Travel In Our Own Country: The White Cliffs of Dover

The White Cliffs of Dover is possibly my favourite 'tourist' site in Kent.  Sure, there's Canterbury and Dover Castle and the military canal in Hythe, but the White Cliffs has something for all of us.  I think it's the only place I've taken every single guest who has visited us over the past 2 1/2 years!

First off, it's cheap!  £3.50 to park the car and that's it.  The cafe and souvenir shop aren't exactly cheap but at least those are optional.  The first time we went to the White Cliffs, my sons were far more interested in the movements of Dover port: the ferries coming and going.  This past weekend they wanted to walk along the footpath so we did a small walk (my husband was carrying the baby in his arms; the paths are not exactly pram friendly).

They took turns with that backpack, which really only held a couple snacks, a juice and their baby sister's water cup.  We did a small loop and wandered back to the cafe/shop where we sat with coffees and juice and watched several ferries (we turned that into a game - which gate will the ferry arrive into?).  It was also a clear enough day that we could see France.

As much as our family likes driving across various countries and seeing new things, it's also nice to be home 15 minutes after leaving somewhere!

How It All Began

Travel has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.  The first flight that I vividly remember being on was a family trip to Quebec City when I was in Kindergarten (so age 5).  My memories are vague, but I recall my older brother (I have 2) allowing me to sit next to the window so I could see everything as we took off and landed.  I remember ordering ice cream, in French.  I remember watching Rescue 911 in a hotel room.  That's about it.

The next two trips would define my desire to travel: I turned 6 in Whitehorse, Yukon, and 7 in Darwin, Australia.  I didn't realise back then how lucky I was.  Or how out of the ordinary our travels were. 

My dad was raised in the Yukon so going up there wasn't a novelty to him.  I don't remember why it was that we were there in July '89 (a conference, perhaps) but we were.  I remember being exhausted and it closing in on midnight but it was still light out.  My brother had to explain why that was (I have great brothers, by the way!).  I know that I thought it was funny that I would turn 6 with a bunch of strangers at the university campus.  But I also thought that this was normal.

Australia was amazing, my memories are still vivid.  My dad did a 6 month sabbatical, so the rest of us went over for 4 months.  I missed May and June of Grade 1 in Canada, though we were actually in school for a large part of our time there.  We started the 4 months with snorkelling in the Great Barrier Sea, we took a side trip up to Bali, Indonesia (I'm thrilled to have gone there before it become as commercial as it is now) and we drove who-knows-how-many-miles from Darwin to Ayers Rock and back.  I climbed it, in sandals, at the age of 7.  I thought that this sort of trip was normal.

It took me a while to figure out that sacrifices were made in order for our family to travel.  And it took even longer to realise that people have different priorities; that not everyone has the desire to see different places or celebrate a birthday somewhere random (I have some interesting ones - along with 6 and 7, 14, 15, 20 and 21 were all in places away from home).  The urge to travel was handed to me on a silver platter by my parents, for which I am eternally grateful.

Paris: A Love Affair

It's either entirely fitting or a total cliche to start a travel blog with a photo of the Eiffel Tower.

Paris is my favourite city.  It has everything that I love: art galleries, French, unpasturised cheese, a vast metro system that just works and so on.  That said my first visit was underwhelming.  I was 16 and on a French exchange, which had 40 students in Paris for 3 days before spending nearly 3 weeks in Tours, France with host families (the latter is a whole other story!).  

We landed in the morning and hit the ground running.  Except we didn't.  I had dreamt about visiting Paris for years - to climb the Eiffel Tower, visit the Louvre, eat amazing food.  So what did 40 16 year olds from Canada do in April 2000?  We looked at the Eiffel Tower, we didn't go to a single museum, we were left to shop in two different areas for 2 hours each (once along the Champs Elysees, the other in the 9iem near The Opera House/Printemps Department Store), we went on a boat cruise along the Seine during a torrential downpour, and...AND to this day I think that this is my mother's favourite story about the whole thing...we were forced (yes, you read that right) to eat at the Hard Rock Cafe.  Nothing says I'm in Paris! like hamburgers, fries and Coke.

I needed to go back and do it right.  So I did in June 2003.  I spent 9 glorious days doing as much as I possibly could.  I went up the Eiffel Tower.  I spent a day in the Louvre and only saw 1/4 of it.  I had a "museum Tuesday" - I visited the Musee de Rodin, Musee D'Orsay and Les Invalides in one day.  I ate savoury crepes with other travellers at a tiny cafe near our hostel.  I sat outside Notre Dame, watching people and writing in my journal.  I took the RER out to Versailles.  I didn't(?) touch bones in the Catacombs.  I went to Sacre Couer and admired the view.  I went to the Picasso Museum.  I sat in the Jardin des Tuileries and read my favourite book.  I admired L'Arc de Triomphe.  I wandered along the Seine, stopping occasionally to write in my journal and sometimes just to take it all in.  

In August 2004 my then-boyfriend, now-husband, took me to Paris for 2 days.  We went up the Eiffel Tower together.  We sat in cafes and drank espresso.  I took him to Musee de Rodin (my favourite, by the way).  We wandered the streets.  And then I didn't get to Paris again until 2011.

We had recently given up trying for a third baby.  Over a year, no luck.  So I was thrilled when my husband called from work on a Thursday and said: "Want to go to Paris this weekend?"  The advantages of living 10 minutes from the EuroTunnel were never more clear.  We booked a 3:30am train, which meant we had to wake up at 1:50am.  We pulled the 2 boys out of bed, caught our train and drove to Versailles - arriving early enough to park in the parking lot right next to the entry gate (a big feat, I swear!).  We then drove to our hotel, parked the car, checked in and set off for the afternoon.  We showed our boys L'Arc de Triomphe, we walked down the Champs Elysees, we ate crepes, the boys rode on a carousel next to the Seine.  The next day we chose to take the stairs up the Eiffel Tower - the queue was shorter, the admission price was cheaper and, hey, our kids got a great story to tell.  700+ steps later, we had two very proud boys on our hands.  We went to Notre Dame.  We went to the Centre du Pompidou.  And we drove home, feeling as though we had packed more into 36 hours than we thought possible (more than that first trip to Paris in 2000 at any rate!).

There are still things I haven't seen in Paris that I want to visit.  Lots, actually.  When people tell me that they're done with Paris, I don't get it.  Especially when it's after a very short period of time.  4 continents, endless amazing cities (NYC, Sydney, Vancouver, London, Rome, LA, Melbourne, Singapore, etc - all to come) and Paris is still, always, my favourite.