The Trip Bug

Jennifer and Carol, both reading "Guernsey Literary and
Potato Peel Society" at the Florence Airport

Carol got it first. Jennifer, our tour organizer, is a French teacher at a high school and Carol is the school's counselor. They spent a lot of time together, so I don't know when it was that we became aware of the fact that Carol wasn't feeling well. I think it was on the last day in Paris. People were pooling the meds they had brought to see if they could find anything that would help her feel better.

The day we left for Italy, I asked Jennifer if she was feeling all right. She looked terrible. She is a very quiet person and she said she thought she was feeling sick. She went with us to Cinque Terra and even got off to hike around, but she skipped the trip to Portofino for dinner that night and sent Ian out to buy pasta for her.

When we got to Siena, she was feeling so sick that she skipped our welcome dinner in Florence. Ian and Antonio took her -- on the bus! -- into Siena to see a doctor and get meds. I think she skipped the day in Florence entirely (I don't remember her being on the bus), but by the time we left Florence, she was feeling OK again.

After I returned home, I had e-mail from two other members of our group who had come down with it when they got home.

I was feeling pretty cocky. I had gotten home, Walt was in Santa Barbara and I spent the day unpacking, organizing, and starting to look at my photos. I didn't go to sleep until 11 p.m. and, with one brief interruption to move from the couch to the recliner, I slept all night until about 7 a.m. I had licked the "jet lag" thing and was already back on California time and feeling just fine.

Walt returned home the day after I did and all was well, but around 9:45, I was feeling sleepy, so decided to go to sleep. I woke up, wide awake at 1:30 a.m. and since I was so into the photograph thing, I sat up until 5 loading pictures into Flickr. At 5, I was feeling sleepy again, so I climbed into the recliner and went back to sleep until 9. When I woke up at 9, I had "the bug." My chest was tight, I couldn't breathe, I had no voice, and I felt awful.

I spent almost the entire day in the recliner napping. I would get up to start another batch of photos uploading to Flickr, but since it takes a very long time to upload a lot of photos, I just crawled back to the recliner while Flickr did its work. I hardly ate anything and Walt went out to get dinner, which I had just a little of.

I had to review a show last night and could barely stay awake through the lively Thoroughly Modern Millie. Walt must have poked me 100 times to wake me up (he said I was moaning off and on!). When we got home, I went straight to the recliner and was asleep almost immediately. I woke up a couple of times, but went right back to sleep again. As I write this (5 a.m. -- I finally got up because I really had to get the review in right away), I know that I am probably going to spend most of today in the recliner too. The chest isn't quite as tight as it was, unless I cough. But now I have a sore throat to add to the other symptoms. I'm hoping that the five of us who caught this thing are the only ones who get it...now I understand why Jennifer looked so bad the day she got sick!

Yesterday I said I would talk about getting home from Florence. Lemme tell you, ain't nobody gonna sneak anything by security in Paris!

The day started at 4 a.m., loading the bus. By 4:15 we were on the road. The hotel had packed breakfasts for us to take with us. We got to the Florence airport where most of us were flying out within the hour. Ian was taking the train to the north of France, Char and Tavie were flying to Belgium to visit relatives, and Jeri, since she was going to Boston instead of San Francisco, was to get her connecting flight in Berlin instead of Paris. We said our goodbyes and left the others standing there as we climbed the...yes, stairs again...to the security area. After we went through security, we went downstairs again to the waiting area and eventually boarded a bus to take us to the plane to Paris.

I was very glad that I had upgraded my seat for the flight to SF because my big butt did not fit in the seat and I felt just horrible about intruding on Carol's space (to say nothing of the pain in my rear for the hour and a half flight!)

It seemed like an hour would be plenty of time to catch our connecting flight, but the Paris airport is crazy. I don't know if this graphic helps.

We flew into terminal three and were leaving from 2E, gate 72. To get to 2E, you had to board a tram that took out OUT of the airport and round and round the parking lots, which meant that you arrived at Terminal 2 and went back in again, which means going through security again. I've lost track of exactly what we did. You take a huge long escalator up to the departure floor, then line up, Disneyland-style, in switchbacks with everyone else in Europe. There is a first guy who tells you whether you should go to the yellow line or the green line. I don't know what the determination is, since half of us were yellow and half were green.

Then you go to the examiners, who are in booths. They direct you to where your gate is. Not bad at all, I thought!

Well, the terminal directs you to gates 21-76. We were in gate 72, which tells you how far we had to go. You catch a tram to take you to 51-76 and Jennifer herded us all on the tram, only to decide at the last minute we were on the wrong tram. She pulled two of us out and yelled at the others "Don't forget--gate 72!!!" We took the next tram and discovered that when we got there the others were already there waiting for us.

Now were in another switchback line that stretched forever. Jennifer tried to get someone to let us cut in since our plane was leaving so soon, but was told to wait in line. This is where you take off your shoes and practically disrobe.

From there it was only 20 or so gates to the plane (somehow I thought there was a third switchback line, but I can't remember where it was), and the moving walkways weren't all moving. It was like being back in Florence again without the 90 degree heat. I think I was the next to last person to board the plane, but once I'd gone through the two screenings at the gate, I knew I was home free.

