30 Decembre (Mercredi) - When we arise in the morning, we always make coffee. But, unlike at home, where we have a Cuisinart Coffee Maker, here we have to use a French Press Coffee Maker. The larger Press makes about three or four cups, while the smaller one makes bout a cup and a half. If you're not familiar with the French Press, it's really quite simple. First you pull out the cap and press. Into the glass pot, you place enough coursely ground cofee for however many cups you want to make. Then, you pour in the appropriate amount of boiling water and stir. You replace the cap and press, and let it sit for about five minutes. After five minutes, you press down until the press is as far down as it can go, then pour yourself a very good cup of coffee. The press pushes the grounds to the bottom of the pot so all you get is a cup of groundless coffee. We use the French Press here because that's all there is, there is no other kind of coffee maker in the apartment. Lucky for us, we already knew how to use it. Here's a video for making French Press coffee.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Paris Snow 30-31 Decembre
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Paris Snow 28-29 Decembre
28 Decembre (Lundi) - Remembrance of things past: To get through these doors, you need to punch a series of digits into this DigiCode machine. M. Perez, the apartment owner, had sent us the digicode in an email before we left, so we thought we were set. Ah ha! When we arrived at the apartment, we punched in the code and pulled the door. Nothing. We tried it again, and again, nothing. We were about to try a third time when a little old lady came out and we discovered that you don't pull the doors, in spite of the handle, you push the door closest to the digicode machine. We started to enter but the litle old lady wasn't having it. She wanted a full explanation of who we were and why we were trying to enter HER building. I finally had to tell her the digicode before she would let us enter, and even then, rather reluctantly.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Paris Snow 26-27 Decembre
26 Decembre (Samedi) - Today was very special. We got to meet, live and in person, the beautiful Marie Isabelle Reed who puts out a blog called, The French Factrice. She is very pretty in the picture that used to be on the blog and is now on her Facebook entries. But she is really beautiful in person. She could easily be one of the top models in the world of fashion. She has one of those sparkling personalities that make you glad you know her. And she laughs...a lot. We learned that she and Robb seem to have a lot in common, as well. At first, it seemed our plan to meet was not going to happen. She called to say that she was going to lunch with her in-laws and would then get here around 14h30, calling first to let us know she was on her way. Robb and I decided to run out to the Monoprix for a few things. We came back to the apartment and putzed around for a while and then, suddenly realized it was already after 15h00. I was sure we had missed her call and the meeting would not happen, but a few minutes later, she called to say she was at the Bastille and on her way to the apartment. After the obligatory nickel tour, we spent several delightful hours chatting, drinking wine and laughing.
27 Decembre (Dimanche) - Robb has been chomping-at-the-bit to get to FNAC to buy some CDs, so we walked up to la Place de la Bastille where there is a branch of FNAC next door to l'Opéra Bastille. It wasn't as far as I had thought, but it was really cold and FNAC was closed. We stood around shivering for a while and decided to walk back to Monoprix and get the stuff we needed. We bought a lot of cheese and found a very nice hors d'oeuvre. By the time I got back to the apartment, I was exhausted. Apparently, that is going to be the ongoing theme from now on. Not just because it's cold (which by now you know I hate), but because the emphysema has advanced that far. We had the cheese hors d'oeuvres with some toasts and wine. As Robb is wont to say, so civilized.
À la prochaine, mes amis
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Paris Snow 24-25 Decembre
24 Decembre (Jeudi) - So far, the most adventurous we'd gotten was to walk up to BHV (a huge department store) and, though it doesn't seem like much, that's a pretty good walk. And we still have to walk back. It took us quite a while, because Robb wanted to check out every shoe store we passed, and there were quite a few along the way. After walking through the regular store to get warm, we crossed the street to BHV Homme (the men's store). We each bought a stocking cap (is that what they're called?) and Robb bought a couple of shirts. Then we walked up rue des Archives to Les Marrioners. I thought we were just going to have a glass of wine, but Robb, as usual, was hungry. He ordered something called a "Croquita", which turned out to be a kind of Croque Monsieur with herbs. I had a couple bites. It was delicious.
We had dinner again at Fontaine Sully and discovered that they're open 24/7, somewhat surprising for a French restaurant.
We're still having trouble with our French SIM cards. Mine sort of works, but Robb's is for "Urgences Seulement" (Emergencies Only). The Canadian company from which I purchased them is trying to get Orange to bring them online, but is not having much luck. Quel surprise.
25 Decembre (Vendredi) - The day got off to a great start; blue skies and sunshine and tempertures a little better than freezing. Today, we accomplished a couple of things. Well, tonight, really. We walked up to the taxi station because you can't just flag one down, even if you could figure out their lights. I was going to ask him to drive by way of la Place de la Concorde, but then I thought, well, it's the most logical way to go. Yeah, I know, expecting logic from a Frenchman, what nerve! But sure enough, that's the way he went, so we finally got to see the Champs-Elysées with its beautiful lights, as well as the Grand Roue de Paris. Les Champs-Elysées is even more beautiful in person than in all the pictures and videos. Here's a video featuring the Marché de Noël. There were a lot more lights and decorations on rue de Rivoli than I was expecting, also. L'Hôtel de Ville is spectacular and if I can force myself to go out into the cold to do it, I will take some video and a picture or two. Paris seems to be getting more and more commercial.
