PARIS TRIP REPORT Part 1 - MAHYA’ S ADVENTURES & MISADVENTURES(long)
Oct 8th, 2008, 11:07 AM
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
PARIS TRIP REPORT Part 1 - MAHYA’ S ADVENTURES & MISADVENTURES(long)
PARIS TRIP REPORT Part 1 - MAHYA’ S ADVENTURES & MISADVENTURES
(long)
I booked my third Paris trip for September 18 and thought as long as I’m over
there I might as well spend a week or so
in Nice and as long as I was so close a week in Greece. The flight over on Air France was wonderful, a delightful young girl sat next to me who was half
French and half Irish. She spoke English with her father’s Irish accent and
French which was her mother’s native tongue beautifully. The stewards were attentive and so pleasant, even the wine which had a fruity taste was good and Le Boueff lunch actually delicious. Of course when I ordered le boueff just as My French seatmate had, it sounded the same to me, but the steward burst out
Laughing. It happens every time I attempt to speak something in French.
I had pre-booked transfers through an agency and expected to be met by the
Minivan driver on arrival. First cue things might not be going smoothly on this
Trip- (the newspaper horoscope said planet Mercury was going retrograde and
All plans for travel and meetings might go awry) he was nowhere to be seen -
phone calls to the office produced “he’ll be there In 10 minutes “ and , Voila, he surely did arrive - an hour later. Wouldn’t have mattered much except for the fact that most taking the flight from Miami were standing out in the cold practically in our
skivies and certainly not dressed for waiting in 6 Celsius (42 degrees Fahrenheit)Weather. When temps fall to 70 F. in Florida, we put on our heavy sweaters!
Never mind, WE ARE IN FRANCE ! Yay. Next the driver kind of tours Paris, which I Really didn’t mind and drops me off at the apartment I had rented. I’m met by the Owner A little nervous Spanish woman, who although born in France, insists she is
Spanish - okay, but She speaks no English at all, I speak no recognizable French, we don’t seem to speak the same Spanish and she telephones her husband Who does translations by phone. The apartment is kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom
with shower only and the main rooms are quite large, and partially furnished with what would be considered fine antique chairs and tables in the U.S. It’s on the ground floor in a perfect location in the 6th, just a few blocks from Luxembourg
Gardens, a few blocks from Monoprix and Montparnasse and there is the bus stop
#96 on the main street, rue Rennes, which goes straight down rue St. Michel
To the Seine. Perfect. Almost. The apartment is cold. Of course, it is the ground floor in a hundred Year old stone building. I notice then there are two portable electric radiators which can be rolled around. Hmmm. And then the husband mentions that they will charge the electric bill since I will be using Heat. Quel surprise. Never mind. Location, location, location, and the price for 10 days was right.
There is a dishwasher and a washing machine, a tv but no CNN, no microwave,
no cable connection. But I have my laptop and I’ll do Wee-Fee.Actually the
apartment could have been spectacular with a paint job and some sprucing up and light bulbs higher than 25 watts.
Madame gives me the keys, explains the numbers to push to enter the main
door and how to turn the keys in the ancient front door to the apt. It is then that I notice 5 locks on the apartment door. Count em. Five. ??? And the husband explains to me very firmly Whenever I leave the apartment I must close the shutters on the 3
gigantic windows and make sure the vertical bar is turned firmly locking. Okay. Hmmmm. As I’m hanging up my clothes, I notice a sawed off shotgun in the
closet. No, I’m not kidding You. Hmmmmm. Now I’m beginning to wonder about
safety here, while my nose begins to run and the sneezing begins. Great!
I must say though for a ground floor apartment it was very quiet. And right across the street was a Velib stand - the new mode of transportation in France - the bicycle.
If I had not torn my knee I would have taken advantage of it. But I would have felt better had the husband not made such an issue of locking windows and shutters. (It turned out to be fine, but with such warnings and excessive locks one can't help but feel unsafe during the stay).
Out I go to Monoprix, my first time food shopping in Paris since I had always
stayed in hotels previously. This is an adventure in itself since I don’t speak, read, write la Francais. So I spend about a ½ hour trying to figure out if the tub marked buerre is cream cheese or butter - and I find ham and Herbed chicken slices for 2 or 4 or 6. Interesting since we don’t have anything like that.
Delicious croissants, brie cheese, salad, a giant alvocado but I cant find the eggs . Finally I ask
a few young men who speak English but don’t understand “eggs,” until I make like a chicken flapping my arms under my armpits and kind of squatting to produce
Eggs in the aisle of Monoprix - and say product of cluck, cluck , cluck. Yep I swear I did .
The word for eggs by the way is something like “oueffs”. I go to the cashier, a nice young
Man, who says in French - he will hold my groceries while I go get my tomatoes. Wow.
Have you ever had a cashier in the US insist you go get your tomatoes and he will hold Your groceries until you come back ? I love Paris.
On the way home, wishing I had one of those kool little grocery carts others had in Monoprix. A man offers to help me carry my groceries which I decline. “Non parlez
Francais, merci.”
Saturday morning, I’m ready to hook up my computer to WeeFee and connect to
Fodor’s and other Sites I had planned to use for Paris and Nice and Greece and to make reservations. No WeeFee. I can connect but Internet Explorer wont allow me to really connect, Up the street I go to an internet store where the manager comes over
to see if he can get my computer connected to WeeFee. Really sweet and nice…who says the French are rude and arrogant? They’re wrong. He tells me about the FNAC Computer
store down the street where they should be able to fix what’s wrong. Three days later, and Practically 3 full days spent in the store with numerous purchases, still No Wee-Fee. Okay. I give up. Teaches me a lesson. Note to self: Book everything on home computer before leaving, as you have always done before “. Next lesson: don’t travel in the future
when your horoscope says Mercury (ruling travel) is going Retrograde in motion)
On Saturday evening I desperately am trying to hail a cab to meet Joan Grace for dinner
at Hotel Le Crillon at one end of the Concord (I think). I arrive late so there is no time
to sit in the lobby and people watch.Since we have never met or traded photos online there are a few moments of hesitancy until we recognize each other . Dinner starts with a glass of champagne, an appetizer of avocado and I think shrimp? Served very
prettily and I had lamb for an entrée which was delicious. The waiter seemed anxious
to rush us through our meal, but I was having none of that, and we were both surprised to see men in t-shirts and jacketless in the restaurant, but it was explained to us that they
were guests of the hotel. Apparently if you are paying $500 and up for your room nightly you can come to the restaurant in your Pajamas if you want to. Quel unelegance
Since I’d been to Paris twice before, I had been to most of the well known sites, but this time I wanted to go to some I had missed or the lesser known like the Roman baths, Fragonard, the Fashion show, The Gardens at Tullieres, a concert
at La Madeleine, L’Orangerie, and of course my beloved concerts at St. Chappelle.