I had chosen a seat on the aisle when I checked in the night before, which was very smart because I could stretch my bothersome leg out into the aisle without problem. The only problem was that the guy in the window seat seemed to want to get up every hour at least, so I spent most of the ride getting up to let him in or out.

But the food was good, I was able to watch a movie (in English, even--I watched Doubt in French coming over because I couldn't figure out how to get it in English!), I finished one book and started another and the time really did almost "fly."

I was never so glad to see anyone as I was to see Mike, Char's husband, who met us at the airport. Since the trip began, I had expanded from two suitcases to one and I couldn't even see where to catch BART and the idea of schlepping all the luggage on BART, a city bus, and the train was almost like doing Florence all over again.

It was so good to be home again!

Paris

The best decision I have made thus far was to skip The Louvre. I know some would think that a mistake, but trust me, I am a much happier camper (and I suspect the others are too, not having to wait for me).

Last night the younger set went off to Monmartre while us old fogeys went to a lovely fish restaurant, Mollard, just a block from here. The decorations are lovely. (Do check the link.) There was nothing for Pat, a vegetarian, to eat, so she ordered a fruit cocktail off the dessert menu. Char and I had French onion soup and our two companions, sisters Shirley and Jenny, had a salad. We shared a bottle of wine. We realized when we first got seated that we were grossly UNDER-dressed for the place and we had the feeling that the waiters were rolling their eyes at us, but they finally decided to have fun with us, and made the dining a fun experience, even tho we were ordering the cheapest things on the menu. The people at the table next to us ordered this HUMONGOUS plate of sea food, all surrounded with oystersand topped with a huge lobster. It arrived on a large round platter which was placed in the center of the table on a pedestal. I wanted to sneak a picture, but didn't.

Jeri got home around 12:30 a.m. with fun tales of what they had done in Monmartre (which included eating escargot, which she loved). When Walt and I were in Monmartre was when I caused the international incident in McDonald's. Jeri's experience was much more positive! They climbed up to Sacre Coeur, went to the Eiffel Tower and were at the top when strobe lights started flashing, they rode the subway with musicians playing accordion and clarinet and it sounds as if they had a great time. I'm so glad!!

I woke up this morning at 5 and lay in bed listening to the end of my audiobook, then went downstairs around 5:30 and sat there reading "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" (I recommend it) until Char and Pat came down and then went to breakfast with them.
After the group went to the Louvre, I went upstairs and lay down on the bed and, to my amazement, woke up THREE HOURS later! Obviously not going to the museum was exactly what I needed to do--or not do, as the case may be.

Some observations about Paris: Yesterday was "sale day." Apparently this is a scheduled day, two times a year, throughout the country (though the actual date might change depending on where you live). It's the day when all the stores have big sales, so around here, a shopping area, the streets were clogged and the stores were filled with people. Nearby one store was apparently having some sort of problem because there were pickets out in front and masses of people around them (we saw this from the bus). At night, when we were walking to the restaurant, there were shoe boxes opened and empty around the store on the corner and women still packed tightly in side looking to buy more shoes.

Jeri wants to go bike riding, but I don't think she will have time to do it. But at each end of our block there is a line of some dozen or so bikes which you can rent. There is a machine where you buy a card or something (I haven't examined it closely). Then you take one of the bikes, ride it to your destination, where you leave it at a similar station, pay the necessary fee and voila! You have ridden a bike. Quite an ingenius system...I can see it being a great idea for Davis!
When we were here before, there were people all around the tourist areas trying to sell postcards. I don't remember them being black, but now there are black (can't call them "African-Americans," can I??) men everywhere with small golden Eiffel Towers on a long metal ring around their wrists, holding scarves in one hand and post-cards in another. I have yet to see a tourist buying anything from them, but they must make a living because they are everywhere.
The smoking bans have been in effect in the US for so long that I have forgotten what it's like to walk through a cloud of cigarette smoke on the streets, but you find that a lot around here. The places where we have been inside, though, aren't as smoky as I remember from our one day here years ago.

Though this is a town built on a river and a town which has lots and lots of fountains, it's very difficult to stay hydrated. I haven't seen a single drinking fountain and I have been thirsty the whole time I've been here. Ice, of course, is not a French concept, so even the gin and tonic we had after dinner last night came with only a couple of token, anemic ice cubes. Water served at meals comes slightly chilled, but barely. I suspect I am going to get home and sit down with a tall glass of ice water, with ice cubes, and not get up for days.

We saw King Kong yesterday. They are setting up for Bastille Day and so near Luna Park (I only remember the name of the park from the old Yves Montand song) there are cranes and huge trucks and one long flatbed truck with the body of King Kong lying flat and his head propped up at one end. I was unable to get a photo.

Ashley, who turns 16 on Sunday, is just adorable. She has brought a little monkey with her to photograph all over Paris. We are all enjoying her enthusiasm and I notice that everyone has taken a photo of Ashley photographing the monkey at least once. Her mother said it was the monkey who got Ashley outside on top of the Eiffel, overcomig her fear of hights to take a picture of the monkey.

