lost and found

On our last day in Paris, returning from a morning trip to see Monet's gardens at Giverny, came one of the low points of the trip.  It was sweltering, the driver let us out on an unfamiliar street blocks away from where we asked to be dropped off, and in the confusion Sweetpea's camera was inadvertently left on the floor of the minivan.  We realized within minutes what had happened but the driver was long gone even though we ran back to try and chase him down.  As we stood sweating on the sidewalk, Sweetpea tried valiantly to be brave but her devastation was hard to watch.

We had observed her carefully setting up her shots over the course of the trip:

a purple wall in Burano,

the waterlilies in Monet's pond,

macro shots of ladybugs and butterflies on a mountaintop in Italy.

Sometimes days would go by and she would forget to bring the camera on outings, other times English hubby or I would have not only our own cameras slung over a shoulder, but her pink point-and-shoot stuffed in our pockets as well.  As well as her sweater or various hair accessories that she would blindly shove at us when she was tired of wearing them.  The source of irritation for every parent.

I ran to find a taxi and headed to the tourist office to see if the driver had returned there but they would not be seeing him until the next day.  I left our contact information, and we spent a frustrating afternoon discovering that most of the museums, where we thought we might take advantage of the air conditioning before catching a train to London that evening, were closed.  Disgruntled, we ate 12 Euro bowls of ice cream back at the hotel (air conditioned), gathered our bags and hit the road.

I sent a few emails to the tourist office, with responses that promised to send the camera if it was found.  After a week, I tried contacting the Paris office of lost articles and posted an ad on Craigslist.  I figured it was worth a shot, but the responses were negative and we resigned ourselves to the fact that the camera was gone.  Sweetpea occasionally grieved but was happy with a disposable film camera for the rest of the trip.

Three weeks later, after we returned home, I send out one last email.  It turned out the driver had turned in the camera weeks before but a miscommunication or perhaps the language barrier had prevented us from being informed.  Now, how to get it back to us, since they refused to arrange a courier?  English hubby remembered that a colleague happened to be in Paris and sent an email to ask if it would be possible for him to visit the tourist office and retrieve the camera.  The next day we received a photo of Sweetpea's new best friend triumphantly holding her pink camera.  It will be delivered to her in a few days.

Funny old world, this.

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Tonight, I published my last post as a Mortal Muse.  I'm filled with mixed feelings - sadness at leaving a group of women I have grown to love and respect over the past year, but also optimism that other opportunities will come knocking at the doors I leave ajar.  Time to put on my shoes and see what comes next....