Rocky Mountain High

Golda has been in a post-mission depression since she got home and discovered that life is meaningless when you're not spreading the joy of the gospel in Hong Kong. Really, re-entry is rough. It's hard. Looking back, my advice to families who have a missionary come home, is MAKE TIME FOR THEM! Just put thing son hold. They're disoriented and sad. They just need your presence. Golda got home December 1, and we were BUSY! It was Christmastime, which involves an amped-up schedule already, but we also had Golda's homecoming, Ptolemy's baptism, Ruby's mission call, dozens of Nutcracker performances, a busy music store and countless parties and events to host and attend. I pictured Golda just jumping into the fray, but she was unable. She felt lost and superfluous. From the outside looking in, she felt like we didn't need her. I was constantly asking her to do things like drive kids to ballet, which I thought was helpful to "keep her busy" and help her integrate into life again. And, I'm sad to admit it, I was a bit impatient with her sincere sorrow. I told her it was normal, and she needed time to get over it, which was true, but what I didn't do was take the time to just BE with her. None of us did. We were all so happy to have her back, we didn't want to notice that she was drowning in the life that we had so eagerly anticipated her being a part of again.

It wasn't all bad. There was a lot of fun to be had, and slowly Golda oriented herself, but she needed to do something big, to get her heart pumping again. She booked a trip to Europe. She used every penny she had, which is the Dopp way, to arrange this trip. She worked for me on weekends at the store, and took any odd job she could find. She starved and saved food money. She took public transportation instead of driving. She needed this.

The flight she booked was out of Denver, because it was a steal of a deal. Nonstop to Paris for like $450 over spring break. Scott and I were more than happy to drive her to Denver so we could spend time with her. It was a super fun trip. We woke up early and drove without incident to Fort Collins, where we had lunch at a trendy little burger place. We dropped off Golda at the airport where she commented, "I hope this trip fixes me." If anything can fix a person, it's a couple weeks in Paris and London with old friends.

We interrupt this blog post to imform you that Araceli got her drivers license. Is that how you spell it, really? Blogger is being weird with pictures, and it's hard to upload them, so I'm leaving these here. Celi having her license has been great. It saves me SO much driving! She's working hard to be responsible and not do anything spontaneous like driving to San Francisco instead of going to seminary. She probably would if she could afford the gas.

Anyway, these pictures are in random order, but after dropping excited little Golda off, Scott and I drove back to Fort Collins. We used our free Marriott night to book the best, most darling hotel. It's called The Elizabeth, and you have to stay there. I haven't been to Fort Collins for 25 years. Long ago, I spent a week there, staying with a violin varnish guru, Geary Baese, learning his varnish secrets and riding in his Model T Ford over to Estes Park for a party. Eccentric guy, and now I see why he chose Fort Collins as his home. It's full of characters who would drive a Model T over the Rockies for a party. As a weekend getaway, Fort Collins is incredible. Scott and I discovered far too many cool places to enjoy in just one night. We had an amazing time. We'll definitely go back to try some of the restaurants we didn't get to sample and stroll the downtown area further. It was so vibrant on a Thursday afternoon, so full of people, most of them older like us, just enjoying life. We loved it.

The next day, we set out early so we could be home to work. Unfortunately, I-80 was closed due to wind and snow. What could have been a 6-hour drive turned into a 12-hour journey over the Rocky Mountains. As soon as we got everything at home squared away, we enjoyed the drive. It was touch and go over the pass outside Vail, because it was snowing and we were afraid we would be turned back without four wheel drive. Everything was fine, though, and the weather wasn't too bad. We stopped in Vail for some ramen and made a new friend, the chef. He was from California. We had a nice chat. 

In just two days, we experienced a super fun getaway in a place that's close by, yet a world away. Travel doesn't have to be exotic of expensive to feed your soul.

Birthdays

Scott's 46th birthday party was a rager.  Nana had 3 cookies.  That's how out of control it was.

Frank brought a gift from China.  He is so thoughtful.  The rest of us went around the room and said what we WOULD have gotten Scott.  He would have gotten some cool stuff.  I would have given him a trip to Hawaii for the whole family.

Here's Scott, serving everyone, even on his birthday.

The girls' witches hats are hilarious, right?

Coco and Bill left for Paris on Scott's birthday and woke up in their favorite city for Coco's birthday the next day.  We love following their adventures!

My mom is so elegant and classy.  Happy birthday, Mom!

