Headed to England in 9 days, I find myself wondering if this is where best to record my experiences. Let me see if it’s possible to post.
Sunday, May 25, 2025
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Deborah Elizabeth
I do not let myself rest long there—
Aware of constant absence, where ache arises
I am relieved:
There will be no moldering in soil
Though true— haunting— she left us frozen
She yet departed earth burning
Burning
And resides in Purple clay, glazed in
Fire
Friday, September 11, 2015
The way home
Wednesday morning. I am going to drop the kids off at Vero's and continue north to CDG. These trips together will take, per Google maps, 1 hour. So I budget about 4.
Even so, I get to the airport a bit after I am supposed to. Luckily for me, my Wow flight (through Iceland, £210) is late.
I hate Paris. But I am on my way home.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Even so, I get to the airport a bit after I am supposed to. Luckily for me, my Wow flight (through Iceland, £210) is late.
I hate Paris. But I am on my way home.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Departing from CDG
Tuesday morning, day of my departure. I arrange for one more night at the hotel for the kids because Alex is so sick--she needs rest, and plenty of it. We don't have a key to Vero's place (kids' next overnight), and Alex would otherwise have to clear out of the hotel by 10am and tote her bags around all day, because Vero has to work.
I take James out on one more attempt to obtain the adapter that the kids need. I also ask him to promise to take one of the backpacks over to Vero's at 6 and get the key, as well as to carry the other backpack over tomorrow, so Alex isn't doing anything too strenuous.
I hug the kids goodbye and get in the car to the airport. It's a 36-minute journey, according to Google maps, and I'm due at 2 for a 3pm flight. I leave the lot at 12:49. I get to the airport at 4:57. Yup, 4:57.
In Paris, roads move slowly. I mean, slooooooowwwwwwwly. I was tootling along happily until 1:12. Then: stoppage. Not just a slowdown, but a stoppage. There are moments of inching forward, then minutes of being stopped. This continues for the next 50 minutes.
I know that the NAV system has the airport pre-programmed, as it has been harassing me for a few exits, noting to me in French that traffic on the A86 is not moving. But the NAV has proved maybe 80% reliable at giving me the fastest way to get someplace. Once 2pm rolls by, however, and I still don't see any planes taking off or landing, I go with the NAV system.
I exit the highway and begin a tense trip on surface roads to the airport, knowing that my arrival will be late. After a whirligig turn at the beginning, the journey is pretty uncomplicated. After much too much time passes, voila, I see planes! Then, a sign: Orly Airport. But...the NAV was taking me to Charles De Gaulle! Wasn't it?!? I verified, and it was...LISTED as CDG. But taking me to Orly. Back, essentially, to where I had started.
Remember, I have no mobile phone, and no cellular data. I park the car at 2:52 and beg phone and wi-fi usage from strangers and shopkeepers, trying to reach my airline, Swiss Air. When I do, it is no help at all. It tells me that I need to call United, because that's who my ticket is booked through. (I have zero flights with United, this entire trip.) Repeated searches of United's website reveal no phone number that can be used in France. So I get back in the car at 3:22, headed to CDG, to talk to a live United clerk, in person, at a check-in counter. Maybe I can get on another flight.
Hence, I get to CDG at 4:57. You know what? All the United staff had gone home already. I finally found a number on the website (using airport wi-fi) that is listed as one for use in France. I call it, and reach a fax machine.
I don't give up. I spend 40 minutes on the phone with the service that booked this package deal for me. They can't reach anyone at United, either! I realize that I'm going to have to book, and pay for, another flight home.
Plus, I had another horrible food experience, a pesto sandwich at the airport that tasted like it was made of sand.
I hate Paris.
I rented a new car overnight and went back to the hotel.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I take James out on one more attempt to obtain the adapter that the kids need. I also ask him to promise to take one of the backpacks over to Vero's at 6 and get the key, as well as to carry the other backpack over tomorrow, so Alex isn't doing anything too strenuous.