The main reason we had taken the taxi was to get to la Tour Eiffel for Christmas dinner. We could not believe the number of people who were there milling about with apparently no idea where they were going or why. Also, they've setup barriers all over the place making it the most frustrating experience I've ever had there. We asked a guy who seemed to be in charge of one of the barrier stations how to get up to Restaurant 58. The last time we were here, it was named Altitude 95 That alone was very confusing. I knew it had been renovated but I didn't know they had also changed the name. I'm not even sure it's owned by the same company. He sent us to the information booth, which he described as "a little hut". There we discovered that we would have to pay to take the elevator up to the restaurant. Talk about a scam! Not only that, but the elevator doesn't stop on the first floor, on which the restaurant is located. Noooo, they make you go to the second floor where you have the option of catching the elevator down to the first floor, or walking down the stairs. The reason for that, as explained by our waiter (from Texas no less), is because the company that operates la Tour Eiffel wants you to wander around the second floor in the hope that you'll happen into one of their souvenir shops and buy stuff. We decided to use the stairs (can you hear the buzzer?). It seemed like an interminable climb down, but we did eventualy get there and found the Restaurant 58.
We asked about sitting by the window and were told that people had called three months ago for that privilege and there was no way it was going to happen for us. We were seated at a table that was rather isolated from the rest, and the only view we had was of the waiters running (literally running) up and down the stairs with their orders. We were no sooner seated than we were presented with a glass of champagne (Alain DuCasse if you're interested) which was okay, but not great. There was already on the table a bottle of Evian water and a bottle of Bordeaux vin rouge.
The first course, choice of three, was foie gras. The presentation was fantastic, the foie gras, not so much. Our choice for the entrée was Noix de Coquilles Saint-Jacques. It came with some kind of vegetable, but we're still not certain what it was. There was also a small serving of polenta with chestnuts. We ordered a bottle of chardonnay to replace the red. It was a nice wine, but not memorable. The entrée was very good. The third course, was desert. I had a pear with chestnut icing. It was more like pear ice cream than a fruit. It was delicious. Robb had a rum cake. Although none of the courses could have been considered large, they were very filling, and neither of us could finish our desert. We finished with café.
After our meal, we walked out to the taxi stand. We barely had gotten there when a taxi pulled up beside us. Some jerk tried to push in front of us and take it, but the driver shooed him away and motioned for us to get in. Then we had a very scenic drive along the Seine back to the apartment. I'm glad we had dinner on la Tour Eiffel because it was a special event, but, for a number of reasons, I don't think I would ever do it again.
You may have noticed I haven't taken as many pictures as usual. Freezing weather is the reson for that. Have I mentioned how much I hate the cold?
À la prochaine, mes amis
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Paris Snow - 16-24 Decembre 2009
Saturday, October 03, 2009
Newfoundland
Best case scenario - Our Air France 747 Flt 95 takes off from Miami International Airport at 6:00PM on 16 Septembre, headed to CDG Airport in Paris, where after a four hour layover, we would board our flight to Barcelona, Spain. Two weeks in Barcelona and then, by train, to Montpellier, France for a couple days of sightseeing. Another train to Toulouse, where we would spend two weeks, and finally a flight to Paris for one month before returning home.
Actual case scenario - Three hours out of Miami, I passed out and became quite ill. Doctors were called and I was carried to the back of the plane where I was cared for until it was determined that I was too ill to continue to Europe. The plane made an emergency landing in St. John's, Newfoundland and I was rushed by ambulance to the Health Care Sciences General Hospital, where I was admitted to the Emergency Room. I remember everything from being carried to the back, up to the point where I was sitting at the front of the plane in a wheelchair. Other than that, it's just a blank until I was in the ER. After getting the initial ministrations, a doctor came in and really made my day. He proceeded to explain all my options for dying. DYING!! The conversation went something like this: You're in poor condition and we expect you may deteriorate. If that's the case, do you want us to let you go? There are things we are required to do to keep you alive if you so choose. He even went so far as to ask if I wanted Robb to make the final decision. It's interesting to note here, that they just assumed that Robb and I are partners. There were no questions asked about how we were related, or if we were related. They simply accepted it as fact. I replied that I was in no way ready to go anywhere and they should use whatever methods were available to keep me alive until it was determined there was just no reason to continue.
As it happened, there were two separate incidents during the first night when I was rather certain that I had spent my last day on earth. After surviving the second, I was petty much sure that I was going to make it through. Now, the really strange thing about those two incidents is that for my entire life, I have always thought that if I knew I was going to die, I would probably shit myself in terror. The fact turned out to be a totally different feeling. For whatever the reason, I was quite willing and ready to go. I felt at peace and my only concern, really, was for Robb and how it would all affect him.
There was a lot of concern about the H1N1, Swine Flu Virus because until they checked my statistics and blood samples, no one could enter my room without a gown, a mask and rubber gloves. Including Robb.
I was kept in the ER for a couple of days because the hospital was jammed and there were no other available rooms. Then, although I didn't need it, I was wheeled into the ICU department because they had an open bed and they needed my space in the ER. I spent a couple of days in ICU and was moved to CCU because I was the healthiest person and they again needed my bed space. I only spent a few hours in CCU before being moved for the final time to bed 5191B on the fourth floor.
