Oddly enough (given my Francophile tendencies), this next step in our journey wasn’t my idea. When I visited Paris in January 2019, I spent an afternoon exploring the city with my dear friend Virginie, her friend and her friend’s baby. Virginie’s friend told me about how much she struggled to make her way around the stroller-unfriendly city. I made a mental note to wait until any (potential) children of mine were older before coming for a visit. However, Tony had never been to Paris and he thought it was a great time to show Hannah and Patrick the city. I couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to join them and see my Parisian friends. Tony and I arranged for his family, my family and our parents to travel from Vienna to Paris…by overnight train (also Tony’s idea).

The train trip from Hradčovice to Staré Město and then on to Vienna went much more smoothly than the journey in. There were no frantic transfers this time, which made a huge difference. We enjoyed a tasty dinner at a restaurant near the train station and a relaxing play session at a nearby park. Then it was time to board the night train, which was a whole gong show of a process. It’s one thing to board a train with a single suitcase and a carry on, but another thing entirely to board with two big suitcases, one massive bag full of baby Bjorn cribs and blackout tents, a duffel bag jammed with baby stuff, two backpacks, a diaper bag, a lunch bag that fell out of the duffel, two strollers, and two confused and screaming babies. We had only a few minutes, because trains actually seem to run on schedule in Vienna. With Děda’s help, we managed to heave everything onto the train, hop on board, and then jam everything and everyone into the private compartment that Chris and I were sharing with the boys. Děda joined Babi and Tony’s family in a sleeper compartment in a different wagon. Chris and I were alone with our mountain of stuff and our still-screaming babies.

After the attendant set up our bunk bed, we played a stressful game of bag Tetris while trying to keep the boys from repeatedly falling off the bottom bunk as the train rocked and rolled. Once we were more or less organized, we changed the boys into their pyjamas and gave them their night bottles. We did our best to keep some semblance of a bedtime routine. The air conditioning in our toasty little compartment only worked on the top bunk, where Chris slept. The boys had to sleep with me on the bottom bunk, since it wasn’t safe for them on top. Ian conked out almost right away, sticking his little bum bum in the air. Eric spent about an hour crawling up and down the bunk, jiggling everything that could be jiggled, and trying to climb all over his sleeping brother. He finally passed out at an awkward angle across the bed. I started looking for a way to contort myself in a sleeping position around both boys. I had just gotten somewhat comfortable when there was a loud knock at the door. A police officer opened the door and shined a light on us, asking who was in the compartment. I told the officer it was just us and two babies, and he said okay and left. By some miracle, the boys stayed asleep.

We arrived in Paris with two underslept and understandably cranky babies. We spent the first few hours in the city doing lap after lap with the strollers around the Gare de l’Est, while my brother waited in interminable lines to arrange Navigo passes. Nothing involving bureaucracy in France is ever quick or efficient, as Tony discovered. We found a plug for the bottle warmer, so at least the babies were cheered up by some nice warm milk.

We spent a few hours at a playground near our Airbnb, since we couldn’t check in right away. Eric and Ian crawled around on the ground and put stone after stone in their mouths. The boys were at an awkward stage for travelling to Paris. They were too wiggly to sit contentedly in their strollers and stare at everything, but they weren’t yet full-time bipeds. Parisian parks generally don’t have grass, or at least grass that you’re allowed to sit on. This made it tricky to find them nice places to roam about. On the plus side, there was a lovely creperie next to the playground, where I changed three diapers in half an hour on the reasonably clean floor beside the toilet.

Eric had a complete meltdown that evening after we had checked into our apartment. He woke up from his afternoon stroller nap and was just done with everything, poor lad. He calmed down during a stroll with Babi and Děda around the 11th arrondissement, as Chris and I scrambled to get the cribs and tents set up for the night. My friends Virginie and Hélène came over as we ate (more crepes) for dinner. It was so good to see them! We hosed the boys down in the shower and put them to bed, then had an epic gabfest. The Paris trip started to feel like a good idea again.

The following day, we ran into a typical complication resulting from a two-nap schedule: the day disappeared on us. The boys needed at least one crib nap, after such long days of travel, and they certainly snoozed like world champions. By the time they woke up from their morning nap, it was already lunch time. We got them ready as quickly as possible and joined Tony and his family for some ice cream on the Champs-Élysées.

Next on the agenda was a boat ride along the Seine. Virginie kindly bought us all tickets, and we boarded the bateaux mouches. When Virginie proposed this idea, I thought the boys might sit happily on our laps and take in the scenery. Well, they sat happily for about three minutes. They then spent the rest of the boat ride crawling around on the dirty floor, climbing up and down and up and down and up and down the stairs, and putting anything they could find into their mouths. I had to stop them repeatedly from trying to crawl through the portholes that led to the Seine and from mouthing the scooter parked beside their strollers. I don’t think either Chris or I saw a bit of the city. The rest of my family, however, had a swell time.