Sunday I go to the Luxembourg Gardens, an absolutely beautiful and warm day, and I’ve
never seen the Luxembourg so crowded. Wall to wall people. Good people watching.And they also had a Flower, herb, and tree show, where you could go into a tent and in
front of each flower they had a vial of its sap from which they make perfumes , and little papers to dip in so you could smell the fragrance. Yeccch. It is hard to believe perfumes
could be made from any of those odors. Back to the Lake where they sail toy boats and people and fashion watching while taking pictures of all the Queens of France as I head
toward the lake. Dinner is at Leon’s of Bruxelles on rue St. Michelle, my favorite mussels,
salad, and 3 scoops of ice cream and raspberry sherbert. MmYumyum. Actually I could eat
moule every day. People watching galore from my table at the front window.
On Monday, I’m still disoriented. Oh, did I mention that the Garmin 370 I had ordered and
Schlepped with me to Paris, and which was supposed to be pre-loaded with France and all European countries, was loaded only with the U.S.? and I already had a Magellan for the U.S.? So I I explore my neighborhood in the 6th arr. on foot without being able to tell
direction or area I’m heading toward. I had been so looking forward to traveling around
Paris streets with my Garmin Pedestrian GPS. and not walking around in circles , lost, for a change. The store windows are enticing.Living in Florida I don’t need boots or coats, but I love the fuschia pink coats in the windows, the heavy Coat sweaters, and the slouchy
boots. There’s a store offering out of season clothing for 5 Euro. WOW 5 Euro, am dying to go in but have other places to go. In the evening I attend the concert at St. Paul de Pauvre Church - it’s alright, a piano recital Of Mozart and Schubert, The artist was quite good
but the accoustics don’t do him justice. The older man sitting next to me wants to Know if I speak French and if I play the piano. Non to both. Funny, except for Joan Grace’
I haven’t been running into Americans, but it is the French who are friendly and attempting To converse whether in English or not.
On Tuesday afternoon I take the bus down to rue du Palais and obtain my ticket to the St. Chappelle concert for that evening. I see a nice gendarme across the street with a spiffy almost pencil thin trimmed moustache , and I approach to ask him the direction for Jardin du Tullieres. “Bon Jour Madame” with a little smile, “bon jour Mouissieure, sil vous plais, quel est la Jardin du Tu - ll - yerrs ?. He says “Twilyers” correcting my French attempt. We are mouth to mouth and I;’m trying to position my lips to imitate “twilyers” but after several attempts and his correcting me, it’s not working…By this time both he and I are smiling broadly, practically laughing, and I wave my hand - like forget it - quel direccion ? A la gouche - twa ___ a la gauche….with much hand motions and my repeating…merci merci and we part smiling and with a wave. To speak French I think your mouth must be in a permanent position as if you are about to pucker up. Lol.
I walk and walk and walk and sure enough there is “Twilyers” -which I really don’t want, I want L’Orangerie museum next door which has an exhibition of Monet’s lilies, as well as Renoir, and Modigliani and several others, but the gendarme had not recognized my pronunciaton of L’Orangerie either so I had switched to “Tullieres”. I suddenly realize I have walked as far as the Concord. Incredible. I arrive at the museum and see three gals sitting on the steps outside. Uh-oh. Yes they are American, and the museum closed at 6 PM. ! Okay, the walk was good for a 3 pound loss anyway. Mercury Retrograde.
Back to St. Chappelle in time for the concert which was excellent as always, as well as the ambiance being magnificent. It’s not possible to leave a St. Chappelle concert without a feeling of peace and a quiet joy and satisfaction - .
As I’m walking up the street, a voice behind me speaks in French which of course I don’t understand. And zen ze French voice sez in French accented English , “ I can smell your perfume from way back here” (yikes, I have a moment of guilt, never supposed to douse yourself that heavily) and ze voice continues, “and I like zis smell “. LOLOLOLOL. Of course at this I turn around,
To be continued in Part 2
(long)
I booked my third Paris trip for September 18 and thought as long as I’m over
there I might as well spend a week or so
in Nice and as long as I was so close a week in Greece. The flight over on Air France was wonderful, a delightful young girl sat next to me who was half
French and half Irish. She spoke English with her father’s Irish accent and
French which was her mother’s native tongue beautifully. The stewards were attentive and so pleasant, even the wine which had a fruity taste was good and Le Boueff lunch actually delicious. Of course when I ordered le boueff just as My French seatmate had, it sounded the same to me, but the steward burst out
Laughing. It happens every time I attempt to speak something in French.
I had pre-booked transfers through an agency and expected to be met by the
Minivan driver on arrival. First cue things might not be going smoothly on this
Trip- (the newspaper horoscope said planet Mercury was going retrograde and
All plans for travel and meetings might go awry) he was nowhere to be seen -
phone calls to the office produced “he’ll be there In 10 minutes “ and , Voila, he surely did arrive - an hour later. Wouldn’t have mattered much except for the fact that most taking the flight from Miami were standing out in the cold practically in our
skivies and certainly not dressed for waiting in 6 Celsius (42 degrees Fahrenheit)Weather. When temps fall to 70 F. in Florida, we put on our heavy sweaters!
