Returning to the real world from Paris has been jarring. And busy. And dramatic (because life without drama is apparently not in the cards for us). I returned to work Monday, and had my usual end-of-the-month half day on Tuesday. Good thing for me, since JuJuBee's midwife decided that Tuesday was The Day.
Sunny was due August 6. But there have been some concerns about her growth, and a decline in amniotic fluid pushed the midwife to induce her. I came and got Boo so Daddy could focus on JuJuBee and the delivery. From IV placement to delivery was about 2 1/2 hours. When I came in to hold JuJu's hand for the remainder of the cleanup (they were setting up to do a D&C when she finally delivered the placenta (I know, TMI but it's the ongoing damned DRAMA)), I laughed and informed JuJu that she should take her time - it's not a slip and slide after all! The midwife laughed out loud and said she had just told her the exact same thing! So now Boo has a little sister whose birthday is two days before hers. My brothers were the same.
Sunny and JuJuBee are still in the hospital. The week has been complicated by Sunny's poor temperature control, low blood sugars and jaundice. Hopefully she'll go home tomorrow with a biliblanket and they'll get some rest. Boo is sleeping over at Grandma's tonight. Again.
In the meanwhile, Babygirl and I went to NYC Saturday morning to hang out with Citygirl, who is in the process of packing up to move to the west coast. Sunday morning we loaded up the truck and drove to Philadelphia to be ready for this morning's doctor visit. We saw a new doctor, and left without knowing any lab results.
The call about results came after we'd arrived home. Babygirl hadn't felt up to going to the amusement park on the way home, so the trip was quite quick.
The results: Creatinine 1.1, up (again) from 0.9. Her anti-rejection med levels are low, so increase the dose. And her anemia? Much worse. Normal hemoglobin is 12.5. She generally hovers around 10.5. It's down to 8.5 now, which explains her general cold intolerance and fatigue. The Team is, as usual, meeting tomorrow. They call with a plan, but they are considering restarting erythropoietin, which of course her new kidney is supposed to be making. She won't mind the shots, but our new insurance might. Our old insurance took three weeks to approve it two years ago.
Maybe they'll just let us redo the labs locally....
Next appointment is with the Teen Clinic (she'll be 14 so she moves up!) which means we now need to make our visits on Thursdays instead of Mondays. Ugh ugh ugh. Thank God we're accustomed to the trip.
DeeDee
Monday, July 29, 2013
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Festivals, Flea Markets, Pickpockets and Farewells.....
Paris was celebrating Bastille day we arrived, and the streets were packed with celebrants. Like our Independence Day, there is always a background of firecrackers and sparklers. We left our hotel after a four hour nap and headed toward the Plaza De Mars to see if we could find a place to watch fireworks (note to self: Next big international trip, pack an old sheet for picnics/fireworks etc.). This enormous park at the foot of the Eiffel tower was FULL of people celebrating in one way or another. We had a meal, got our first pictures of the Eiffel tower, and gradually came to realize two things: First, that the sun sets VERY late in Paris and fireworks wouldn't start for a long time, and second, that the sheer weight of people would make the subway trip back to the hotel VERY uncomfortable. So we took the cowards' way out and went back to the hotel and watched about 4 different sets of fireworks from the windows.
We each had things we wanted to do in Paris, so we made a list. Among them was to go to a local flea market. Citygirl stumbled across such a market on a random ramble and found out that it would be up and running on our last day. When we arrived, however, there was no evidence that the market was even being set up. Nothing daunted, we moved on to Plan B and stormed the handicapped gate at the Louvre.
Somewhere between the hotel, our morning bakery run, the non-existent flea market, buying subway tickets and the Louvre, I discovered that my wallet had been neatly removed from my purse.
There are signs EVERYWHERE warning of pickpockets. We were pretty vigilant - my purse was always over my neck and shoulder and resting in front of me, usually with my hand on it. In the crowd in the Eiffel tower I had been thoroughly groped from behind, and Hubby felt several different attempts on his back pockets as well. But the guy who finally got my wallet must have had amazing skills - I never felt a thing.
There wasn't much in the wallet. I need a new drivers' license. There were maybe 20 euro. But our Make-A-Wish gift card was in there. Fortunately I had taken quite a bit of money out the night before, and by my calculations there wasn't much money left on it. Hubby had an emergency credit card with him and we had already spoken to them about the fact that we'd be in Paris and would likely be using it, so we shook it off and went on to enjoy the remainder of our last beautiful day in this wonderful city!