During my time in ER, ICU and CCU, my throat was so parched from breathing nearly pure oxygen through my mouth, that I couldn't talk. I could barely utter a single word and most of the time I had to repeat it. It was extremely painful and, as you might imagine, I tried not to talk at all. I was also poked full of IV needles, which along with water and juice, were my only sources of nutrients for the first four or five days. I had my first "meal" in 5191B. Although, they brought a whole tray of food, the only thing I could even think about eating was the soup. That was a good choice because it really was quite good. Slowly but surely, I started to eat a bit of regular food, but it wasn't very good and I only ate it because I realized I needed something solid if I was ever going to gain any strength. Until I got to the fourth floor, I could not even get out of bed on my own, so I had to use one of those damned urine things (you know the kind I mean). Lordy, I hate those because I always get more pee on me and the bed than anything else.
Okay. Now all you Americans should have noticed something that DID NOT occur at all. At no time was Robb or I ever asked about medical insurance or how we intended to pay for all this. Money was not approached in any way, shape or form. I was never contacted about paying the bill (quite hefty) until I had already been released. And, even then, it was not so much a demand to pay, as much as if I could pay, and what kind of arrangements could be made to do so. I defy all you anti-social insurance dimwits to show me a single example of that in the wonderful United States! In fact, I can show proof of people who could not pay, being put into taxiis and dropped on the street because the hospitals here would not accept them and actually paid to have them taken away. Nice moral values we possess in the US. Sorry people from foreign lands but that's real life in the United States of America!
Meanwhile, there is attached to the hospital, a very nice hostel (the Agnes Cowan Hostel) and Robb managed to get himself a room there, which meant that he didn't have to go somewhere downtown and rent a hotel room and then try to find his way back to the place every day. It was a real time saver. Actually, I was quite proud of Robb. He somehow managed to handle all this with relative ease, though he did say he was panicked a little. He even went out a couple of times to check out the local area, without getting lost, and found himself a little mall where he bought some clothes. He came up to the room one day and told me about a restaurant he had found downtown. It sounded nice and turned out to be great.
Alrighty....let's talk about The Room. There were four beds in The Room, two by the doorway and two by the windows. Somehow, I was lucky enough to get a bed next to the window which gave me my very first view of St. John's. And what a view it was. St. John's is a beautiful place. Lots of unused real estate, rolling hills and the town itself (which I discovered later) is like a very extreme San Francisco; meaning that almost all the streets are either straight up or straight down, very few were level. Back to.....The Room, three of the beds were occupied. As you walk into The Room, the first bed on the left was empty, having just been vacated that morning (I arrived in The Room around 7:00 or 8:00 PM). The first bed on the right was occupied by Mr. Peter Healey. I was next to Peter, in the window bed. The bed across from me (second on the left) was occupied by Gordon Christopher Roebothan.
Mr. Roebothan had had a stroke several years ago and, though he could hear perfectly, could not understand a word. Imagine hearing someone speak a language you don't know; you hear it perfectly but you don't understand what you're hearing. On the other hand, he could read and understand everything he saw written. He had a large pad on which people would write whatever it was they wanted to impart to him, and he would reply in the same manner. He had been a teacher before the stroke. Why he was currently in the hospital, and had been there for three months, I never did find out. But except one day when he got no visitor, he was always upbeat and pleasant. As far as I could make out, his family was in the process of moving him to an Assisted Living Facility, which I gathered was very nice and, I think, paid for by the Canadian Social Insurance program. He didn't seem to object so I guess they were just trying decide which one it would be.
Peter Healey. Peter Healey. Oh yes, Peter Healey. He was a piece of work. He was maybe sixty-ish with thick gray hair. From what I was able to garner from him and his visitors, he had been a rather successful contractor. He had been diagnosed with cancer in most of his major organs, especially the liver, and had been sent home six months ago with three weeks to live (has anyone else noticed how often that seems to happen?). In addition to the cancer, he had an extremely painful case of arthritis in his left shoulder for which he received morphine shots, every four hours, that seemed to give only a few minutes of relief. Sometimes, after receiving his shot, he would fall asleep for an hour or so, not always. During the daylight hours it wasn't so bad. But after 11:00PM, was when the fun began. He would "call" the nurse(s) every few minutes asking for either more morphine or pain pills or something to eat or drink. He would wake from a very short sleep, screaming in pain. All night long, he would jump up and turn the lights on and off, on and off. He would sing out loud. He would make phone calls in the middle of the night. He would try to re-arrange everyone's privacy curtains. He would move the furniture around. He would putz around in his bedside table doing god-only-knows what and making a hell of a racket. In spite of his lack of comprehending how to live in a shared environment, and his very annoying night time habits, he was a likable guy. He was rather child-like really, which according to his daughter Charlene, was caused by all the cancer drugs and treatments. Several times when he tried to open my privacy curtain, I would tell him to stop and put it back. He always looked like a kid whose hand had been slapped, and ask, "Put it back?" Then he would do it and go back to his bed for a short while.
The fourth and final bed was occupied by at least six different people during my week-long stay in The Room. With the exception of one guy, everyone who took that bed eventually went to a private room. The most interesting guy was John Smith, Yorkshire. Yep, that's how he told you his name. He had moved to Canada in 1957, but sounded like he had just that minute gotten off a plane from Yorkshire, England. He often told the nurses to speak slower because he wasn't used to the language. And he was very demanding. In the morning, he would bellow, "Kitchen", and expect someone to come running in to take his order, which was; dry cereal, preferably bran flakes with milk made specially from dried milk. He was loud but he was funny. I was kind of sorry to see him go to his private room.