Never mind, WE ARE IN FRANCE ! Yay. Next the driver kind of tours Paris, which I Really didn’t mind and drops me off at the apartment I had rented. I’m met by the Owner A little nervous Spanish woman, who although born in France, insists she is
Spanish - okay, but She speaks no English at all, I speak no recognizable French, we don’t seem to speak the same Spanish and she telephones her husband Who does translations by phone. The apartment is kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom
with shower only and the main rooms are quite large, and partially furnished with what would be considered fine antique chairs and tables in the U.S. It’s on the ground floor in a perfect location in the 6th, just a few blocks from Luxembourg
Gardens, a few blocks from Monoprix and Montparnasse and there is the bus stop
#96 on the main street, rue Rennes, which goes straight down rue St. Michel
To the Seine. Perfect. Almost. The apartment is cold. Of course, it is the ground floor in a hundred Year old stone building. I notice then there are two portable electric radiators which can be rolled around. Hmmm. And then the husband mentions that they will charge the electric bill since I will be using Heat. Quel surprise. Never mind. Location, location, location, and the price for 10 days was right.
There is a dishwasher and a washing machine, a tv but no CNN, no microwave,
no cable connection. But I have my laptop and I’ll do Wee-Fee.Actually the
apartment could have been spectacular with a paint job and some sprucing up and light bulbs higher than 25 watts.
Madame gives me the keys, explains the numbers to push to enter the main
door and how to turn the keys in the ancient front door to the apt. It is then that I notice 5 locks on the apartment door. Count em. Five. ??? And the husband explains to me very firmly Whenever I leave the apartment I must close the shutters on the 3
gigantic windows and make sure the vertical bar is turned firmly locking. Okay. Hmmmm. As I’m hanging up my clothes, I notice a sawed off shotgun in the
closet. No, I’m not kidding You. Hmmmmm. Now I’m beginning to wonder about
safety here, while my nose begins to run and the sneezing begins. Great!
I must say though for a ground floor apartment it was very quiet. And right across the street was a Velib stand - the new mode of transportation in France - the bicycle.
If I had not torn my knee I would have taken advantage of it. But I would have felt better had the husband not made such an issue of locking windows and shutters. (It turned out to be fine, but with such warnings and excessive locks one can't help but feel unsafe during the stay).
Out I go to Monoprix, my first time food shopping in Paris since I had always
stayed in hotels previously. This is an adventure in itself since I don’t speak, read, write la Francais. So I spend about a ½ hour trying to figure out if the tub marked buerre is cream cheese or butter - and I find ham and Herbed chicken slices for 2 or 4 or 6. Interesting since we don’t have anything like that.
Delicious croissants, brie cheese, salad, a giant alvocado but I cant find the eggs . Finally I ask
a few young men who speak English but don’t understand “eggs,” until I make like a chicken flapping my arms under my armpits and kind of squatting to produce
Eggs in the aisle of Monoprix - and say product of cluck, cluck , cluck. Yep I swear I did .
The word for eggs by the way is something like “oueffs”. I go to the cashier, a nice young
Man, who says in French - he will hold my groceries while I go get my tomatoes. Wow.
Have you ever had a cashier in the US insist you go get your tomatoes and he will hold Your groceries until you come back ? I love Paris.
On the way home, wishing I had one of those kool little grocery carts others had in Monoprix. A man offers to help me carry my groceries which I decline. “Non parlez
Francais, merci.”
Saturday morning, I’m ready to hook up my computer to WeeFee and connect to
Fodor’s and other Sites I had planned to use for Paris and Nice and Greece and to make reservations. No WeeFee. I can connect but Internet Explorer wont allow me to really connect, Up the street I go to an internet store where the manager comes over
to see if he can get my computer connected to WeeFee. Really sweet and nice…who says the French are rude and arrogant? They’re wrong. He tells me about the FNAC Computer
store down the street where they should be able to fix what’s wrong. Three days later, and Practically 3 full days spent in the store with numerous purchases, still No Wee-Fee. Okay. I give up. Teaches me a lesson. Note to self: Book everything on home computer before leaving, as you have always done before “. Next lesson: don’t travel in the future
when your horoscope says Mercury (ruling travel) is going Retrograde in motion)
On Saturday evening I desperately am trying to hail a cab to meet Joan Grace for dinner
at Hotel Le Crillon at one end of the Concord (I think). I arrive late so there is no time
to sit in the lobby and people watch.Since we have never met or traded photos online there are a few moments of hesitancy until we recognize each other . Dinner starts with a glass of champagne, an appetizer of avocado and I think shrimp? Served very
prettily and I had lamb for an entrée which was delicious. The waiter seemed anxious
to rush us through our meal, but I was having none of that, and we were both surprised to see men in t-shirts and jacketless in the restaurant, but it was explained to us that they
were guests of the hotel. Apparently if you are paying $500 and up for your room nightly you can come to the restaurant in your Pajamas if you want to. Quel unelegance
Since I’d been to Paris twice before, I had been to most of the well known sites, but this time I wanted to go to some I had missed or the lesser known like the Roman baths, Fragonard, the Fashion show, The Gardens at Tullieres, a concert
at La Madeleine, L’Orangerie, and of course my beloved concerts at St. Chappelle.
Sunday I go to the Luxembourg Gardens, an absolutely beautiful and warm day, and I’ve
never seen the Luxembourg so crowded. Wall to wall people. Good people watching.And they also had a Flower, herb, and tree show, where you could go into a tent and in
front of each flower they had a vial of its sap from which they make perfumes , and little papers to dip in so you could smell the fragrance. Yeccch. It is hard to believe perfumes
could be made from any of those odors. Back to the Lake where they sail toy boats and people and fashion watching while taking pictures of all the Queens of France as I head
toward the lake. Dinner is at Leon’s of Bruxelles on rue St. Michelle, my favorite mussels,
salad, and 3 scoops of ice cream and raspberry sherbert. MmYumyum. Actually I could eat
moule every day. People watching galore from my table at the front window.