One final Wish that Babygirl had for Paris was to get dressed up in our finest clothes and go somewhere to eat. During the week we had tossed around various ideas: Picnic on the banks of the Seine, expensive restaurant, stroll up the Champs-Elysees.....you get the idea. By our last day we still hadn't done it. We'd done so much that day already, but we couldn't let it pass, so we put on our fancy duds and walked out into 'our' MontParnasse neighborhood in search of one of the incredible creperies that dominate the area. There is nothing so festive as setting your final dessert in Paris on fire!
I spent my last night in Paris gazing out of our hotel window, finally able to fully identify all that I was seeing: MontMartre, Sacre Coeur, the Tuilleries, Louvre, and Notre Dame Cathedral. So sad that it was my last night to soak it all in!
Citygirl and I had an early breakfast together since she had an earlier flight than we did to make her final destination of Florida (a trip she had already planned and paid for before we finalized the dates with Make-A-Wish - and thanks to THEM for helping her change all her flights without penalty!). And a late breakfast with Hubby and Babygirl before our lovely limo ride to the airport, where we had one final meal at the Laduree' branch there!
And then six solid hours of turning my barely legible daily jottings into the true diary from which these blog posts have been written, all on the beautiful handmade paper journal given to me for Christmas expressly for this purpose (thanks, Arianna!). I filled nearly half the journal. Babygirl was still skeptical about legibility LOL.
I cannot imagine a better, more enjoyable, more action-packed journey than the one we took.
DeeDee
PS Spellcheck HATES French. Toiletries? Creepies? Really?
We each had things we wanted to do in Paris, so we made a list. Among them was to go to a local flea market. Citygirl stumbled across such a market on a random ramble and found out that it would be up and running on our last day. When we arrived, however, there was no evidence that the market was even being set up. Nothing daunted, we moved on to Plan B and stormed the handicapped gate at the Louvre.
Somewhere between the hotel, our morning bakery run, the non-existent flea market, buying subway tickets and the Louvre, I discovered that my wallet had been neatly removed from my purse.
There are signs EVERYWHERE warning of pickpockets. We were pretty vigilant - my purse was always over my neck and shoulder and resting in front of me, usually with my hand on it. In the crowd in the Eiffel tower I had been thoroughly groped from behind, and Hubby felt several different attempts on his back pockets as well. But the guy who finally got my wallet must have had amazing skills - I never felt a thing.
There wasn't much in the wallet. I need a new drivers' license. There were maybe 20 euro. But our Make-A-Wish gift card was in there. Fortunately I had taken quite a bit of money out the night before, and by my calculations there wasn't much money left on it. Hubby had an emergency credit card with him and we had already spoken to them about the fact that we'd be in Paris and would likely be using it, so we shook it off and went on to enjoy the remainder of our last beautiful day in this wonderful city!
One final Wish that Babygirl had for Paris was to get dressed up in our finest clothes and go somewhere to eat. During the week we had tossed around various ideas: Picnic on the banks of the Seine, expensive restaurant, stroll up the Champs-Elysees.....you get the idea. By our last day we still hadn't done it. We'd done so much that day already, but we couldn't let it pass, so we put on our fancy duds and walked out into 'our' MontParnasse neighborhood in search of one of the incredible creperies that dominate the area. There is nothing so festive as setting your final dessert in Paris on fire!
I spent my last night in Paris gazing out of our hotel window, finally able to fully identify all that I was seeing: MontMartre, Sacre Coeur, the Tuilleries, Louvre, and Notre Dame Cathedral. So sad that it was my last night to soak it all in!
Citygirl and I had an early breakfast together since she had an earlier flight than we did to make her final destination of Florida (a trip she had already planned and paid for before we finalized the dates with Make-A-Wish - and thanks to THEM for helping her change all her flights without penalty!). And a late breakfast with Hubby and Babygirl before our lovely limo ride to the airport, where we had one final meal at the Laduree' branch there!
And then six solid hours of turning my barely legible daily jottings into the true diary from which these blog posts have been written, all on the beautiful handmade paper journal given to me for Christmas expressly for this purpose (thanks, Arianna!). I filled nearly half the journal. Babygirl was still skeptical about legibility LOL.
I cannot imagine a better, more enjoyable, more action-packed journey than the one we took.
DeeDee
PS Spellcheck HATES French. Toiletries? Creepies? Really?
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Normandie.....