I had a vision of trying to take a family photo somewhere in the vicinity of the Eiffel tower. That vision died because it was time for the afternoon stroller nap. Chris and I, along with Babi and Děda, decided to walk with the boys in the direction of our apartment until they woke up from their nap, then take public transit. Ian, our generally better sleeper, nodded off right away. Eric just fussed and fussed and fussed. We eventually gave up on him sleeping and popped into the metro once Ian opened his eyes.

Taking the metro with the strollers was quite the ordeal. If we had planned things better, we would have just stuck to buses the whole time. The buses are accessible, whereas the vast majority of metro stations are not. We had to carry the fully-loaded strollers up and down endless sets of stairs and balance them precariously on escalators. If the station didn’t have a door for mobility devices, we had to pass each stroller and all our bags over the turnstiles. One time, I unwisely thought I could get through a turnstile with a boy in a stroller. I got stuck, of course. I had to untangle myself, the kid, the stroller and all the bags, and still somehow end up on the other side of the turnstile because I couldn’t scan my Navigo pass twice. It was terribly awkward, but we made it through with a lot of assistance.

That night, Babi and Děda generously volunteered to babysit the grandchildren. After we had put the kids to bed, Virginie and Hélène took me, Chris, Tony and Alana to a restaurant in the Latin Quarter. It was such a thrill to have some grown up time on the town. Chris also got the chance to take night pictures of the Eiffel Tower.

The next day, we joined Tony’s family at the Luxembourg Gardens after the boys’ morning nap. I had some vague memory of grass at the gardens, so I thought the boys could crawl on that. There is indeed grass, but it’s blocked off. Once again, the boys got covered in a fine layer of Parisian dust. At least there was lots of shade. We managed to take a family photo of Babi and Děda with all their grandchildren in front of the Medici Fountain. Nobody cried and everyone more or less looked in the direction of the camera. Woohoo!

We walked from the Luxembourg Gardens over to the Louvre, but not to see world-famous artwork. The Jardin des Tuileries was listed online as a great place for children, so we turned left at the museum and headed straight for a playground. It ended up being a delightful place to spend a few hours. Hannah and Patrick had a grand old time on a nifty looking play structure, Ian had a snooze, and Eric did some exploring. As we headed back to the apartment, it occurred to me that Chris may be the only tourist to have visited Paris for three days and never entered a single famous building.

For our last night in Paris, Chris stayed at the apartment with the kids, and I joined my friend and his girlfriend back at the Louvre for drinks at the restaurant in front of the pyramid. I had met this friend in the studio audience of my favourite French television show back in January 2020, before the Covid shutdown. It was wonderful to see him again and to meet his girlfriend. I no longer have time to watch the program, but I love maintaining the connections that I made through the show.

We woke up to the news that our flight from Paris to Montreal had been delayed for several hours as a result of computer issues with the Air Canada system. It turned out to be a major blessing in disguise. Our original flight was quite early, and I have no idea how we would have packed up all our gear and hauled everybody and everything to the airport on time. Babi and Děda travelled by van with all our stuff, and Chris and I took the train with the boys. Tony’s family was staying in Paris for a few more days, so they happily headed off to Disneyland Paris.

I got to show Chris the absolute chaos that is the Gare du Nord. Signs galore! We looked everywhere for an elevator for the strollers. We finally found one that only went up, and we needed to go down. After walking around in circles a bajillion times looking for the down elevator, we just gave up and took the escalator. I felt a tremendous sense of relief on the train out of the city. The saying should be “Paris is always a good idea, except with post-potato-phase and pre-walking twin babies.”

After checking in and going through security, we did our usual stroller loops around the terminal in an attempt to get the boys to take their morning nap. They both slept this time, thank goodness. Ian took a delightfully long afternoon nap on the flight to Montreal. Eric walked up and down and up and down and up and down the aisle with Chris, then finally dozed off towards the end of the flight. I won this round of seat-mate lottery.

We raced through customs in Montreal and managed to catch our rebooked flight to Ottawa. Ian had gone through almost all the clothes in my carry on bag at that point, having gotten milk and food all over everything. He fussed a bit when we first got on the plane, but the rumble and roar of the takeoff roll lulled him right to sleep.

The boys’ first trip to Europe was hectic, intense and stressful, but also incredibly amazing. I’m so grateful that we had the opportunity to introduce the boys to travel and to their extended family. They may end up enthusiastic globetrotters like us, or they may prefer to stick closer to home. I guess we’ll find out. I hope to take them on many more adventures throughout their childhood, both locally and abroad.