On Monday, I’m still disoriented. Oh, did I mention that the Garmin 370 I had ordered and
Schlepped with me to Paris, and which was supposed to be pre-loaded with France and all European countries, was loaded only with the U.S.? and I already had a Magellan for the U.S.? So I I explore my neighborhood in the 6th arr. on foot without being able to tell
direction or area I’m heading toward. I had been so looking forward to traveling around
Paris streets with my Garmin Pedestrian GPS. and not walking around in circles , lost, for a change. The store windows are enticing.Living in Florida I don’t need boots or coats, but I love the fuschia pink coats in the windows, the heavy Coat sweaters, and the slouchy
boots. There’s a store offering out of season clothing for 5 Euro. WOW 5 Euro, am dying to go in but have other places to go. In the evening I attend the concert at St. Paul de Pauvre Church - it’s alright, a piano recital Of Mozart and Schubert, The artist was quite good
but the accoustics don’t do him justice. The older man sitting next to me wants to Know if I speak French and if I play the piano. Non to both. Funny, except for Joan Grace’
I haven’t been running into Americans, but it is the French who are friendly and attempting To converse whether in English or not.
On Tuesday afternoon I take the bus down to rue du Palais and obtain my ticket to the St. Chappelle concert for that evening. I see a nice gendarme across the street with a spiffy almost pencil thin trimmed moustache , and I approach to ask him the direction for Jardin du Tullieres. “Bon Jour Madame” with a little smile, “bon jour Mouissieure, sil vous plais, quel est la Jardin du Tu - ll - yerrs ?. He says “Twilyers” correcting my French attempt. We are mouth to mouth and I;’m trying to position my lips to imitate “twilyers” but after several attempts and his correcting me, it’s not working…By this time both he and I are smiling broadly, practically laughing, and I wave my hand - like forget it - quel direccion ? A la gouche - twa ___ a la gauche….with much hand motions and my repeating…merci merci and we part smiling and with a wave. To speak French I think your mouth must be in a permanent position as if you are about to pucker up. Lol.
I walk and walk and walk and sure enough there is “Twilyers” -which I really don’t want, I want L’Orangerie museum next door which has an exhibition of Monet’s lilies, as well as Renoir, and Modigliani and several others, but the gendarme had not recognized my pronunciaton of L’Orangerie either so I had switched to “Tullieres”. I suddenly realize I have walked as far as the Concord. Incredible. I arrive at the museum and see three gals sitting on the steps outside. Uh-oh. Yes they are American, and the museum closed at 6 PM. ! Okay, the walk was good for a 3 pound loss anyway. Mercury Retrograde.
Back to St. Chappelle in time for the concert which was excellent as always, as well as the ambiance being magnificent. It’s not possible to leave a St. Chappelle concert without a feeling of peace and a quiet joy and satisfaction - .
As I’m walking up the street, a voice behind me speaks in French which of course I don’t understand. And zen ze French voice sez in French accented English , “ I can smell your perfume from way back here” (yikes, I have a moment of guilt, never supposed to douse yourself that heavily) and ze voice continues, “and I like zis smell “. LOLOLOLOL. Of course at this I turn around,
To be continued in Part 2
Oct 8th, 2008, 01:22 PM
#5
Join Date: Mar 2005
Posts: 1,827
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Mahya.
Great start to your report. I look forward to the rest.
I had to laugh about your attempts at speaking French. Last year while in Paris I went to a Starbucks near my apartment everyday to use the wifi. Phillipe, on of the Baristas, said he was going to help improve my French. By the third day he told me I was hopeless and gave up. Luckily, he and a couple of the other Baristas spoke perfect English.
Tom
Great start to your report. I look forward to the rest.
I had to laugh about your attempts at speaking French. Last year while in Paris I went to a Starbucks near my apartment everyday to use the wifi. Phillipe, on of the Baristas, said he was going to help improve my French. By the third day he told me I was hopeless and gave up. Luckily, he and a couple of the other Baristas spoke perfect English.
Tom
Oct 8th, 2008, 01:39 PM
#6
Join Date: Jan 2004
Posts: 25,877
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Why didn't your Garmin Nuvi 370 come with European maps? Did you get a new one or a refund after you return to the US?
A cold 1st floor apt doesn't sound nice to me. And then getting billed for electric charges? May I ask how much was your rent for 1 week?
A cold 1st floor apt doesn't sound nice to me. And then getting billed for electric charges? May I ask how much was your rent for 1 week?
Oct 8th, 2008, 04:56 PM
#8
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Nikki,
I usually wear either gardenia or jasmine.
Tom,
yeah, I'd like to know why it didn't come loaded with European maps too. I bought it new from a company online and it said it came loaded with European maps.
I usually wear either gardenia or jasmine.
Tom,
yeah, I'd like to know why it didn't come loaded with European maps too. I bought it new from a company online and it said it came loaded with European maps.
Oct 8th, 2008, 05:01 PM
#9
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
YK
the location of the apartment was terrifffic and as I say with a little paint AND a microwave it would have been great. Although I didn't appreciate
the surprise of the electric being extra which was never mentioned in all our correspondence, but which they commonly charge people. It was down the street from Hotel St. Germain and Hotel Aramis -
620 Euro for 10 days + it ended up 18 Euro for the electric for 10 days.
the location of the apartment was terrifffic and as I say with a little paint AND a microwave it would have been great. Although I didn't appreciate
the surprise of the electric being extra which was never mentioned in all our correspondence, but which they commonly charge people. It was down the street from Hotel St. Germain and Hotel Aramis -
620 Euro for 10 days + it ended up 18 Euro for the electric for 10 days.
Oct 8th, 2008, 09:31 PM
#11
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Mahya’s Paris Trip Report Part 2- Sept 08 -
Adventures & Misadventures Galore. The Good, The Bad, And the Positively Terrible.
Part 1 established that things were going wrong as the newspaper horoscope predicted the planet Mercury which rules travel and meetings was going Retrograde, and on Retros whatever can go wrong will.
As I’m leaving St. Chappelle and walking up rue Palais toward the Seine, a voice behind me speaks in French which of course I don’t understand. And zen ze French voice sez in French accented English , “ I can smell your perfume from way back here” (yikes, I have a moment of guilt, never supposed to douse yourself that heavily) and ze voice continues, “and I like zis smell “. LOLOLOLOL. Of course at this I turn around, to see a tall slender Frenchman of about the appropriate age about 10 or 12 feet behind me and closing rapidly. What can you say but “Merci” and continue to walk to cross the street.
Ze Frenchman reaches my side and says I should not cross there, and guides me to the opening between the iron balustrades where you are supposed to cross.