Needless to say, I didn't get a whole lot of sleep while I was in The Room. If Peter wasn't keeping me awake, it would be the nurses coming in for blood pressure, temperature readings, or giving us medicine. My nightly habit was very much like this: sleep for about an hour between 11:00PM and midnight, sit up and stare out the window, get up and sit in my chair, lay back down and stare out the window or at the ceiling. Sometime around 6:00AM, I would fall asleep just in time to be awakened by the night nurse wanting her final pressure readings before she went off duty at 7:30AM. All the hospital staff were working 12-hour days, 7:30 to 7:30, four days per week. Everyone with whom I dealt on the staff was really nice. Newfoundlanders have to be the nicest people I've ever met. Although, having stated that, they are a study in contrasts, because as nice as they are and as helpful and friendly as they can be (they would frequently go out of their way to take you where you were going instead of just telling you how to get there), they were like Parisians. If they were walking to a place, the straight line to that place was their space. If you crossed that space, they felt no remorse at all in kicking you out of their way. Many times, when Robb was pushing me in a wheelchair, we would have to detour around them because it would have been their space and they were not about to move aside.
I was supposed to have been released on Tuesday, 22 Septembre, but for some reason when they checked my oxygen level it had fallen quite sharply. I suspect it was their equipment because I felt no differently at all and was not having any problem breathing. In fact, the previous reading just a hour or two earlier, had been near perfect, as well as the one taken a couple hours after the disaster. Well, they simply would not have me leaving and demanded I go back on oxygen and remain in the hospital. That little decision, alone, cost me over twenty thousand dollars. I did mention this adventure was somewhat costly, didn't I? I was starting to feel like I was in Hotel California....you can check out anytime you want but you can never leave.
On Monday, 28 Septembre, a new resident physician was assigned to my medical team. When he first came in to check me out, he asked how I was feeling. It was about 2:30PM. I told him that I had expected to be released at 2:00PM. The man is a God! He said he would talk to the main doctor and the rest of the team and find out what was going on. Evidently, he is the first man who actually did what he said he would do. Things started moving pretty rapidly after that, and I finally walked out of The Room shortly after 6:00PM. Okay, I suppose I should mention that one of the requirements for me to get out of the hospital, was to arrange for oxygen on the plane back to Fort Lauderdale. That was no easy task because Air Canada would not book the flight without authorization from the hospital and the hospital wouldn't give the authorization until the flight was booked. Catch 22 anyone? After finally getting that sorted out with the help of the Resident God, Robb found a wheelchair and we were off to the hostel.
Now, during all the time previous to my getting out, Robb had complained that the hostel was considerably less than great, and I was expecting to walk into a dark, dinky place. That was not the case at all. Our room was a nice size with blue-ish green walls. There were two single beds separated by a night stand. There was a nice little chest on which there was a small fridge. And there was a nice window, which unfortunately looked out on the parking area in front of the building, cars were parked only a few feet from the window. All in all, it was a nice, comfortable room.
My very first "meal" out of The Room, was breakfast at the Tim Horton Cafeteria in the hospital. I really liked the place. It wasn't just the average restaurant space. It was divided into small, cabin-like rooms. From the cafeteria, there was a wide vista across which we could see a few of the Memorial University buildings on the other side of a small lake. Library, class rooms, Auditorium. Right next to the University was a Canadian Radio building. Breakfast was a cheese croissant (not very good) and a cup of coffee; the first coffee I had consumed since before leaving home two weeks ago. I didn't really miss it. Then it was back to the hostel room and rest for the remainder of the day.
The next day, after breakfast (the regular croissant was much better) and a short rest, Robb and I took a taxi to the local mall. I had been given a prescription for steroids and could only get them at the drugstore in the mall (or any other private drugstore, but that was the closest). The reason for the prescription was that one can't just stop taking that particular steroid, one has to ease off it. I still have eight days to go before I'm finished with it. While waiting for my prescription to be filled, we wandered over to a store just across the way that sold T-shirts, where I bought this one: Front and Back. Did you notice that part that states; I don't have a funny accent? Oops, they do. It's really cool actually. Kind of like a mix of Scottish and Irish brogue.
Back at the hostel, we rested before going to dinner at the restaurant Robb had found a couple of days before. The Cellar was great. The windows were stained glass (not real, but realistic and a nice touch). The interior was large and very classic in design. In the middle of the main room, there was a double-wide stairway and over the stairway was hung the largest crystal chandelier I've ever seen outside of Versailles. There were maybe twenty to twenty-five tables around the room. One other couple (male-female) was seated in the far corner from the entrance to the dining room. Our table was one away from the entrance. I started with a fantastic Cauliflower & Leek Soup, while Robb in an unusual meal switch, had the Hot & Spicy Crab Chowder. We both followed that with the most delicious meal I've eaten in my life; Baked Seafood in Puff Pastry. It was served with a side of vegetables the likes of which I've also never had in my life. I don't know how the chefs prepared them, but the flavor of each vegetable simply burst onto my palate with an intensity I could barely believe. The main dish, seafood of various kinds, was too fantastic to put into words. During dinner, in fact when we walked in the door, they were playing a very mellow soft jazz. After about fifteen minutes of that, they began playing what must have been every song that Ella Fitzgerald ever recorded. We loved it. If for any reason you should find yourself in St. John's, Newfoundland, you must, you MUST, get yourself to the Cellar.