Make-A-Wish sent Babygirl a list of potential activities to select from in anticipation of her trip to Paris. It included tours of Giverny and Monet's gardens. Tours of Versailles, Flanders, Normandy, the Louvre. Dinner cruise on the Seine. Paris Disney.
She didn't know what a lot of them were. So we Google'd, and Bing'd, and made choices: A general tour of Paris by bus, a trip to Versailles, and a trip to Normandy. Yup, my kid is smart enough to skip Disney.
We left for our tour at 6 AM in an 8-passenger minibus. The other four passengers were American tourists from a different hotel, and our tour was designed with Americans in mind. We spent the two-hour drive conversing with our tour guide and learning some much-needed background history.
At one point one of our traveling companions asked our guide, "Have you ever taken any famous people on this tour?"
"Not so much famous, no. But I have taken many IMPORTANT people. The soldiers, you see, they come back, or their wives come. They bring their children and their grandchildren and tell them the stories, to make sure that they do not forget."
I will never forget that, never. It brought the entire tour into sharp relief for me.
We stood on Pont du Hoc http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=pont+du+hoc&id=63E28217988487347BCAE26A031F3035F12A817C&FORM=IQFRBA and learned of the amazing courage of the handful of Rangers who scaled the cliffs to take the guns. The ground is pocked with 25-foot-deep craters from the shelling.
We saw Omaha, Juno, Utah beaches and memorials. And we saw the American Cemetery http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=american+cemetery+normandy&qs=IM&form=QBIR&pq=american+cemetary&sc=8-17&sp=1&sk= and the beaches below.
We had a lovely lunch in a chateau that pre-dated the invasion. And we drove back to Paris through the lush French countryside, seeing parts of the country that we would have missed entirely if Babygirl had limited us to Paris alone.
My uncle fought in WWII. He wasn't at Normandy, but I wrote his name in the sand there. He wasn't famous, but he was IMPORTANT.
Babygirl learned that history isn't just something you study in school. By the time we returned to our hotel at 6:30 PM we were exhausted in the best possible way. We all stretched body, soul, mind and spirit that day. And we are all the better for it.
DeeDee
She didn't know what a lot of them were. So we Google'd, and Bing'd, and made choices: A general tour of Paris by bus, a trip to Versailles, and a trip to Normandy. Yup, my kid is smart enough to skip Disney.
We left for our tour at 6 AM in an 8-passenger minibus. The other four passengers were American tourists from a different hotel, and our tour was designed with Americans in mind. We spent the two-hour drive conversing with our tour guide and learning some much-needed background history.
At one point one of our traveling companions asked our guide, "Have you ever taken any famous people on this tour?"
"Not so much famous, no. But I have taken many IMPORTANT people. The soldiers, you see, they come back, or their wives come. They bring their children and their grandchildren and tell them the stories, to make sure that they do not forget."
I will never forget that, never. It brought the entire tour into sharp relief for me.
We stood on Pont du Hoc http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=pont+du+hoc&id=63E28217988487347BCAE26A031F3035F12A817C&FORM=IQFRBA and learned of the amazing courage of the handful of Rangers who scaled the cliffs to take the guns. The ground is pocked with 25-foot-deep craters from the shelling.
We saw Omaha, Juno, Utah beaches and memorials. And we saw the American Cemetery http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=american+cemetery+normandy&qs=IM&form=QBIR&pq=american+cemetary&sc=8-17&sp=1&sk= and the beaches below.
We had a lovely lunch in a chateau that pre-dated the invasion. And we drove back to Paris through the lush French countryside, seeing parts of the country that we would have missed entirely if Babygirl had limited us to Paris alone.
My uncle fought in WWII. He wasn't at Normandy, but I wrote his name in the sand there. He wasn't famous, but he was IMPORTANT.
Babygirl learned that history isn't just something you study in school. By the time we returned to our hotel at 6:30 PM we were exhausted in the best possible way. We all stretched body, soul, mind and spirit that day. And we are all the better for it.
DeeDee
Friday, July 26, 2013
Towers.....
Paris is FULL of towers and monuments, all begging to be surmounted for the incredible views they afford. Many (but not all) have elevators. ALL have stairs in addition to wherever the elevator drops you - you must climb up or down to the elevator, depending.