Merci I say.
He asks “Where are you going?
“
Toward St. Germain,
“ Are you Spanish ? he asks‘ (Now I have to explain on my last visit to Paris all the Frenchwomen were wearing blood red lipstick - and it looked so attractive on them, that I bought the same, for more Euro/$ than I have ever spent on a lipstick in the USA and since I am in France - I will wear my RRRRED French lipstick - additionally I am olive skinned, and dark haired and in France I am always taken for French, Italian or Spanish. On this particular day my hair is parted in the middle which I suppose adds to the look - maybe all I needed was castanets.)
" No.
I am American from Florida."
“Oh. I have been to New York and to Fort Lauderdale but it is my regret that I didn’t make it to New Orleans before the tragedy. I like jazz.”
All the while walking with me. By this time we have crossed the Seine and are a block north, and I really intend to find the bus 95 or 96 to go back to the 6th arrondissment.
“My name is Ge’rard ______ and I am a producer for Radio France Culture. (This of course means nothing to me Because I have no idea what Radio France is.) And as we walk Gerard is giving me a blow by blow history of each area and what we are passing. " Hello Gerard, my name is Mahya. " And I stop walking and look up at Gerard, and say “ Am I keeping you from something - I think you were going in the other direction” (hint hint, after all I don’t know you) To which Gerard answers,
“ How can I think when you look at me like that” ( for the rest of my life I will
Grin and laugh out loud whenever I replay those words and his emotional expression in my mind) Okay, that surprised me.
Out of left field. Embarrassing. I dropped my head and stepped back - thrown off my confident stride - also hiding both grin and embarrassment. I do have a direct gaze, but that is the way I look at people and things . Aha. So Gerard was hitting on me. I think. I’ll ignore it.
Gerard says he was heading 300 yards down the street in the 4th , would I rather walk that way?” teasing of course. No, I’m heading this way toward St. Germain. And so Gerard continues to walk with me and give me a guided tour of almost every building and area we pass. I ask questions and comment…and at one point I am looking at something and he wants to know “ Are you listening to me ?” Yes, but I am looking. Actually he’s quite good company and knowledgeable. Even comfortable. He asks me what I do in the United States. I really don’t want to tell him I’m an investigator - I’ve seen the blood drain out of men’s faces when I admit that, so I tell him I work in the law, but I’m not a lawyer.
By now we have been walking about an hour and a half if not two - and my torn knee is paining me right up to my hip even though I’m wearing flats. But you know I’m not going to admit that. So I suggest we stop for a cup of coffee. He takes me to show me the oldest coffeehouse in Paris, with a plaque, where even Benjamin Franklin met with other philosophers and had coffee as well as Voltaire and others. But their service has gone down hill and he doesn’t want to have coffee there. He will take me to the most famous two places in Paris - Hemingway’s Deux Maggots or Flores. And so we walk more.
As we are across the street from Deux Maggots there is a bench, and I tell Gerard I must sit down and rest. Gerard is fascinated with my eyes and is intent on making this clear to me, when I jump up and say let’s get a table and have coffee. And I cross the street and collapse onto the nearest bench behind a little table. At this point I have broken into a sweat rolling down my face, Gerard hands me a napkin, and by chance, I have sat down next to tables full of French doctors and their wives and girlfriends.
“I am a doctor, can I help?” I just need to rest a little and I’ll be alright. “Do you have low blood sugar? When was the last time you ate? “ Yes I am a hypoglycemic but I ate at 7:30. I just need to rest a little. “Waiter, waiter, bring sugar water” Omigawd. I’m in France and the French doctors want to give a hypoglycemic sugar water “ Clue : you don’t give a hypoglycemic sugar or honey, you give them protein, and it wasn’t a hypoglycemic attack.
“No, no just a plain glass of water please. I just need to rest and I’ll be fine “ - The doctor’s wife on the bench next to me, says here lay down on the bench- very kind, I say no, no that’s alright, but she gets up and I do. I close my eyes for a couple of minutes and realize my heart is racing and I hear Gerard and the doctors discussing what hospital to go to. Yikes. I don’t speak French and they are planning on taking me to a hospital. I open my eyes and there are Four young men in blue uniforms in front of me. “Un du, twa cuatro….” I say. What is this?
“We are paramedics and we have ambulance to take you to hospital” they somehow got across because not one of them speaks much English. No, no I don’t want to go to the hospital. This as one is trying to get a blood pressure wrap around my right arm and another is trying to take my pulse on the left arm.
“She has a very high blood pressure,the right says - “she has no pulse”.the left says . Did you ever kind of have an out of body experience where you’re consciousness is kind of outside your body and observing and listening? And chuckling ?. That’s kind of what it’s like. When I heard I had a high blood pressure but no pulse I knew this could be a disaster. But I‘m not going to say you cant have a high blood pressure and no pulse. Cause I cant speak French.. “No I wont go to the hospital. I dont speak French, they don’t speak English” Gerard says- “ I will go with you and translate”. Paramedics : we cannot leave you here. We are responsible.” They’re not going away, I’m not getting anywhere with them, and How embarrassing the entire front of the restaurant is looking - I’d better go and not cause them a loss of business and a scene - this is what I’m thinking. Okay, Gerard will come and translate. Four guys bumpily carry me to the ambulance in a chair. The ambulance is really swaying and bumpy,,,,and I’m holding onto the railing above me so I wont be thrown on the floor of the ambulance. And the carbon monoxide is flowing straight into the ambulance from the exhaust pipe near the window. I put my hand over my nose and say, “migawd , the carbon monoxide could kill you!” The paramedic thinks I want oxygen and motions do I want the oxygen mask…no no, and Gerard closes the window.
Had enough? No , wait, it gets better-er worse. They take me into the emergency room, three nurses, two doctors - and hook me up to machines. Well my heart rate IS 178 beats a minute, 3 times normal - maybe it’s a good thing I came. Then they take an EKG. And the nurses on the right are looking for a vein to stick. I ask for a small needle, partially in Italian which I think they may have a chance of understanding , un piccolo, they try to stab the back of my hand, that doesn’t work, stab my lower forearm, that doesn’t work, stab the crease at my elbow , nope, then the real nurse comes over and easily and painlessly sticks a needle in my left arm.