Les Miserables

The terrorist attacks were Friday, and Saturday was Les Miserable at Davis High.  What a timely show to sit through.  I was teary-eyed for most of it, but when it came to "Bring Him Home," it was very moving.  Niall Thorley (Curly in last year's Oklahoma that my kids were in, if you saw that) nailed every note.  Empty Chairs at Empty Tables was another tear jerker.  The terrorists were very savvy about their targets, going after young, progressive, integrated Parisians in diverse, non-tourist neighborhoods, to drive home the point that this could happen anywhere, to anyone.  I just kept thinking about all those empty chairs and empty tables the next day.  Reporters seemed extremely shaken as they reported the aftermath.  One observed that the cafe that was the scene of one massacre hadn't been cleaned up yet.  Everyone was in a state of shock.  And yet, four days later, the Eiffel Tower was lit up in a brilliant blue, white and red, adorned with the Latin words, "fluctuat nec mergitur,' bringing to mind a ship that is "tossed but not sunk."  Our French friends all told us that they were not afraid.  They're resilient and defiant, and they're showing it.

My mom and Trajan and Micaela and her mom are still in Paris, sad and shaken.  They'll have to tell the story of their experience when they get home in a couple of weeks.  For now, we try to make sense of the world, and follow the example of the French ideals of living life to the fullest.

This is the distinction between the historical characters in Les Miz, who led a failed revolution, and the people who were killed last week in Paris.  "The people who died this evening were outside living, drinking, singing.  They didn't know that they had declared war."

The first moments after my friend Michelle Fitzgerald alerted me and I contacted my mom.  They had been at a movie that night.

Bienvenue a Kaysville!

 She's baaaaa-aack!  Coco and friends have returned from Paris bearing gifts for everyone.  I'm telling you, it was like Christmas morning at Coco and Bill's when the non-stop Delta flight touched down on Utah soil.  Coco knows how to shop.  The girls are going to be so fashionable!  We're so glad to have Coco back.  We would have been glad even had she not brought presents on top of presents, but, well, it does make the homecoming even sweeter...literally, in the case of Lauduree macaroons!

 New dress!

 Here is Coco in her element.  When she dies and goes to heaven, I bet it will look like Rue Cler.

Homeward Bound

 Our last day in Paris started early, at the brasserie across from Notre Dame, sipping drinks at the counter with the men who were preparing to get to work, repairing the city streets or driving trucks.  Then we made sure we stepped on the spot at the very center of the city, for good luck.

 We left our bags in the apartment (it took 5 minutes to pack, since we only brought a couple of outfits) and set out for a full day in Paris, trying to to think about the reality that we would have to leave for the airport by 7:00.  Boo hoo!

 Look at Scott, sneaking "back stage" to be in the pictures!

 Magnolia trees were blooming everywhere.

 What are the strings for?

All these pictures were just part of our master plan, to enjoy the setting wherever we were, and to take our time there.  The only sad part was that our regular patisserie was closed on Mondays.  Oh, the horror!!!!

 We made up for it later, on our way to Luxembourg Gardens.  But first, we went back to the Tuileries to take in the Louvre and environs one last time.  We had time to study the buildings and to notice that each section is vastly different, each Louie having added his own wing to the palace in his own time.  We noticed a lot of things we had never noticed before.  And we snoozed in the green chairs.

I posted this picture on Instagram with the caption,
"So bummed to be leaving Paris."  It was true!!

There is a nice bathroom at the corner of the garden, but you have to pay to use it.  Ruby had the bright idea to go in to the Orangerie Museum instead, since she and Golda could get in for free.  Scott used the pay bathroom, but I also get into the museum for free, not on purpose, but I asked to go in to look for my daughters, they were taking so long, and the docent, a young man with bleached white hair, let me.  I used the restroom and took a quick, illicit peek at the Renoirs before exiting to find the girls outside.  Turns out, the reason they had taken so long was similar to mine:  taking one last peek at some paintings.  I couldn't love these girls more!

Incidentally, I had one of my famous crying moments when I remarked to the girls and Scott how wonderful I thought it was that students could get into all the museums free, and concerts for a reduced price.  I started bawling when I thought about how France wants its young people to be educated and edified by the arts.  So much so that they give all these opportunities to students for free.  All this for free, if you care!  It gets me all choked up.

 Later, as we were eating our paninis and pastries at the Luxembourg gardens, we - or at least I - started to get restless.  We only had a few more hours, and even though we were in this idyllic setting, there were parts of the city that we had left unexplored.  The others were nice enough to indulge me in one last sprint across the city, with two Metro transfers, to see Pere Lachaisse Cemetery, where many famous people are buried.  We didn't have enough time to search for all their graves, but we did follow the other Americans who were holding their phones in front of them, leading them to Jim Morrison's grave.  Unimpressive, but iconic...kinda like the Mona Lisa.  And since we didn't see that this trip, Jim Morrison's grave became our Mona Lisa.  Check that off the list.  (If you go to Pere LAchaisse, get off at the Gambetta Metro stop instead of the Pere Lachaisse stop.  That gets you to the top of the cemetery, and to a much more interesting neighborhood.  When you enter the cemetery, a lot of the famous graves are to your left, along the far perimeter.  Take a picture of the cemetery map to guide you.  It's not easy to find certain graves.)  There are no signs.