Air Canada only has two flight times out of St. John's; 5:30 AM or 6:00 AM. We had to be at the airport on Thursday morning, 1 Octobre by 4:30 AM which meant we had to be up by 3;30 AM. Very nice for someone who just spent two weeks in hospital. At any rate, we made it and even had time for a quick snack (at Tim Horton's, of course, they were every where) before getting to the security area, where I was met by an attendant with a wheelchair. I kind of liked that because it's always so far and, even under normal circumstances, I always get worn out before I get there. Because they had to set-up the oxygen, I was the first passenger to board the plane. A two hour flight later and we were in Montréal, waiting for the final leg of the trip home.
We were in Fort Lauderdale by 1:00 PM, where Geoff generously picked us up and brought us back to the apartment. Of course, we had nothing in the apartment to eat and had to go shopping, but it was surprisingly easy for me. I thought it would have been harder. I even drove.
Since it's now Saturday, 3 October, I've been home and recovering nicely for a few days. Apparently, the whole episode was caused because I got a flu shot (regular) while I had pneumonia and didn't know it. That combined with the lower oxygen level at higher altitudes, was my undoing. However, in spite of everything, this incident was an eye-opener for us and we're seriously looking into a move to Montréal or Québec City, so our next trip will be to Canada next year. You know, of course about the FREE health care, but there is the money situation, also. Our money is worth a lot more in Canada, so that's a great motivator. Temperature-wise, it's similar to Paris. Plus, we still get the great French ambiance we love.
Yeah, I know the title is a bit melodramatic (in my other blog, I titled this Brush With Death), but hey, you don't die that often. Okay, actually, I have had several close calls with death in my time. When I was a child, I fell out of a moving car. I have no idea how that happened, but I wasn't even banged up much. Walking along a river with some friends when a teenager, one of the guys behind me managed to rip a shot between my legs, that just a little higher would have been the end. Walking in a wooded area when I lived on a farm, I was standing next to a tree, when a bullet plowed into it just inches from my head. Skating in the streets of Philadelphia as a kid, I fell in front of a car which barely made it over me without so much as a touch. I was on the side of the car that was hit dead on in Miami one early morning hour and was rushed to the hospital throwing up blood. So, yeah, I've had my fair share of near-death experiences. But this particular incident is the only one that really seems like it could have been the end of my life.
If you're interested, there are a few more pictures of St. John's in my flickr albums under Newfoundland.
À la prochaine, mes amis
Monday, August 11, 2008
Paris 2008 - Hostages
31 Juillet (Jeudi) - We were up around 08h00 getting everything together for the journey back to the US. We had already changed our schedule several times because I get fidgety when I have to be some place at a specific time. For some reason, I remembered our plane leaving at 14h00, when in fact, it was to leave at 13h40. I believe in getting to the airport at least a couple of hours before flight time because you never know what kind of glitches you're going to encounter.
Robb went down to the gardienne's office to ask her to call a taxi. The taxi dispatcher told them it was too late, we should have called earlier. Another glaring example of how illogical Parisians can be. There are taxis all over the city just sitting, waiting for a fare, so how can it ever be too late to pick up someone? As much as I like the bus drivers, that's how much total disdain I have for the taxi drivers of Paris.
Mme Chicha's mother showed up a little after 10h00 to inspect and begin her clean-up (bed linens, towels, etc.). Evidently, she is the 'crew' who comes in and cleans up before the next renter arrives to take over the place. She is a delightful woman; cheerful, competent and talkative.
Robb had already taken the bags down to the lobby, so after we got the 'all clear' on the shape of the place, we went down. I stayed with the bags while Robb walked down to Place Léon Blum to fetch a taxi. He returned in a few minutes and we were on our way to Orly Sud. We had no trouble getting a couple of baggage carts and then we were off to find the check-in counter for L'Avion. It was, of course, at the far end of the terminal, but check-in was easy and quick. We had about half an hour to kill before boarding began.
The plane was freezing and I spent a good deal of the flight under my blanket. About an hour before we landed in Newark, it warmed up enough for me to feel comfortable.
We were shocked in Newark when we went down to get our bags. Evidently, American airports now charge $3.00 per cart for baggage carts. The very same carts we used for free in France. On the plus side, we didn't have to haul the bags to the Continental ticket counter. We simply pushed the carts to a drop-off area where they tagged them for the next flight and sent them to the proper airline baggage area. We had almost four hours to kill between planes.
The Continental flight to Fort Lauderdale went rather quickly because I managed to sleep most of the way down, even though feeling like I was stuffed into the tiny coach seat after the roomy, comfortable seats on L'Avion.
When Robb went to pick up our bags in Fort Lauderdale, two of them were damaged. The handle was falling off his smaller bag and somehow they had broken the wheels off his large bag. I know they don't handle the bags gently when loading and unloading the planes, but that seemed a bit unreasonable to me. We found a baggage handler who loaded them onto his cart and took them out to the taxi stand.
We were home a little after 01h00, sad to be back in the US, but glad the travel ordeal was behind us.
1 Août (Vendredi) - It was the best of times and it was the worst of times. This, our longest ever stay in Paris, was a very mixed bag. We learned a lot that we previously had not known, and in a way, wish we still didn't know. Paris is not the paradise we had thought. We would still prefer to live there (or some place in France, maybe Toulouse), but we no longer have the blinders on our eyes.