I wont tell you about the black blue and purple bruises I walked around with - looking like some kind of junkie on my right arm, while not a mark remained on my left arm. I’m also asking for a pillow for my neck - and try to raise myself a bit. The French resident who speaks no English and is a rather large black man, takes his big paw and pushes my head down by the
Forehead. While the nurse on my left puts both hands around my neck and begins choking me. Yes. I mean it. She was choking me. And I’m thinking - omigawd, what is it with these French and necks and guillotines! Good lord, if I had a clot in the carotid this would have moved it up to the brain and gawdfbid I would have had a stroke. I say rather strongly, “ “You’re choking me !!!” “I’m going to throw up”. Apparently no one understands “I;m going to throw up and the big paw keeps pushing me down by the forehead. An English speaker says, “she has done this before, it brings down the blood pressure” - Oh yeah. I’ll bet it does. Permanently. Okay, they see that’s not working, and actually I’m feeling better just lying down, but they have the IV in now and are moving me to what we would call an ICU “watching room”.
Before they do move me, around 12:30 or 1 Am a nurse comes in and says Gerard says to tell you he is going home now and call him tomorrow. Okay yes. Since I don’t know what’s happening next, this at the time is the least of my worries. By the way,thank goodness I never travel without insurance, both trip interruption and medical covered.
I’m turned over to the nurses who are quite nice and even speak English. About 3 AM my heart beat is stabilized and the lady cardiologist shows up and explains what has happened is not unusual , they even see it in 20 year olds, she is giving me a prescription and I must see my cardiologist when I go to the USA and she will give me their records to bring with me. She calls it an electrical problem - a misfiring- miscommunication between the lobes of the heart,
The receptionist gives me Gerard’s phone number which is on her typewritten report and says he asked you to call him tomorrow.
Quell experience !! The doctors could kill you, but the nurses are very very good.
Now you all want a happy ending right? Yeah, me too. I wish there was one.
I called the number the nurse typed, the next day. She had typed the wrong number. I have no idea what the right number is, nor did she since she threw her notes away, and the ‘French do not have telephone books like we do since most don’t have land lines. Gerard certainly is listed with Radio France but there is no address or telephone number.There is even a photo of him with other producers. He must be some celebrity or something.
Absolutely one of the most romantic meetings of my life - and then a totally absurd night of my life. I will not soon forget Gerard and I certainly don’t think he will soon forget this crazy American for more than one reason. I did hear him telling the nurse, he had never seen anything like this happen in his entire life. He must have been frightened but he was also a very very nice person to be brave and to come to the hospital with me and even to wait.
Right now Oct 8, instead of typing this in my home in Florida I should be leaving from Nice to board a plane back to Paris to go to Greece for a week. And I miss being in Paris. Forever when I go back, I will always wonder if I could find Gerard. What a missed opportunity. I finally meet one who is not a frog. Okay, he is a frog, as Chomley Warner would define the French, but a prince of a frog.
Adventures & Misadventures Galore. The Good, The Bad, And the Positively Terrible.
Part 1 established that things were going wrong as the newspaper horoscope predicted the planet Mercury which rules travel and meetings was going Retrograde, and on Retros whatever can go wrong will.
As I’m leaving St. Chappelle and walking up rue Palais toward the Seine, a voice behind me speaks in French which of course I don’t understand. And zen ze French voice sez in French accented English , “ I can smell your perfume from way back here” (yikes, I have a moment of guilt, never supposed to douse yourself that heavily) and ze voice continues, “and I like zis smell “. LOLOLOLOL. Of course at this I turn around, to see a tall slender Frenchman of about the appropriate age about 10 or 12 feet behind me and closing rapidly. What can you say but “Merci” and continue to walk to cross the street.
Ze Frenchman reaches my side and says I should not cross there, and guides me to the opening between the iron balustrades where you are supposed to cross.
Merci I say.
He asks “Where are you going?
“
Toward St. Germain,
“ Are you Spanish ? he asks‘ (Now I have to explain on my last visit to Paris all the Frenchwomen were wearing blood red lipstick - and it looked so attractive on them, that I bought the same, for more Euro/$ than I have ever spent on a lipstick in the USA and since I am in France - I will wear my RRRRED French lipstick - additionally I am olive skinned, and dark haired and in France I am always taken for French, Italian or Spanish. On this particular day my hair is parted in the middle which I suppose adds to the look - maybe all I needed was castanets.)
" No.
I am American from Florida."
“Oh. I have been to New York and to Fort Lauderdale but it is my regret that I didn’t make it to New Orleans before the tragedy. I like jazz.”
All the while walking with me. By this time we have crossed the Seine and are a block north, and I really intend to find the bus 95 or 96 to go back to the 6th arrondissment.
“My name is Ge’rard ______ and I am a producer for Radio France Culture. (This of course means nothing to me Because I have no idea what Radio France is.) And as we walk Gerard is giving me a blow by blow history of each area and what we are passing. " Hello Gerard, my name is Mahya. " And I stop walking and look up at Gerard, and say “ Am I keeping you from something - I think you were going in the other direction” (hint hint, after all I don’t know you) To which Gerard answers,
“ How can I think when you look at me like that” ( for the rest of my life I will
Grin and laugh out loud whenever I replay those words and his emotional expression in my mind) Okay, that surprised me.
Out of left field. Embarrassing. I dropped my head and stepped back - thrown off my confident stride - also hiding both grin and embarrassment. I do have a direct gaze, but that is the way I look at people and things . Aha. So Gerard was hitting on me. I think. I’ll ignore it.
Gerard says he was heading 300 yards down the street in the 4th , would I rather walk that way?” teasing of course. No, I’m heading this way toward St. Germain. And so Gerard continues to walk with me and give me a guided tour of almost every building and area we pass. I ask questions and comment…and at one point I am looking at something and he wants to know “ Are you listening to me ?” Yes, but I am looking. Actually he’s quite good company and knowledgeable. Even comfortable. He asks me what I do in the United States. I really don’t want to tell him I’m an investigator - I’ve seen the blood drain out of men’s faces when I admit that, so I tell him I work in the law, but I’m not a lawyer.