 I have never seen inside of a crypt.  It was interesting and spooky, complete with cobwebs and neglected altars.

 One last chocolate chaud at Une Dimanche a Paris, this time without getting locked in the bathroom!

 One last crepe at Mich Sandwich, which rhymes in French, by the way.  Meesh Sandweesh!

 We felt like we were pushing it time-wise to get to the airport, but we had plenty of time.  Our cabbie for the ride to Orly was from Cote d'Ivoire (Ivory Coast).  When we aid we were from Utah, he asked if we were Mormon.  Then he said, "That's OK!  In Cote d'Ivoire, we like to have four wives!"  Oh geez, when will our ancient polygamist past be forgotten!?  But our guy was serious in his acceptance of us, and told us that Christians, Muslims and those who practice animism, live in harmony in Ivory Coast.  He invited us to drive there with him from France next year.  He said he and his buddies send their wives (one each, because they can't afford more!) and children home to Ivory Coast by plane, then they drive together to save money on airfare.  He said, if they are very strong, they can make the drive in a week, southwest through Spain, across the Strait of Gibraltar, and around the western edge of Africa to their homeland for a much-anticipated and all-too-rare visit home.  Then they come back to France, where they speak the language because of French colonialism in their homeland, to earn a living by long hours in cabs or, for the less established, selling Eiffel Tower keychains to fortunates like myself.  His main goal, of course, was to make sure his children are educated and in a position to enjoy an easier life than his.

Man, I wish we could take him up on that road trip offer!

 So after a brief flight, we found ourselves back at the Generator Hostel in Copenhagen, for a solid night's sleep before the next, very long leg of the trip.  Our room was so comfortable!  We slept in until 8.  We walked with our bags to the canal, where we turned our faces to the sun, which had been elusive last week during our time in Copenhagen.  He sat along the canal trying to absorb the wonderful thought, "I am in Copenhagen.  I am here in Copenhagen."  Then we reluctantly went to the airport.

With an 11-hour flight ahead of us, and no food service on that flight, we made sure to grab something to eat.  In our time in Denmark, we hadn't tried the ubiquitous hot dogs that are available everywhere, so that's what I got.  It was good, if pedestrian.  The buns are like wonder bread.  The Danes do not do bread like the French, that's for sure!  But the hot dog was wrapped in bacon and topped with mayo and fried onions, so who cares about the bun!

 Going home is sad.

 Really sad.

 The flight was comfortable, but I didn't sleep as much as I should have.  We got to Los Angeles at 5:00 in the afternoon, with no choice but to drive home.  We saw the drive as part of the adventure, and were excited to be on our way home to our precious kids.  The first couple of hours were grueling, though, because I was super-sleepy.  Scott, there was no way he could drive.  He would have fallen asleep instantly.  I kept myself awake fine in the L. A. traffic, but once things slowed down, I had to pull over for a mini-nap twice.  I feared we would never make it home, with all the 15-minute breaks!  After we stopped at In-n-Out burger in Barstow, where I slept in the car, I felt more confident.  Scott stayed awake quite a bit to entertain me, while the girls slept.  The drive ended up only taking 11 hours, which is pretty good, all things considered.   Our mantra was that the drive was totally worth the cheap tickets, and it was!  I was fine for most of the way.  I'm just ultra careful about driving drowsy.  Too much is at stake to take chances.  I'm vigilant.

We pulled in the driveway at 7:10 AM, and Golda bolted inside to take a shower.  We woke up the kids, who were so happy to see us, and turned right around to take Golda to school at 7:30.  Ruby had seminary at 8, Scott left for work, I got the other kids to school, and real life swooped in with a vengeance.  But you know what?  I was happy about it.  We were lucky to have gone on this trip, and we were even luckier to come home safely, to find that everything at home was fine.  Our prayers were answered, that we would all be safely together again, so I didn't actually have a thing to complain about.  Since we hardly took any clothes on the trip, the laundry was done by 9, and it was time to play with those angelic little babies I had missed so much.

Jetlag, whatever.  People who get to travel don't get to complain.  Wednesday, our forst day back, was a day of celebration and reflection.  It was a good day!