That's especially true if you have any kind of handicap that prevents you from climbing steps or walking long distances. Paris is not handicapped friendly.
We met some really nice people and we had some nice adventures. We saw some places to which we had never ventured before, and were glad we had the chance to see them. We had always avoided La Défense on previous trips, but it was much better than we had expected. Riding buses as much as we did this time, was a new and interesting experience, though not using the métro as often really cut into our ability to get around. I regret that we never tried using the Noctilien, the after hours bus system.
Before we left for Paris, I was anticipating a more interactive experience due to knowing several bloggers. It didn't turn out to be as interactive as I had hoped. They were friendly enough when we contacted them, or joined them for their outings, but it was less than I had hoped. I mean, I know they have their own lives and friends and such, but I kind of thought at least one or two would call (they all had our number) and suggest a get together for a drink or something. No one did that. It was disappointing on a major scale. I suppose we were spoiled by our friends in Toulouse, who went out of their way to invite us for drinks and dinners.
9 Août (Samedi) - We went to our favorite French restaurant in Fort Lauderdale, Sage. Again, we were shocked at the noise level and the place wasn't even crowded. Our favorite waitress, Edith from Limoges, France was on vacation in France. We had a waiter named Pablo, from Equador, who practically hovered over us during the entire meal, which wasn't that good. In fact, we noticed that most of the staff we saw were people we hadn't seen before. We wondered if maybe the place had been sold, but Pablo assured us it was under the same owner, but with a new manager.
We were drinking our café, when Pablo informed us that an armed robbery was taking place just down the street. I turned and looked out the window, and sure enough, the parking lot was crawling with police cars with lights flashing. Naturally, some of us had to go ourside for a better look. According to the people who were already out there, the supermarket down the block was being held up and the gunmen had hostages. The police told us to get inside because they were expecting gunfire.
The restaurant manager handled it quite nicely by offering everyone free drinks (wine or coffee, since they only have a beer-wine license).
After a half hour, everyone was getting a bit anxious to get out and get on with whatever they had planned, but the police weren't letting anyone leave.
Finally, about an hour later, it appeared the police had gotten inside the store and they were relaxing their vigil. Robb suggested we try to leave, so we got into our car and drove to the exit. I stopped and asked the policeman there, if we could leave and he told us to go south because they still had the northern section of the street blocked off.
We haven't seen or heard anything about what actually occured or how it turned out.
If you're masochistic enough to want to read about our dull lives any further, just click on "Whatever" on the top right of this page.
À bientôt, mes amis.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Paris 2008 - 29-30 Juillet
Mercredi - This will be the last entry from Paris. By this time tomorrow, we will be midway across the Big Pond on our way to exotic Newark, New Jersey.
Today for the first time since last Friday, I left the apartment for a couple of hours. In hindsight, I'm not certain how smart that was of me, but it's done now. I don't feel my best, but I've been worse.
We walked down to rue de la Roquette and caught the 61 bus, ostensibly to ride up to Place Gambetta because the other day I thought I saw an area from where one could view the entire city below. I must have a really, really good imagination, because there was no such place where I thought I had seen it. So we stayed on the bus. We were going to ride to the end of the line again, but we got to a stop where you could see a good bit of the city below you. We were in a totally new part of the city to us. I'm not really sure where we were, but if anyone who lives here reads this, the bus stop was Jean Jaurès in the XXé.
We caught the next bus back to our area where we stopped at La Grande Roquette for a café.
Speaking of buses, I think it would only be fair to say some nice words about the bus drivers in Paris. I told you about the one bad experience when the guy lied to me. That was kind of equalled out by the story of the driver who let us off between stops. But that doesn't tell the overall story. Time and time again, I have seen drivers wait for someone who was at least a half block away running to catch it. I have seen drivers open the door and let someone in who came and knocked on the door while the bus was stopped at a light. So, let it be known that the bus drivers in Paris are another much maligned group who in no way deserve a bad reputation.
A few moments ago, Geoff called to inform me that my car had been towed because the local police who are never around when they're needed, drove through and noticed my tag had expired. I'm sure I re-newed the tag, but I don't think I put it on yet because my insurance expired while I was here and I couldn't see paying for three months of insurance that would be useless. Oh well, time enough to sort that out when we get back.
We are, hopefully, going to have our last dinner in Paris at l'Angella in a few hours. We made it to the restaurant, but after eating very little, I had to leave and go back to the apartment. I was getting sicker by the minute and felt if I had stayed any longer, what little I did eat would have ended up on the table. What a perfect ending for this trip.
À bientôt, mes amis.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Paris 2008 - 25 Juillet
During our trip to the teahouse, an interesting phenomena occured. When we first got on the bus, a couple also got on. When we got to our stop, they were somehow already there waiting for the next bus. Now, I know they did not get off the bus before us, and, because of their age and walking difficulties, they could not have gotten off at the previous stop and walked there before the bus got there. So my question is; how did they do that? That's at least the second time that has happened since we've been here. I find it really strange.
By the time we got to the teahouse, I was feeling even more tired than usual and I feared I was on the verge of some sort of illness, which later in the evening, proved to be the case. I have come down with something but I'm not sure what it might be. Just another of the joys of using public transportation.
