might as well eat carbs in Italy—we brainstormed. Venice? Forecast: rain, rain, and more rain. We didn’t pack our Dutch raincoats, so that was out. Vienna? Lovely, but probably only two days’ worth of “Wow, look at that old building.” Paris? Well, we’d only spent four hours there during the Olympics, and that barely counts.

So, Paris it was! And better yet - the super detail-oriented planner in me loves a  “spontaneous adventure” where I book flights, hotels, and tours in a two hour internet frenzy. Eiffel Tower tickets? Sold out. Notre Dame? Also sold out. But hey, we had Louvre, Versailles, Normandy, and a food tour lined up. Who needs sleep when you have Parisian pastries to look forward to?

Paris: The City of Lights (and Mild Trauma)

I’d been to Paris in the late ‘90s and, let’s just say, the city and I had some unresolved issues. My one year of college French was just enough to earn me world-class sneers from the locals. I have vivid memories of trying to buy a train ticket to Mont Saint Michel and being cut in line by what felt like the entire population of France. It was… not magical.

But I tried to hide my lack of enthusiasm from Mike and Alex, who were both excited to see Paris for real this time. Our Louvre tour was first. Just like 30 years ago, the Mona Lisa was still small, the crowds were still large, and the museum was still overwhelming. Alex’s favorite was “Liberty Leading the People,” which is at least 300% more impressive than the Mona Lisa’s paperback-book sized frame.

Navigating Paris: Now With 100% More Google Maps

Getting around Paris used to require a PhD in guidebook studies. Now, Google Maps tells you not only which train to take, but which car to stand in for maximum efficiency (really!). 

Notre Dame was as majestic as ever, and we got in without a reservation by showing up early. We sat in the back during mass, soaking in the ambiance and pretending we were medieval peasants marveling at the architecture (and probably wondering how to get out of paying taxes). 

The thing that struck us was what it must have been like for those peasants in 1345 - when the cathedral first opened.  They had likely come from their dirt floor huts and now they were surrounded by opulent stained glass and soaring ceilings.  We couldn’t help but wonder - would they have been impressed or a little put off by the grandeur of the place compared to their own lives?

After Notre Dame, we stopped for croissants. As Americans living in the Netherlands, we were emotionally unprepared for how good even the most random Parisian café food was. We swooned. We may have shed a tear. We definitely planned to buy as many croissants as humanly possible over the next few days.

Our food tour started with a picnic in a park—baguette, cheese, salami, and hard cider. Our guide, a child psychologist who’d been to 62 countries and spoke six languages, regaled us with tales of French labor strikes. Apparently, in France, going on strike is a national pastime, right up there with eating cheese and ignoring tourists. It’s even the case that if you work in an unrelated industry, you feel left out when someone else is on strike. We heard that tech companies clean out when there are train strikes and refugee strikes since everyone participates. Not what you'd see in the US.

Alex Drops a Bombshell

During the food tour, Alex casually announced he might want to live in Paris for a couple of years. Mike chimed in that Paris was one of his favorite cities. Me? I started to realize I’d be visiting Paris a lot more in the future. I wanted to channel my good friend Greg, “C’est impossible!” But, again, I bit my tongue.

Versailles: A Cautionary Tale in Gold Leaf

Versailles was, as expected, jaw-dropping. But our tour guide focused less on the “look at all this gold” angle and more on “here’s what happens when the rich get all the money and everyone else gets the bill.”  It was a refreshing change from other tours we’ve done at Hearst Castle, the Biltmore, the Vatican, etc. where the majesty of the place it touted without context of what (or who) had to be sacrificed to accumulate such wealth.  I wondered whether that message was starting to become more relevant with what is happening throughout the world right now.  

Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, and a Change of Heart

The next day we braved the lines at the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe. The views were spectacular, and somewhere between the monuments and the pastries, my grudge against Paris started to thaw. Maybe it was the croissants. Maybe it was the company. Maybe it was Stockholm Syndrome. Who can say?  But returning to this city of extravagance suddenly felt much less daunting (except to our checkbook).

Normandy: History and Humility

Our Normandy tour was sobering and awe-inspiring.  As with a lot of our time in Europe, I had not fully understood the magnitude of the events of WWII.  I didn’t realize that D-Day had been planned for months before the attack.  Nor was it clear to me how much of the coastline the Nazis had on the Atlantic Wall.  The fact that D-Day was successful at all becomes much more surprising when you are standing on Omaha Beach, looking at the Nazi bunkers and picturing the soldiers scaling the cliffs of Pointe Du Hoc.  It was truly awe inspiring.

The monument on Omaha Beach

At Utah Beach

Back to Amsterdam (and Plotting Our Next Escape)

Now we’re back in Amsterdam. Alex is learning French (with the help of ChatGPT and Duolingo), and we’re already planning to rebook the same cruise for next year. So all is not lost: we’ll still get our Mediterranean adventure, and I’ll get to visit Paris approximately twenty more times. Sigh.

Much love to all of you—and remember, when life cancels your cruise, eat pizza and book a trip to Paris. Or, you know, just go on strike. It’s the French way.