By now we have been walking about an hour and a half if not two - and my torn knee is paining me right up to my hip even though I’m wearing flats. But you know I’m not going to admit that. So I suggest we stop for a cup of coffee. He takes me to show me the oldest coffeehouse in Paris, with a plaque, where even Benjamin Franklin met with other philosophers and had coffee as well as Voltaire and others. But their service has gone down hill and he doesn’t want to have coffee there. He will take me to the most famous two places in Paris - Hemingway’s Deux Maggots or Flores. And so we walk more.
As we are across the street from Deux Maggots there is a bench, and I tell Gerard I must sit down and rest. Gerard is fascinated with my eyes and is intent on making this clear to me, when I jump up and say let’s get a table and have coffee. And I cross the street and collapse onto the nearest bench behind a little table. At this point I have broken into a sweat rolling down my face, Gerard hands me a napkin, and by chance, I have sat down next to tables full of French doctors and their wives and girlfriends.
“I am a doctor, can I help?” I just need to rest a little and I’ll be alright. “Do you have low blood sugar? When was the last time you ate? “ Yes I am a hypoglycemic but I ate at 7:30. I just need to rest a little. “Waiter, waiter, bring sugar water” Omigawd. I’m in France and the French doctors want to give a hypoglycemic sugar water “ Clue : you don’t give a hypoglycemic sugar or honey, you give them protein, and it wasn’t a hypoglycemic attack.
“No, no just a plain glass of water please. I just need to rest and I’ll be fine “ - The doctor’s wife on the bench next to me, says here lay down on the bench- very kind, I say no, no that’s alright, but she gets up and I do. I close my eyes for a couple of minutes and realize my heart is racing and I hear Gerard and the doctors discussing what hospital to go to. Yikes. I don’t speak French and they are planning on taking me to a hospital. I open my eyes and there are Four young men in blue uniforms in front of me. “Un du, twa cuatro….” I say. What is this?
“We are paramedics and we have ambulance to take you to hospital” they somehow got across because not one of them speaks much English. No, no I don’t want to go to the hospital. This as one is trying to get a blood pressure wrap around my right arm and another is trying to take my pulse on the left arm.
“She has a very high blood pressure,the right says - “she has no pulse”.the left says . Did you ever kind of have an out of body experience where you’re consciousness is kind of outside your body and observing and listening? And chuckling ?. That’s kind of what it’s like. When I heard I had a high blood pressure but no pulse I knew this could be a disaster. But I‘m not going to say you cant have a high blood pressure and no pulse. Cause I cant speak French.. “No I wont go to the hospital. I dont speak French, they don’t speak English” Gerard says- “ I will go with you and translate”. Paramedics : we cannot leave you here. We are responsible.” They’re not going away, I’m not getting anywhere with them, and How embarrassing the entire front of the restaurant is looking - I’d better go and not cause them a loss of business and a scene - this is what I’m thinking. Okay, Gerard will come and translate. Four guys bumpily carry me to the ambulance in a chair. The ambulance is really swaying and bumpy,,,,and I’m holding onto the railing above me so I wont be thrown on the floor of the ambulance. And the carbon monoxide is flowing straight into the ambulance from the exhaust pipe near the window. I put my hand over my nose and say, “migawd , the carbon monoxide could kill you!” The paramedic thinks I want oxygen and motions do I want the oxygen mask…no no, and Gerard closes the window.
Had enough? No , wait, it gets better-er worse. They take me into the emergency room, three nurses, two doctors - and hook me up to machines. Well my heart rate IS 178 beats a minute, 3 times normal - maybe it’s a good thing I came. Then they take an EKG. And the nurses on the right are looking for a vein to stick. I ask for a small needle, partially in Italian which I think they may have a chance of understanding , un piccolo, they try to stab the back of my hand, that doesn’t work, stab my lower forearm, that doesn’t work, stab the crease at my elbow , nope, then the real nurse comes over and easily and painlessly sticks a needle in my left arm.
I wont tell you about the black blue and purple bruises I walked around with - looking like some kind of junkie on my right arm, while not a mark remained on my left arm. I’m also asking for a pillow for my neck - and try to raise myself a bit. The French resident who speaks no English and is a rather large black man, takes his big paw and pushes my head down by the
Forehead. While the nurse on my left puts both hands around my neck and begins choking me. Yes. I mean it. She was choking me. And I’m thinking - omigawd, what is it with these French and necks and guillotines! Good lord, if I had a clot in the carotid this would have moved it up to the brain and gawdfbid I would have had a stroke. I say rather strongly, “ “You’re choking me !!!” “I’m going to throw up”. Apparently no one understands “I;m going to throw up and the big paw keeps pushing me down by the forehead. An English speaker says, “she has done this before, it brings down the blood pressure” - Oh yeah. I’ll bet it does. Permanently. Okay, they see that’s not working, and actually I’m feeling better just lying down, but they have the IV in now and are moving me to what we would call an ICU “watching room”.
Before they do move me, around 12:30 or 1 Am a nurse comes in and says Gerard says to tell you he is going home now and call him tomorrow. Okay yes. Since I don’t know what’s happening next, this at the time is the least of my worries. By the way,thank goodness I never travel without insurance, both trip interruption and medical covered.
I’m turned over to the nurses who are quite nice and even speak English. About 3 AM my heart beat is stabilized and the lady cardiologist shows up and explains what has happened is not unusual , they even see it in 20 year olds, she is giving me a prescription and I must see my cardiologist when I go to the USA and she will give me their records to bring with me. She calls it an electrical problem - a misfiring- miscommunication between the lobes of the heart,
The receptionist gives me Gerard’s phone number which is on her typewritten report and says he asked you to call him tomorrow.
Quell experience !! The doctors could kill you, but the nurses are very very good.
Now you all want a happy ending right? Yeah, me too. I wish there was one.
I called the number the nurse typed, the next day. She had typed the wrong number. I have no idea what the right number is, nor did she since she threw her notes away, and the ‘French do not have telephone books like we do since most don’t have land lines. Gerard certainly is listed with Radio France but there is no address or telephone number.There is even a photo of him with other producers. He must be some celebrity or something.