Now, I don't want to leave the impression that I'm against public transportation. Quite the opposite. I love using buses and métros simply because you get to experience the people as well as the city. But you do have to realize that there will be times when you will contract some sort of illness. It's unavoidable.
Plus à venir, mes amis.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Paris 2008 - 24 Juillet
We walked up to Musée Guimet only to find a long line waiting to get in. We decided to take a walk around the area. In the distance, a few blocks, I saw an interesting building tower and thought we could have a look, but we never got there. Robb was feeling hungry and we came across a nice bistrot just across the street from the Musée Galliéra, I'm not certain but this appears to be the main entrance. At bistrot Galliéra, we sat on the café terrasse. I had fish-on-a-stick and Robb had salmon. Never heard of fish-on-a-stick you say? Well, actually, it was a brochette de Perche. A brochette is usually beef, pork or veal on a skewer with peppers and onions, but at this place they used perch. It was very tasty. Just across the street is a tiny litle "park" with a statue of Rochambeau.
After our delightful repast, we walked back to the Musée Guimet, but the line was still rather long. I was beginning to think we would either have to come back another day or just forget it. Then I noticed a sign pointing up the street indicating the existence of the Centre Culturel Allemand (the German Cultural Center), so we traipsed up there. There wasn't really much of interest. They had about a dozen posters for movies/sports and that was it. We checked them out and went back to the Guimet (be sure to check out the visite virtuelle). If you click on "le version plein ecran" under the words "Michel Urtado" you can see the virtual visit in full screen mode. The line had dwindled considerably, so we joined at the rear and found that the cause of the long lines was a security checkpoint just inside the door.
I don't know if you can get a feeling for the size of the place from my exterior picture, but it is huge. There are five floors and it covers most everything one would consider Asiatique: India, Cambodia, Vietnam, China, Japan, etc. By now, I was pretty tired, so we only wandered around the main floor, but even that was quite large, with room after room of mostly statuary.
Plus à venir, mes amis.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Paris 2008 - 23 Juillet
We picked up the 63 bus and rode over to the Palais de Tokyo and the Musée d'Art Moderne, which are actually two separate buildings behind the same façade with a café terrasse in the center. Until the other day, when we rode the 63 to the end of the line, I didn't even know they were there. I mean, I had heard of them, but I didn't know where they were. I had been under the impression that the Palais de Tokyo was on the Left Bank near la Tour Eiffel, but now realise that is the Maison de la Culture du Japon a Paris, an interesting place in its own right.
Speaking of La Tour Eiffel, this is the view we got after leaving the bus.
We entered the Musée d'Art Moderne first, only to be told they would be closing in five minutes. I saw people entering the Palais de Tokyo and none were coming right back out, so we went over and found that it is open until midnight. We bought our Tarif Réduit (reduced price ticket) and started our tour. Remember our impression of the Pompidou's permanent collection? Well, ditto for the Palais de Tokyo. One exhibit was a room painted white with a small white box in the center of the floor. Another was a huge mound of garbage, literally. There was one exhibit which, though stupid, was interesting. It was a machine that loaded bottles into a barrel and blasted them against the wall at the far end of the room every fifteen minutes or so. There was quite a build-up of broken glass and I wondered how often they cleaned it and what they did with the glass. Maybe that's where they got the garbage for the other room. My favorite exhibit was a room full of Darth Vader masks on rods. They were all wired to a machine that produced a strange kind of music. It could have been really something if they had used the entire outfit so that it looked like there was a room full of Darth Vaders, but that's just my opinion.
We left there and discovered, just across the street, a beautiful building we had seen during our bus rides, but didn't have a clue about what it was. It is the Musée Galliéra. The sign indicated that the next scheduled exhibition would be in November, so we didn't go in. Beside, we weren't sure it was open because we only saw one person on the grounds and she appeared to be just walking through.
We walked up the street to Place d'Iéna where we discovered a statue of George Washington. On the other side of the Place was another museum about which we knew nothing, the Guimet, musée Asiatique. It looks very interesting so I hope we can go back and investigate a bit further before we have to leave.
We had dinner at l'Artiste Café. We both had the Salade Parisien. Ham, mushrooms, tomatoes, carrots on a bed of greens and topped with a poached egg. Super delicious, but again, more than I could finish.
I saw these two headlines on an internet news site: Obama urges Germans to work with US to stop terror. McCain visits German restaurant in Ohio. I find that hilarious!
Plus à venir, mes amis.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Paris 2008 - 22 Juillet
We started with a short excursion through the BHV plumbing section, where we noticed that those prices too, have risen significantly. We left and walked over to the quai de Seine, where we got a look at Paris Plage. Neither of us wanted to go down and mingle with the tourists, but it was interesting to see the real thing from the safety of the quai between the bouquinistes. If you're interested, most of the people on the lounges and in the tents, are Parisians who get there before sunrise to secure a place on the sand.