Tomorrow we head out of the hotel at 5:45 a.m. to catch the bullet train down to the south of France, so this is our last day in Paris. I have to admit I am not sorry. Though I grew up in San Francisco and always considered myself a "city girl," I admit that in my old age, all the traffic and people and hustle and bustle is not to my liking. I will be glad to be somewhere just slightly more calm. I hope! But I am so thrilled to have seen what I have seen and to have (so far) survived.

Just a Hop, Skip and Jump

This is what our itinerary for today says: Bienvenue! "Paris greets you today. Relax and become acquainted with this beautiful city. Special welcome dinner this evening!"

Apparently nobody told Ian.

Ian is our new tour guide as our original one sprained her back; so they called in the big guns--Ian. He is a former art history professor and really knows his stuff. Everything he has to say is fascinating; but he is so eager to give us history, background and tips to increase our appreciation of what we will be seeing that he spends more time teaching than we have to SEE what he's talking about.

After an 11 hr flight on which I got NO sleep; we had 30 min to check into our rooms and meet in the lobby to go to Notre Dame. After he instructed us from three different spots in the plaza in front of the church he told us we had 15 min to tour the inside and meet him back outside to go on a boat ride along the Thames. It was just a hop skip and jump to get to the Metro and it would let us right off at the boats.

The stop was the Eiffel Tower and from there we WERE at the boats but OUR boat was the farthest one naturally;

This is what our itinerary for today says: Bienvenue! "Paris greets you today. Relax and become acquainted with this beautiful city. Special welcome dinner this evening!"

Apparently nobody told Ian.

Ian is our new tour guide as our original one sprained her back; so they called in the big guns--Ian. He is a former art history professor and really knows his stuff. Everything he has to say is fascinating; but he is so eager to give us history, background and tips to increase our appreciation of what we will be seeing that he spends more time teaching than we have to SEE what he's talking about.

After an 11 hr flight on which I got NO sleep; we had 30 min to check into our rooms and meet in the lobby to go to Notre Dame. After he instructed us from three different spots in the plaza in front of the church he told us we had 15 min to tour the inside and meet him back outside to go on a boat ride along the Seine. It was just a hop skip and jump to get to the Metro and it would let us right off at the boats.

The stop was the Eiffel Tower and from there we WERE at the boats but OUR boat was the farthest one naturally

NEW STUFF: OK...I have my second wind, a cheap computer and an ENGLISH keyboard, so let me finish this entry...

First let's go back to the plane. As we got into our "extra leg room" seat, I have VERY glad I wasn't in the cramped seats because we had so little room. I was wedged in and my ploy of getting a window seat so I could lean against the window didn't work because of the shelf between the seat and the window, tho it was big enough to put my backpack on, which gave me all the leg room without having to step around the backpack.

We had several choices of movies and our own TV screen in back of the seat in front of us (the downstairs people didn't have their own TVs) but my butt took up so much of the seat that I couldn't get to the buttons and when I finally, with GREAT difficulty managed to get the TV turned on and actually FOUND a movie ("Doubt") it was the French version and I couldn't find the English version to save my soul. So I watched it in French and spent the rest of the flight reading. I didn't sleep at all.

Ian met us at the airport and our Bataan march began. As I said, we had 30 min to check into our rooms and meet in the lobby to start the trip to Notre Dame. The metro was just up the street, but then there were two flights of stairs down, LONG corridors to walk, then up stairs and then down stairs again and I lost count. At every turn Ian was there to encourage us that it was "Just a hop, skip and a jump." Yeah. Right.

Our 15 min in Notre Dame was very nice and he even gave us an additional 15 to check out the flying buttresses on the side,but then we had to get back on the metro to go to the Eiffel Tower station to catch the boat. "It's just a short bit,"he would say,before leading us into another maze of metro steps and corridors.

For those of you who watched "Biggest Loser, Couples," I really knew how Ron must have felt when starting the program for the TV show.

By the end of the day, people were being very solicitous. At one point, after I told Jeri that I'd gladly pay 10 euros for a bottle of water (1 euro = about .65) she ran off and to check something and came back with a huge bottle of water for me. I almost cried, I was so happy.

When we got off the boat, we just had to take the metro back. "It's just a short walk," Ian promised, indicating that it was "just by that building." I wished I'd had binoculars to see the building Waaaaay off in the distance. "Just a short walk" including walking the distance of one bridge to another, crossing the bridge. Walking to a long incline, then up a couple of flights of stairs and then just around the corner to the metro, which started with a very long set of stairs down, more corridors and stairs again. Ian was there encouraging me all the way, but I was fallng more and more behind.

When we got home, he gave us 15 minutes to "get ready" and then walk to dinner. "Just a hop, skip and a jump." Everything I was wearing was wet, so I had to have a shower (and in so doing flooded the bathroom.) When I got downstairs, everyone had left, except Jeri and Jenny who had waited for me. It wasn't exactly a "hop, skip and a jump," but I did make it...eventually. When I got in the restaurant, the ever buliant Ian said "They've given us a lovely little room upstairs."

I nearly cried.