I hug the kids goodbye and get in the car to the airport. It's a 36-minute journey, according to Google maps, and I'm due at 2 for a 3pm flight. I leave the lot at 12:49. I get to the airport at 4:57. Yup, 4:57.
In Paris, roads move slowly. I mean, slooooooowwwwwwwly. I was tootling along happily until 1:12. Then: stoppage. Not just a slowdown, but a stoppage. There are moments of inching forward, then minutes of being stopped. This continues for the next 50 minutes.
I know that the NAV system has the airport pre-programmed, as it has been harassing me for a few exits, noting to me in French that traffic on the A86 is not moving. But the NAV has proved maybe 80% reliable at giving me the fastest way to get someplace. Once 2pm rolls by, however, and I still don't see any planes taking off or landing, I go with the NAV system.
I exit the highway and begin a tense trip on surface roads to the airport, knowing that my arrival will be late. After a whirligig turn at the beginning, the journey is pretty uncomplicated. After much too much time passes, voila, I see planes! Then, a sign: Orly Airport. But...the NAV was taking me to Charles De Gaulle! Wasn't it?!? I verified, and it was...LISTED as CDG. But taking me to Orly. Back, essentially, to where I had started.
Remember, I have no mobile phone, and no cellular data. I park the car at 2:52 and beg phone and wi-fi usage from strangers and shopkeepers, trying to reach my airline, Swiss Air. When I do, it is no help at all. It tells me that I need to call United, because that's who my ticket is booked through. (I have zero flights with United, this entire trip.) Repeated searches of United's website reveal no phone number that can be used in France. So I get back in the car at 3:22, headed to CDG, to talk to a live United clerk, in person, at a check-in counter. Maybe I can get on another flight.
Hence, I get to CDG at 4:57. You know what? All the United staff had gone home already. I finally found a number on the website (using airport wi-fi) that is listed as one for use in France. I call it, and reach a fax machine.
I don't give up. I spend 40 minutes on the phone with the service that booked this package deal for me. They can't reach anyone at United, either! I realize that I'm going to have to book, and pay for, another flight home.
Plus, I had another horrible food experience, a pesto sandwich at the airport that tasted like it was made of sand.
I hate Paris.
I rented a new car overnight and went back to the hotel.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Damn Paris
We had dinner on night 1, after Versailles, at Chez Clement, a chain. I had inedible lamb, it was so fatty. James did order escargots, which Alex loved. Our hotel, advertised as being "in" Versailles, was in such a sketchy neighborhood of PARIS that we did not dare go far; hence, the chain.
With Paris as home base, we traveled to Chambord to see the Chateau. But Alex was increasingly troubled by an ear infection. Without mobile phones or cellular data, we traipsed from town to town seeking a pharmacy, where in Europe one goes first to consult.
In one town, the pharmacy was closed on Mondays, and the only doctor 'lived' at the church. He must have been conducting a service--no answer to our knock, and sounds of a heavenly choir. When we finally found an open pharmacy, two towns on, the pharmacist's advice was: go to a doctor. He pointed one out, across the street.
That doctor could not see us for like 5 hours. We continued on to urgent care at a hospital in the next town. There, when Alex's temperature was taken, it was 102!
We returned to Paris after picking up loads of meds for illing Alex. We sent out for Indian food, which was...disappointing! Damn Paris.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
With Paris as home base, we traveled to Chambord to see the Chateau. But Alex was increasingly troubled by an ear infection. Without mobile phones or cellular data, we traipsed from town to town seeking a pharmacy, where in Europe one goes first to consult.
In one town, the pharmacy was closed on Mondays, and the only doctor 'lived' at the church. He must have been conducting a service--no answer to our knock, and sounds of a heavenly choir. When we finally found an open pharmacy, two towns on, the pharmacist's advice was: go to a doctor. He pointed one out, across the street.
That doctor could not see us for like 5 hours. We continued on to urgent care at a hospital in the next town. There, when Alex's temperature was taken, it was 102!
We returned to Paris after picking up loads of meds for illing Alex. We sent out for Indian food, which was...disappointing! Damn Paris.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
The country house
After leaving Le Havre, we visited Vero's country home on the way to Versailles.