One morning, without any particular plan in mind, we went to the Champs-Elysees to shop with an eye toward touring the Arc de Triomphe and having cookies and hot chocolate for lunch. Babygirl had discovered that none of the shoes she brought were really supportive enough. Her meds make her feet tend to swell, and by the end of our second day foot pain had become a big issue. Shopping for shoes on one of the most expensive streets in Europe didn't seem like a great plan, but hey, Make-A-Wish had given us instructions to spend ALL of our money, so why not?
Babygirl found a pair of black high top sneakers. We'll be lucky if she ever takes them off she loves them so much.
Anyway, back to the towers.
We bought passes for the Arc de Triomphe and were informed that the elevator was reserved for the handicapped and small children. Hubby decided that being four days post-appendectomy constituted a handicap and the rest of us took to the stairs. All 296 of them.
Once at the top, however, we were blessed to catch our breath surrounded by one of the best views Paris has to offer. Our hotel, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur Cathedral - all of them bright in the morning sun. We climbed back down, had our macaroons and chocolate, and in a fit of sugar-inspired energy, decided that Sacre Coeur was next. I know I already mentioned this under 'Churches' but it deserves double mention, believe me.
Once we had visited the interior of the cathedral we notice a sign pointing to the dome and the crypt. Since the temperature that day was approaching 90 degrees, the crypt had a certain allure. We went down about 40 steps to discover that the entrance to both the dome and the crypt were in the same location. We discussed our options. If the view from the Arc was impressive, the view from the dome must be spectacular - after all, the cathedral is built on the highest hill in Paris. The catch? Signage that clearly stated there were more than 300 steps up and no lift. We're still day four post-op here and Hubby has a bad knee....
Aw, what the hell. We have Advil. And Tylenol. AND Percocet. So we bought passes. Yes, you have that right. We PAID to do this.
Old stone steps. Spirals lit only by arrow slits. Straight runs along the edge of the roof. Steps varying from 4 to 16 inches in height/depth going around tight corners to go up and OVER the roof to enter another set of dimly-lit spirals. We moved from below the roof-top sculpture of St. George and the Dragon to eye-level with ol' George to far, far above them both until we finally, finally reached the 2' wide ledge that runs around the bottom of the dome.
I'm fairly sure that there was nothing in all of Paris that we could not see. A visiting choir began to sing far below us on the steps of the church, sweet music drifting up to us as we circled, and circled, and circled the dome. We were admiring the view, honest. Trying to work up the courage to start back DOWN had nothing whatsoever to do with it.
It took me over 5 minutes to set foot down the first step, a high one, first of an uneven almost-spiral that started me into the dark. Hubby had gone first, then the girls. A couple of dozen steps down, I heard Citygirl ask hubby in urgent tones if she could pass him. NOW. Somehow going down was so much worse than going up that it triggered a bout of claustrophobia, and she literally ran for the bottom. We're lucky she didn't kill herself!
Once at the bottom, we toured the crypt, and then had to climb back OUT, return to the funicular and then continue to climb down toward the train station. We stopped for a delicious dinner, included a LOT of wine, and took the train to the base of the Eiffel tower for our sunset Seine river cruise (which, I confess, included a couple of more drinks). Just as we were docking, the Eiffel tower lit up fully, sparkling and glowing in the fading twilight, brilliant, overwhelming beauty.
So naturally, we decided to climb THAT too.
Waiting in line for an hour for passes (a short wait, I assure you) cooled our climbing ardor a bit. We took the elevator up to the second level, about 2/3 of the way up (the top level had closed since it was nearing midnight). Once again we were sure we had the finest view in all of Paris. Cities of all kinds are lovely at night with all of the glowing lights, but Paris is exceptional. The Ferris Wheel (one little girl near us said it should be called a Paris Wheel!) at the Tuileries Garden was brightly lit, the street plan so clear. Ahhhhh.
The girls decided to take the stairs down. We took the elevator, and they beat us. They said they counted over 400 steps.
Yup. Three of Paris' highest monuments in one day. That's how we do things.
DeeDee
One morning, without any particular plan in mind, we went to the Champs-Elysees to shop with an eye toward touring the Arc de Triomphe and having cookies and hot chocolate for lunch. Babygirl had discovered that none of the shoes she brought were really supportive enough. Her meds make her feet tend to swell, and by the end of our second day foot pain had become a big issue. Shopping for shoes on one of the most expensive streets in Europe didn't seem like a great plan, but hey, Make-A-Wish had given us instructions to spend ALL of our money, so why not?
Babygirl found a pair of black high top sneakers. We'll be lucky if she ever takes them off she loves them so much.
Anyway, back to the towers.