Afterward, we rode down to Avenue d'Italie. While we were waiting for the light to cross the street, a young black girl came over and asked if I knew the location of Avenue de Choisy. She was with a large group, of whom only one was an adult male. I pointed it out to her, but they went the wrong way anyway. If we hadn't been right behind them and saw they were starting in the wrong direction, they probably would never have found it. After sending them in the correct direction, we walked down Avenue d'Italie to rue de Tolbiac, then down to Avenue de Choisy and the Village de Chinois (Chinatown). That was kind of disappointing. There seemed to be more Anglos and blacks, than Chinois. But we walked all the way to Porte d'Ivry by way of Avenue de Choisy. We did stop at a McDonald's and got a milkshake from the walk-up window. Then we walked down to Porte d'Ivry where got the new Tramway Ligne 3, on the way getting the opportunity to see the Petite Ceinture that used to circle the city. We rode to the end of the line and then got back on and rode to the end of the line in the other direction. Once there, we got on and rode back to Porte d'Italie where we planned to get the bus.
Unfortunately, there was a guy there who was so drunk, and smelled of piss so bad, that no one could stand him. Seriously, you couldn't get within ten feet of this guy. We all waited to see if he got on our bus. When he didn't, we got on. But then, son of a gun, he got on by way of the rear door. He no sooner got on, then the rest of us got off; and I do mean almost everyone else on the bus.....he stunk that badly. Luckily for us, the driver came back and escorted him off the bus. We all got back on.
After getting back to the apartment, we decided to go to le Bouchon de la Roquette, a nice little place that we have come to like, that is only five or six blocks from us. But tonight was exceptional. I hope I can explain this to sufficiently describe the comraderie we experienced. We have been there two or three times previously. Tonight, it was as though they have known us forever. You know, like you would greet and treat friends. The waiter did that tonight when I was laughing at Robb taking so long to order. That's just a tiny example, it gets a lot better. A guy and his wife/girlfriend came in. It was his birthday. The owner asked everyone what they would like to drink to celebrate the guy's birthday (his name was Mark). Everyone else chose l'Armagnac, Robb chose Calvados for us. I'm not explaining this as accurately as it happened (I can barely type. I'm so full of alcohol). Previously to this, the owner was going from table to table, joking with everybody and making everyone feel like they were family and in a family atmosphere. It was just so fantastically friendly. Some time during all his table-hopping, he had asked if we were American. I said yes, but Robb said he was Allemand (German), to which the owner replied, "We can't all be perfect." Everyone was laughing, because we realized it was just a comment and not a serious accusation. At any rate, we all got our drinks and toasted the birthday boy (he was thirty). Later, as we were leaving, the owner stopped us and told us how much he enjoyed our visit. I'm sure this doesn't convey the real feeling of the night, but it's the best I can do, under the circumstances. Suffice it to say, it was one of the best nights we've had since we've been here.
Plus à venir, mes amis.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Paris 2008 - 19-20 Juillet
19 Juillet (Samedi) - Another new adventure for us today. We bused over to Place de la République, walked up rue du Faubourg du Temple to the Canal Saint-Martin. I've been reading how it has become the latest "in" area of Paris with trendy bistros and restaurants where all the hip people like to be seen. I was kind of disappointed, although it looks kind of cool in this video.. We walked quite a way along the canal, where we did get to see a tour boat that had to wait at each lock before it could advance in its journey. We passed a few restaurants, but certainly nothing that looked the least bit trendy. Even Hôtel du Nord didn't look all that famous. It is, you know. It was the title and the feature of a romantic movie made in 1938. It has since become a pretty well-known comedy club.
During our walk, we saw this colorful, rather artistic sign for summer festivals throughout the city. Now, if summer would only arrive. I can't believe we have to wear jackets and scarves with only a few days left in July.
We walked as far as Place du Colonel Fabien, where we got the 46 bus to Nation. We then boarded the 57 and rode to Italie2. It is the last day of the soldes and Robb was hoping to find something he liked on sale.
As we were walking through the mall, he became aware that the gold chain he had bought during our first Parisian vacation, had broken. He luckily, found his ankh and his Aries pendant inside his shirt, but the chain itself was gone. We found a jewelry store and he bought a new chain. Then, for some reason, he was feeling dizzy, so we stopped at the Brioche Dorée for a sandwich and a café. When he was feeling a bit better, we bused back to the apartment.
Dinner at L'Angella.
20 Juillet (Dimanche) - Today we made good on our resolve to visit the Petit Palais. It was a much better experience than the Grand Palais, and it is free. You do need to go to the reception desk to get a ticket, but there is no cost for it. Another example of French logic. Both the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais were built for the Universal Exhibition in 1900. If you decide to visit, be forewarned that there is a lot to see and several floors on which to see it. Although most of the art and artifacts are clearly labled, some are not, this was at the bottom of the staircase going downstairs (according to Wikimedia, it is Ugolino by Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux) and Sur les Ailes de la Victoire greets you when you first enter the building. Robb stated, and I agree, the building itself is worth the visit without all the fantastic art and artifacts. Even the garden in the center is worth a visit. There are some nice views from the garden. If your visit wears you out, there is a nice, though expensive, snack shop just off the garden.
There are some interesting things to see outside, also. I'm not sure if this was part of the grounds or something entirely separate. This, of course, is on the top of the Grand Palais. Another surprise, was this vintage Citroën driving past on the street in front of the palais.
After, we walked across the Pont Alexander III and boarded the 63 bus. The 63 is one of the best for seeing some of the sites of Paris on both sides of the Seine, and you'll remember, it was the one I thought we were getting on when we were returning from the Grand Palais. We rode it to the end of the line, stayed on and rode it back to Le Jardin des Plantes, where we got the 61 home.
Dinner at Au Cadran Voltaire.
Plus à venir, mes amis.