We met her husband Geoffrey, 8-year-old daughter Blanche, and 18-year-old daughter Violette, as well as some neighbors who were offering social opportunity to a senior.
The country house was amazing, spectacular; and so was the lunch! It was prepared by Geoffrey, so all my talk to the kids about what an amazing cook Vero is has yet to be substantiated.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
We met her husband Geoffrey, 8-year-old daughter Blanche, and 18-year-old daughter Violette, as well as some neighbors who were offering social opportunity to a senior.
The country house was amazing, spectacular; and so was the lunch! It was prepared by Geoffrey, so all my talk to the kids about what an amazing cook Vero is has yet to be substantiated.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Le Havre est bon!
The ferry to Le Havre was nice: comfortable, with private bath and nice linens. We were on the deck with the bar, info station, and restaurant, each just round the corner.
Le Havre itself was VERY nice--though, architecturally, per Vero's husband Geoffrey, it is all made up of cubes because it was bombed to the ground during WWII. Our hotel, a very tall cube, had whirlpool, sauna, and steam room, so of course we made use. It was right next door to this (where we entered our car park):
The boulangeries (bakeries) were amazing, simply amazing, and so inexpensive! Artful and sinful tarts, pastries, breads, cakes, and layered slices of heaven, not a one more than €3 that I saw, most around €2.20.
Alex quickly developed a baguette habit, and announced that she could survive on nothing but baguettes and butter for the rest of the time she spent in France. (When James & Alex tried the butter over here, they marveled at the flavor.) And don't even get me started about the chocolates!
Our first lunch was at a place top-rated by Trip Advisor, La Voile Bleue (I think). There I had the best shrimp dish, roasted, that I have ever eaten. They were prepared in a pesto-like sauce with extra herbs added, and served with the heads and tails on. James tried salmon mousse (terrine), which he did not love, but kudos for bravery. At our hotel, for dinner, Alex had duck breast, which she pronounced the best she'd ever had. (Pictured, a hotel breakfast, sans croissant, but nice plate!)
The weekend was supposed to bring a festival of the sea, with parade and fireworks, but it rained. However, the day we left, a market appeared downtown--such a market! Handmade pastas and sausages, paella cooking in mammoth pans over fires, vibrant and enticing fruits and flowers and vegetables...I had to buy some grapes that were barely green, tinged with pink. I had never seen nor tasted them before. My, they were good.
Le Havre est bon!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Le Havre itself was VERY nice--though, architecturally, per Vero's husband Geoffrey, it is all made up of cubes because it was bombed to the ground during WWII. Our hotel, a very tall cube, had whirlpool, sauna, and steam room, so of course we made use. It was right next door to this (where we entered our car park):
The boulangeries (bakeries) were amazing, simply amazing, and so inexpensive! Artful and sinful tarts, pastries, breads, cakes, and layered slices of heaven, not a one more than €3 that I saw, most around €2.20.
Alex quickly developed a baguette habit, and announced that she could survive on nothing but baguettes and butter for the rest of the time she spent in France. (When James & Alex tried the butter over here, they marveled at the flavor.) And don't even get me started about the chocolates!
Our first lunch was at a place top-rated by Trip Advisor, La Voile Bleue (I think). There I had the best shrimp dish, roasted, that I have ever eaten. They were prepared in a pesto-like sauce with extra herbs added, and served with the heads and tails on. James tried salmon mousse (terrine), which he did not love, but kudos for bravery. At our hotel, for dinner, Alex had duck breast, which she pronounced the best she'd ever had. (Pictured, a hotel breakfast, sans croissant, but nice plate!)
The weekend was supposed to bring a festival of the sea, with parade and fireworks, but it rained. However, the day we left, a market appeared downtown--such a market! Handmade pastas and sausages, paella cooking in mammoth pans over fires, vibrant and enticing fruits and flowers and vegetables...I had to buy some grapes that were barely green, tinged with pink. I had never seen nor tasted them before. My, they were good.
Le Havre est bon!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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