We bought passes for the Arc de Triomphe and were informed that the elevator was reserved for the handicapped and small children. Hubby decided that being four days post-appendectomy constituted a handicap and the rest of us took to the stairs. All 296 of them.
Once at the top, however, we were blessed to catch our breath surrounded by one of the best views Paris has to offer. Our hotel, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur Cathedral - all of them bright in the morning sun. We climbed back down, had our macaroons and chocolate, and in a fit of sugar-inspired energy, decided that Sacre Coeur was next. I know I already mentioned this under 'Churches' but it deserves double mention, believe me.
Once we had visited the interior of the cathedral we notice a sign pointing to the dome and the crypt. Since the temperature that day was approaching 90 degrees, the crypt had a certain allure. We went down about 40 steps to discover that the entrance to both the dome and the crypt were in the same location. We discussed our options. If the view from the Arc was impressive, the view from the dome must be spectacular - after all, the cathedral is built on the highest hill in Paris. The catch? Signage that clearly stated there were more than 300 steps up and no lift. We're still day four post-op here and Hubby has a bad knee....
Aw, what the hell. We have Advil. And Tylenol. AND Percocet. So we bought passes. Yes, you have that right. We PAID to do this.
Old stone steps. Spirals lit only by arrow slits. Straight runs along the edge of the roof. Steps varying from 4 to 16 inches in height/depth going around tight corners to go up and OVER the roof to enter another set of dimly-lit spirals. We moved from below the roof-top sculpture of St. George and the Dragon to eye-level with ol' George to far, far above them both until we finally, finally reached the 2' wide ledge that runs around the bottom of the dome.
I'm fairly sure that there was nothing in all of Paris that we could not see. A visiting choir began to sing far below us on the steps of the church, sweet music drifting up to us as we circled, and circled, and circled the dome. We were admiring the view, honest. Trying to work up the courage to start back DOWN had nothing whatsoever to do with it.
It took me over 5 minutes to set foot down the first step, a high one, first of an uneven almost-spiral that started me into the dark. Hubby had gone first, then the girls. A couple of dozen steps down, I heard Citygirl ask hubby in urgent tones if she could pass him. NOW. Somehow going down was so much worse than going up that it triggered a bout of claustrophobia, and she literally ran for the bottom. We're lucky she didn't kill herself!
Once at the bottom, we toured the crypt, and then had to climb back OUT, return to the funicular and then continue to climb down toward the train station. We stopped for a delicious dinner, included a LOT of wine, and took the train to the base of the Eiffel tower for our sunset Seine river cruise (which, I confess, included a couple of more drinks). Just as we were docking, the Eiffel tower lit up fully, sparkling and glowing in the fading twilight, brilliant, overwhelming beauty.
So naturally, we decided to climb THAT too.
Waiting in line for an hour for passes (a short wait, I assure you) cooled our climbing ardor a bit. We took the elevator up to the second level, about 2/3 of the way up (the top level had closed since it was nearing midnight). Once again we were sure we had the finest view in all of Paris. Cities of all kinds are lovely at night with all of the glowing lights, but Paris is exceptional. The Ferris Wheel (one little girl near us said it should be called a Paris Wheel!) at the Tuileries Garden was brightly lit, the street plan so clear. Ahhhhh.
The girls decided to take the stairs down. We took the elevator, and they beat us. They said they counted over 400 steps.
Yup. Three of Paris' highest monuments in one day. That's how we do things.
DeeDee
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Time Zones and Timing Meds.....
It is important for every transplant recipient to be on a regimented schedule for medications. Babygirl takes all of her pills at 7 AM and 7 PM, Eastern Standard Time. We get a text message reminder on my phone at those times from www.MyMedSchedule.com.
For this international trip we opted to save a bit of money and not take our cell phones. Why would we need them? We left emergency contact information with my Mom's caregiver and left town, gleefully aware that no one could bother us while we were gone!
Except for the fact that we didn't get twice-daily reminders. Oh, yes - and there was the six-hour time zone difference thing. If she's supposed to take her pills at 7 here but it's 1 there, when does she take them? We had 6 extra hours going and lost 6 coming back.
Somewhere in our jet-lagged chaos, Babygirl missed two doses of medication. I think it was two. I'm sure at least one.....
See, that was the problem. That, and the fact that we had to carry all meds in labeled bottles and not pill sorters. I did fill a sorter when I got there, but we took one days' worth with us wherever we went to decrease the risk of missing doses. The net effect of that was that we could always easily tell if she HAD taken the pills or not.
