March 15, 2002 - 10:18 a.m.
A summary of Paris Part 1, cause it is certainly more uplifting to talk about my trip than the week that I have been having since I got back.
Day 0 � Traveling with my mother is something that really has to be experienced rather than described. For those of you that might not know my Mom is this nice little old lady with a walker � and she talks more than I ever will. In fact it is not until I moved out of the house and home that I think I learned to talk, I mean really why learn something you will never have a chance to use. :)
Packing � she arrived at my house with 1 normal looking suitcase (for the 2 days at my place), 1 case larger than a fighter�s body, 1 large jansport backpack, 1 duffel bag, 1 walker, 1 cane, 1 purse/backback and 16 file folders of paperwork. This scared me. I then proceeded to pack everything I own into one garment bag. One of the useful skills I learned consulting. Just call me packmule for the rest of the trip.
The airport. Well we were dropped of by one �Ragnarr�s Taxi� and left to find the check in and security. Did I mention that Mom is diabetic and travels with NEEDLES and lots of different drugs? This should be high entertainment. SO we give over the check bags, all 2 of them and move forward to security. The little old lady wit the walker seems to evoke I don�t know sympathy? We are asked to come around the line and go strait through. I hold my breath, they scan the bag and ... nothing. Not a word. Not a blip, Nothing. But they do ask me to take of my shoes. Go figure. That is right. I had to take off my shoes cause I might have had deadly loafers but no one even flinched at the needles, lancets, and pharmacopoeia of drugs. This does not add to my sense of comfort as we go toddling on through Dulles to find the gate and wait out the 3.5 hours remaining before the flight.
Middle seat. I have nothing more to say about the flight.
Day 1 � Ah, Paris. Ah, Charles de Galle. They have lost the walker. What a way to kick of my rusty French than at baggage services. Good news � they find it about an hour later. Happily we leave to go find the hotel and Dialysis Center. We succeed at both.
So here I am in wondrous Paris. It is noon, Mom is happily sleeping at the center and I have free time and a map. Yippee. Never mind the fact that I have had no sleep in 30 hours � I walk to the �Place de Bastille.� You got it, the place the Bastille prison USED to be. It is a lovely traffic circle now. I encountered my first Metro sign. You have to understand; I come from DC where Metro means orange interiors and things designed in a decade I drooled through. Paris is all about art noveau and decorative signs. Sweeping patinaed copper arches, ruby domed gas lanterns. Ceramic tiles with quatrefoils, and stairs. Stairs everywhere. I have figured it out. Parisiennes do not get large eating all that good food cause they have STAIRS.
Oh yeah, Mom, must go back for her. Return to the Dialysis center to find that SHE has had sleep. So we go back to the hotel, change and find one of those silly bus tours of the city. It was nice, the parts I was awake for at least. *grin*
Next Installment � Day 2 � Mom, the Metro, and ohmigod the Cluny.
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