The next day our luxurious jet touched down at the Harrod’s airport hanger just outside of London.  Officers boarded and almost apologetically checked our passports.  That was it — no lines, no pat downs, and no removal of clothing; just kind smiles as they left, wishing us a lovely holiday.  Although we would spend the majority of our time in London, I could not bear to be so close to my beloved Paris and not visit.  Our extended family graciously arranged for a black Mercedes SUV to take us to the St. Pancras railway station.  Victorian architecture encased a modern array of shops as well as Europe’s longest Champagne bar.  It was surreal to be in an open air station.  Standing inside, I gazed up in wonder at the grey sky, as huge snowflakes fell upon us this surprisingly frigid April day.  We stopped for a bite to eat and I remember being perplexed that there were absolutely no trash cans ANYwhere.  I just could not understand why there were none to be found.  I now know it was for security reasons; that way no one would be able to drop some type of explosive device inside one of the bins.  We got our tickets for the Eurostar, a train which would take us into the Channel Tunnel (or “Chunnel”) under the ocean to France.  The train was well-arranged, with some cars having groups of four facing each other around tables.  It was particularly nice if you wanted to get something to eat or drink.  The last car sold snacks, beer, and wine.  Burk and I each tried a 1664, the French beer founded in the year after which it is named.  We both enjoyed the pale lager as we pulled out of the station, and before we knew it we entered a tunnel, gliding along at 99 miles per hour.  I am claustrophobic and was not scared in the least.  At its lowest point it is 380 feet below sea level and, at 23.5 miles, it has the longest undersea portion of any tunnel in the world.  For the cost of just around 100 euros, we found ourselves a couple of hours later at the beautiful Gare du Nord train station in the Île-de-France.  Slightly older than its British counterpart, it was built in 1864.  After taking a taxi to our hotel we decided to relax awhile in our room.  Our little one proved to be a perfect international traveler without fussing even once!  This is one of my favorite photos — Maris in Paris “reading” Le Parisien.  We were so blessed to have been invited to go on this incredible trip and my heart was truly full.  Paris, where we had spent our honeymoon, I was now getting to experience with both of my loves — my handsome husband and our beautiful little baby doll.  The American historian and archivist Mary Ritter Beard once said, “Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.”  I can attest to that.  My first visit to Paris changed me forever.  It was so great being able to return, this time by voyage under the sea.