Ugh.
It was truly the only difficulty involved in the entire trip. Not counting the old lady in the plane's restroom.
DeeDee
For this international trip we opted to save a bit of money and not take our cell phones. Why would we need them? We left emergency contact information with my Mom's caregiver and left town, gleefully aware that no one could bother us while we were gone!
Except for the fact that we didn't get twice-daily reminders. Oh, yes - and there was the six-hour time zone difference thing. If she's supposed to take her pills at 7 here but it's 1 there, when does she take them? We had 6 extra hours going and lost 6 coming back.
Somewhere in our jet-lagged chaos, Babygirl missed two doses of medication. I think it was two. I'm sure at least one.....
See, that was the problem. That, and the fact that we had to carry all meds in labeled bottles and not pill sorters. I did fill a sorter when I got there, but we took one days' worth with us wherever we went to decrease the risk of missing doses. The net effect of that was that we could always easily tell if she HAD taken the pills or not.
Ugh.
It was truly the only difficulty involved in the entire trip. Not counting the old lady in the plane's restroom.
DeeDee
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Food....
I've always heard that French food is tasty but the portions are small. And I've always heard that French waiters are incredibly rude.
Cultural stereotypes are interesting, no?
There is no excuse for going hungry in Paris. There are restaurants, bakeries, bars and bistros everywhere. Fruit sellers come out in the early evening on nearly every street. Prices vary from "Wow, that was cheap!" to "Mortgage payment." It didn't matter what we paid, everything we had was wonderful. We frequently ordered appetizers and shared them, which allowed each of us to taste things we'd never had before. We often did not need to order a full dinner. On more than one occasion we had dessert for lunch.
One very memorable meal was at Laduree'. Famous for macaroons and other baked goods and located on the Champs-Elysees, this lovely place has the most excellent hot chocolate anywhere. It was so thick I expected it to solidify as it cooled! We had various flavors of macaroons (and don't think of coconut - these are small cake-like cookies sandwiching a rich filling and covered with bright-colored frosting) and eclairs with hot chocolate for lunch and paid more for it than for any other meal we ate! The strength of that meal got us all the way up Sacre Coeur's dome!
Babygirl adores chocolate. And while she was not as impressed as I was with Laduree's hot chocolate, she loved chocolate mousse, chocolate croissants, and chocolate crepes. Crepes were the specialty of the Britons, who settled in the neighborhood of our hotel. They could be made savory or sweet, and either way they were amazing.
Each of us ended up learning to like something we hadn't had before - stinky cheeses, anchovies, mustard and cream sauces. We had wine of every color, beer from three continents and hard cider. In fact, one of my favorite pictures of the trip (on Citygirl's camera) is a picture of Babygirl after she'd taken a swig of that cider. She had the oogies.
As for the waiters? Well...... I guess some stereotypes have a basis in reality. Waiters would bring menus. From that point on if you wanted one, you had to wave him down and ask. And ask. And ask again. The plus side of this is that they never seemed to want to hurry you out. The downside is that eating out is not terribly efficient. But the relationship between eating and living in Paris is so radically different than here that it's almost impossible to imagine. We never saw people eating and walking at the same time. Lots of people would carry picnics to the banks of the Seine, but one never saw them hurry a meal.
We had two funny stories. In one restaurant I made the mistake of not beginning my request in French (unspeakable rudeness!) and the waiter ignored us to the point of not even bringing menus. Citygirl stood up and stomped out in a pique inspired by hunger. We ended up half a block away and a most delightful place, and gained our introduction to Belgian beer. The second time we went to the same restaurant (our only repeat) we had a different waiter. He was unimaginably rude to start with, literally throwing up his hands and walking away while Hubby was deciding what to eat. Bless Citygirl - she had the nerve to ask him what his problem was. Turns out he had just quit and had to finish out his shift. We cheered him on in his choice and became his favorite customers!
Looking back, our largest food-related expense was hydration. We routinely spent 4 euro for bottles of water, multiplied by four people, four times a day at least. One of the kindnesses of Make-A-Wish was that they made it unnecessary to buy water in bulk and carry it wherever we went. We were able to provide Babygirl (and all of us) with cold drinks wherever we were without having to worry about the cost. It seems like such a small thing, but as the one who is usually carrying a backpack full of water bottles, it was a BIG deal.
