We got a call from Heathrow Airport this morning. It's my daughter telling me there's been a slight change, and she will be getting into Cleveland an hour later than originally scheduled. She sounded frazzled but okay. Will I tell her friend Svetlana, who is picking her up? Of course. Svetlana called a few minutes later, telepathically knowing that she should touch base to confirm Helga's arrival tonight. All will be well.
"I hate airports," Helga said.
She made the flight from Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris to London Heathrow this morning as planned, but she didn't have enough time to get to the connecting flight to Washington, so she booked another plane to New York with a connection to Cleveland. All will be well.
I talked to her Monday afternoon, about 10:00 pm their time, after her first day in Paris. They had been to Notre Dame and the little island in the Seine (Ile de France?) after a fast trip by rail from London. She was getting a cold, but she was in love with the hotel on the Rue de Banquier, with its (French) doors opening onto a balcony overlooking a pretty courtyard. The group had just returned from dinner at a nice Greek restaurant with fabulous lighting and an amazing ceiling, where they ate wonderful food, and danced, and everyone had a good time.
They were going to the Musee D'Orsay the next day, then take time for individual investigations, and a few people were taking a side-trip to Versailles, which she would skip. Things were going well, and Helga was having fun despite her sniffles.
Today will be a long day in the air and on the ground, and by tonight (3:00 am Paris time) Helga will be at a bachelorette party in Richland County, Ohio, talk about culture shock. And all will be well.
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