With our parents inching perilously closer to the days of discounted matinee tickets at the local arthouse cinema, Linda decided that it was high time for part dos of the slapstick horror/comedy/drama I euphemistically call “The Feinbergs take Europe.”
**Side note: the last time we tried to cross the pond together, Katy and I ended up spending the infamous NIGHT FROM HELL in sweltering swampy August heat in an un-airconditioned (while thoroughly charming) fortress overlooking Florence: sweating out our weaves, getting eaten alive by a rare breed of rabid Italian mosquitoes, and taking cold showers every five minutes from 10 pm to 6 am to douse the fires of our hysteria. Meanwhile, Beezus had two fans pointed straight at her mug while she hoarded all the bug-repelling coils and slept like a perspiration-loving baby demon.
Anyhoohoo, in June, we’ll all spend about two days in Paris to fulfill Linda’s lifelong dream of a family lunch at L’Ami Louis before parting ways – the parents will go putter around some Medieval castle in Normandy while we three wild banshees will show the Frogs of the Loire Valley how it’s done in Amurrica.
So if you find yourself sad, alone, eating your feelings, and wondering where the only joy in your life has disappeared to (i.e. reading Feinberg Festivus) on or around June 13th, it’s because we’re road-tripping to the birthplace of “Throw the Jew Down the Well” – France. Here’s the itinerary:
June 11/12: Two nights at the Hotel du Pantheon in Paris (Linda and Larry will be next door at the Hotel des Grands Hommes). Activities will include: making a ruckus, rocking the minibar, complaining about our feet hurting from all the walking around, and otherwise driving our parents/ each other nuts. You know, because that’s what people who aren’t ten years old do.
June 13-16: CHARD COUNTRY!
For the proposed route, click here
Babygirl somehow came to France a few years ago and never made it to the part of the country where they make her personal lifeblood: Chardonnay. So this time, we’re doing it right and getting hammered for three days straight on the sweet, sweet, nectar that courses through our veins like some kind of rare AB+ elixir of crazy.
The itinerary is still in its nascent stages (i.e. Katy and Betsy are still duking it out over whether or not we stop in Alsace – better known as “the Germany of France)” but we are definitely a go for L’Terre d’Or, which, in addition to being a très charmant bed and breakfast in the heart of Burgundy, roughly translates to THE LAND OF GOLD. P.S. There’s a grotto. That’s right. A grotto.
So wish us bon voyage and cross your fingers that Beezus makes it through customs without the TSA agents logically assuming she is a Dominican drug mule for all the Santo Domingo stamps she has in her passport. Also say a prayer that I do not get lost in the airport as per last time we traveled internationally and they had to send out the Marg-sniffing dogs to find my ass cowering pitifully in a corner with only my monogrammed purple LL bean rolling duffel to keep me company.
Definition of “Alone in my Principles.”