Being able to eat whatever we chose wherever we wanted was awesome. On each day we'd ask each other what our favorite memory of the day was. My all-time favorite response was Babygirl's: "This is my favorite part, all eating together and laughing."
DeeDee
Cultural stereotypes are interesting, no?
There is no excuse for going hungry in Paris. There are restaurants, bakeries, bars and bistros everywhere. Fruit sellers come out in the early evening on nearly every street. Prices vary from "Wow, that was cheap!" to "Mortgage payment." It didn't matter what we paid, everything we had was wonderful. We frequently ordered appetizers and shared them, which allowed each of us to taste things we'd never had before. We often did not need to order a full dinner. On more than one occasion we had dessert for lunch.
One very memorable meal was at Laduree'. Famous for macaroons and other baked goods and located on the Champs-Elysees, this lovely place has the most excellent hot chocolate anywhere. It was so thick I expected it to solidify as it cooled! We had various flavors of macaroons (and don't think of coconut - these are small cake-like cookies sandwiching a rich filling and covered with bright-colored frosting) and eclairs with hot chocolate for lunch and paid more for it than for any other meal we ate! The strength of that meal got us all the way up Sacre Coeur's dome!
Babygirl adores chocolate. And while she was not as impressed as I was with Laduree's hot chocolate, she loved chocolate mousse, chocolate croissants, and chocolate crepes. Crepes were the specialty of the Britons, who settled in the neighborhood of our hotel. They could be made savory or sweet, and either way they were amazing.
Each of us ended up learning to like something we hadn't had before - stinky cheeses, anchovies, mustard and cream sauces. We had wine of every color, beer from three continents and hard cider. In fact, one of my favorite pictures of the trip (on Citygirl's camera) is a picture of Babygirl after she'd taken a swig of that cider. She had the oogies.
As for the waiters? Well...... I guess some stereotypes have a basis in reality. Waiters would bring menus. From that point on if you wanted one, you had to wave him down and ask. And ask. And ask again. The plus side of this is that they never seemed to want to hurry you out. The downside is that eating out is not terribly efficient. But the relationship between eating and living in Paris is so radically different than here that it's almost impossible to imagine. We never saw people eating and walking at the same time. Lots of people would carry picnics to the banks of the Seine, but one never saw them hurry a meal.
We had two funny stories. In one restaurant I made the mistake of not beginning my request in French (unspeakable rudeness!) and the waiter ignored us to the point of not even bringing menus. Citygirl stood up and stomped out in a pique inspired by hunger. We ended up half a block away and a most delightful place, and gained our introduction to Belgian beer. The second time we went to the same restaurant (our only repeat) we had a different waiter. He was unimaginably rude to start with, literally throwing up his hands and walking away while Hubby was deciding what to eat. Bless Citygirl - she had the nerve to ask him what his problem was. Turns out he had just quit and had to finish out his shift. We cheered him on in his choice and became his favorite customers!
Looking back, our largest food-related expense was hydration. We routinely spent 4 euro for bottles of water, multiplied by four people, four times a day at least. One of the kindnesses of Make-A-Wish was that they made it unnecessary to buy water in bulk and carry it wherever we went. We were able to provide Babygirl (and all of us) with cold drinks wherever we were without having to worry about the cost. It seems like such a small thing, but as the one who is usually carrying a backpack full of water bottles, it was a BIG deal.
Being able to eat whatever we chose wherever we wanted was awesome. On each day we'd ask each other what our favorite memory of the day was. My all-time favorite response was Babygirl's: "This is my favorite part, all eating together and laughing."
DeeDee
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Le Toilette.......
Every culture has its quirks. And nowhere are these more easily seen than in a bathroom. British baths generally lack showers. German baths have showers but no shower stalls. Pakistani baths lack recognizable toilets (um, yeah.). And since I am the person who takes note of this sort of nonsense, I thought I'd give you my view on French bathrooms (sans pictures. You're welcome).
Our hotel bath had a lovely soaking tub with a shower, but raised high enough off of the floor that getting in was challenging. The girls have bruises to prove it (Babygirl is to blame for her sister's - it's a story).
We also had a bidet.
I've never seen one, although of course I've heard of them. Picture a seatless toilet-shaped sink, complete with hot/cold water faucet and plug system set at toilet height, in addition to the traditional toilet. Clearly this is a vast improvement over our meant-to-be-temporary-first-aid sitz baths. I admire the idea.