Absolutely one of the most romantic meetings of my life - and then a totally absurd night of my life. I will not soon forget Gerard and I certainly don’t think he will soon forget this crazy American for more than one reason. I did hear him telling the nurse, he had never seen anything like this happen in his entire life. He must have been frightened but he was also a very very nice person to be brave and to come to the hospital with me and even to wait.
Right now Oct 8, instead of typing this in my home in Florida I should be leaving from Nice to board a plane back to Paris to go to Greece for a week. And I miss being in Paris. Forever when I go back, I will always wonder if I could find Gerard. What a missed opportunity. I finally meet one who is not a frog. Okay, he is a frog, as Chomley Warner would define the French, but a prince of a frog.
Oct 9th, 2008, 05:54 AM
#14
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Nikki
<you sure know how to show a guy a good time>
thanks Nikki, that gave me a hearty laugh
Weekender,
Thanks for the good wishes, the lady cardiologist was right, maybe it starts with a missed heartbeat (mitral valve prolapse) and the US doc confirmed "electrical missed communication": - they have a way to fix it non surgically they tell me so it will never happen again - whew - that would be nice- and I would not have to continue the medication the French doc gave me or any medication - truthfully it happened once before about 3 years ago, and no US doc had a clue what it was...typically they told me it was all in my mind; my heart, EKG, tests were perfect - If you dont catch it while it's happening they dont see anything wrong - but the French EKG looked like an etch a sketch of lowest to highest valleys..
.so there is a silver lining - now is that an optimistic view point or what ?
<you sure know how to show a guy a good time>
thanks Nikki, that gave me a hearty laugh
Weekender,
Thanks for the good wishes, the lady cardiologist was right, maybe it starts with a missed heartbeat (mitral valve prolapse) and the US doc confirmed "electrical missed communication": - they have a way to fix it non surgically they tell me so it will never happen again - whew - that would be nice- and I would not have to continue the medication the French doc gave me or any medication - truthfully it happened once before about 3 years ago, and no US doc had a clue what it was...typically they told me it was all in my mind; my heart, EKG, tests were perfect - If you dont catch it while it's happening they dont see anything wrong - but the French EKG looked like an etch a sketch of lowest to highest valleys..
.so there is a silver lining - now is that an optimistic view point or what ?
Oct 9th, 2008, 07:31 AM
#17
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Guys, I'm fine.
Unfortunately I have to wait til November for the first appointment with the specialist who apparently fixes this.
My first thought before seeing the US cardio, was a worry that I'd never be able to travel alone again. But since this can be taken care of non surgically and with no medications I'm relieved.
I suspect it was the pain I was in which makes the adrenals pump because you're in pain, plus the cold I caught affecting the mitral valve prolapse - a common condition - leaky valve- which I've had all my life - all you have to do is take anti-biotics before going to the dentist - I'm sure many of you know of it - but jet lag, catching a cold, walking for two hours in pain, adrenals running - I suspect all of that activated the episode.
The hospital did not take my full address or phone number and I'm left wondering if Gerard also contacted the hospital to find out how I was and was also trying to find me.
Drat!
Unfortunately I have to wait til November for the first appointment with the specialist who apparently fixes this.
My first thought before seeing the US cardio, was a worry that I'd never be able to travel alone again. But since this can be taken care of non surgically and with no medications I'm relieved.
I suspect it was the pain I was in which makes the adrenals pump because you're in pain, plus the cold I caught affecting the mitral valve prolapse - a common condition - leaky valve- which I've had all my life - all you have to do is take anti-biotics before going to the dentist - I'm sure many of you know of it - but jet lag, catching a cold, walking for two hours in pain, adrenals running - I suspect all of that activated the episode.
The hospital did not take my full address or phone number and I'm left wondering if Gerard also contacted the hospital to find out how I was and was also trying to find me.
Drat!
Oct 9th, 2008, 07:35 AM
#18
Join Date: Aug 2008
Posts: 1,887
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
I suggest that once you get your problem "fixed" you immediately fly to Paris and roam the streets until you find Gerard. Start at the Eiffel Tower. Something on the order of An Affair to Remember.....
Oct 9th, 2008, 07:42 AM
#19
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Meanwhile, everyone should make a note from my experience.
DO NOT EVER TRAVEL WITHOUT INSURANCE WHICH COVERS MEDICAL EMERGENCIES AND TRIP INTERRUPTION.
Oddly the hospital did not give me a bill - and could not send one since the only part of my address they wrote down was "beach, Florida" and they certainly deserve to be paid,
And the trip interruption will pay for the increase in my unscheduled flight home, and the cancellation of all the things I had pre-paid for. Important considerations.
BUY TRAVEL INSURANCE WHENEVER YOU TRAVEL WHICH COVERS NOT JUST LOST LUGGAGE, BUT MEDICAL AND TRIP INTERRUPTION . please.
DO NOT EVER TRAVEL WITHOUT INSURANCE WHICH COVERS MEDICAL EMERGENCIES AND TRIP INTERRUPTION.
Oddly the hospital did not give me a bill - and could not send one since the only part of my address they wrote down was "beach, Florida" and they certainly deserve to be paid,
And the trip interruption will pay for the increase in my unscheduled flight home, and the cancellation of all the things I had pre-paid for. Important considerations.
BUY TRAVEL INSURANCE WHENEVER YOU TRAVEL WHICH COVERS NOT JUST LOST LUGGAGE, BUT MEDICAL AND TRIP INTERRUPTION . please.
Oct 9th, 2008, 07:45 AM
#20
Original Poster
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 2,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Weekender
<I suggest that once you get your problem "fixed" you immediately fly to Paris and roam the streets until you find Gerard. Start at the Eiffel Tower. Something on the order of An Affair to Remember.....>
Romantic isn't it.
Well, I thought of standing in front of St. Chappelle
until he passes by once again. lol
<I suggest that once you get your problem "fixed" you immediately fly to Paris and roam the streets until you find Gerard. Start at the Eiffel Tower. Something on the order of An Affair to Remember.....>
Romantic isn't it.
Well, I thought of standing in front of St. Chappelle
until he passes by once again. lol