Signs identifying restrooms were less standard than here. The women were more fashionable, with hemlines varying from mini to slanted. Cutesie icons were common - little girls sitting, little boys standing. I have a lovely modern art Mona Lisa photo from the ladies' room at the airport. It made me wonder what was on the wall in mens'.
Public restrooms are rare in Paris. There are a few of the type seen in Boston that actually completely sanitize themselves between uses. Restaurant restrooms vary from the utilitarian to the vastly amusing. and most are situated on a different floor than the eating area. In many older building these rooms are clearly afterthoughts squeezed into tiny spaces originally meant to be hallways, pantries, or even staircases. In more than one the toilet was situated in such a way as to necessitate sitting sideways. It is not unusual for a restaurant to charge its patrons half a euro or more to use the bathroom. In the Louvre, restrooms were added into the walls in between buildings. In restrooms with stalls the women's stall doors go from floor to ceiling, so no peeking. The men's are more like saloon doors, easy to see above or through. How do I know about the men's stalls? Many restrooms have a central wash area used by both genders with the stall doors opening directly out of that space. Vive la France!
I had two favorites. (Okay, really? Have you met me? Of COURSE I do!)
The Lebanese restaurant just off of the Rue de Rivoli. I descended a staircase so mysteriously lit that I wished I had a flashlight. I opened the door - total darkness. I spotted a switch outside the door (common enough there). When I hit it, the modern bowl-shaped sink began to glow. Orange. There were no other lights. The entire room was tiled in tiny black tiles. Allowing myself to adjust to the gloom, I spotted a stall door and entered. A motion sensor set of a narrow spotlight aimed directly at the toilet seat. Sitting in the spotlight, I was unable to clearly see the shape of the tiny stall. By contrast, climbing the gloomy stairs was light by contrast.
But my absolute favorite were the ones at Laduree' restaurant on the Champs-Elysees. The building is fantastically beautiful, and the baths have marble floors and lovely detailed wood doors. And the toilet seats are square. Square.
So now you know how easy I am to entertain.
DeeDee
Our hotel bath had a lovely soaking tub with a shower, but raised high enough off of the floor that getting in was challenging. The girls have bruises to prove it (Babygirl is to blame for her sister's - it's a story).
We also had a bidet.
I've never seen one, although of course I've heard of them. Picture a seatless toilet-shaped sink, complete with hot/cold water faucet and plug system set at toilet height, in addition to the traditional toilet. Clearly this is a vast improvement over our meant-to-be-temporary-first-aid sitz baths. I admire the idea.
Signs identifying restrooms were less standard than here. The women were more fashionable, with hemlines varying from mini to slanted. Cutesie icons were common - little girls sitting, little boys standing. I have a lovely modern art Mona Lisa photo from the ladies' room at the airport. It made me wonder what was on the wall in mens'.
Public restrooms are rare in Paris. There are a few of the type seen in Boston that actually completely sanitize themselves between uses. Restaurant restrooms vary from the utilitarian to the vastly amusing. and most are situated on a different floor than the eating area. In many older building these rooms are clearly afterthoughts squeezed into tiny spaces originally meant to be hallways, pantries, or even staircases. In more than one the toilet was situated in such a way as to necessitate sitting sideways. It is not unusual for a restaurant to charge its patrons half a euro or more to use the bathroom. In the Louvre, restrooms were added into the walls in between buildings. In restrooms with stalls the women's stall doors go from floor to ceiling, so no peeking. The men's are more like saloon doors, easy to see above or through. How do I know about the men's stalls? Many restrooms have a central wash area used by both genders with the stall doors opening directly out of that space. Vive la France!
I had two favorites. (Okay, really? Have you met me? Of COURSE I do!)
The Lebanese restaurant just off of the Rue de Rivoli. I descended a staircase so mysteriously lit that I wished I had a flashlight. I opened the door - total darkness. I spotted a switch outside the door (common enough there). When I hit it, the modern bowl-shaped sink began to glow. Orange. There were no other lights. The entire room was tiled in tiny black tiles. Allowing myself to adjust to the gloom, I spotted a stall door and entered. A motion sensor set of a narrow spotlight aimed directly at the toilet seat. Sitting in the spotlight, I was unable to clearly see the shape of the tiny stall. By contrast, climbing the gloomy stairs was light by contrast.
But my absolute favorite were the ones at Laduree' restaurant on the Champs-Elysees. The building is fantastically beautiful, and the baths have marble floors and lovely detailed wood doors. And the toilet seats are square. Square.
So now you know how easy I am to entertain.
DeeDee
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