Public transportation

Two sundays ago, we ventured out to IKEA.  This was a noteworthy event as it was 1) actually our second trip to IKEA and 2) we got there entirely by public transportation. 

The public transportation system in Paris is fantastic.  It is cheap, clean, reliable, and user friendly after just a few times using it.  The subway system, bus system and rail lines are all integrated together and a monthly pass for one works for all.  However, for this Mississippi girl, it did take some getting used to.  No one is rude, they are all just trying to get where they need to go.  The Metro can get very busy at peak times.  James loves riding the Metro but getting shoved on at rush hour can be overwhelming.  He only loves it if he can sit down.  Plus the Metro is not stoller friendly, not at all...  The beautiful subway in DC and even Marta in Atlanta have elevators and escalators to take stollers up and down.  Not the Metro.  I have seen elevators at perhaps 1 Metro stop out of 12.  It is a lot of stairs and twists and turns and then more stairs and then you are not even at your platform but must go through this platform to reach your platform that means more stairs, and more twists and turns and stairs.  For the first two weeks to get James to school, I carried Mary Martin on my hip and the collaspable stoller on my shoulder.  When we finally emerged from the Metro at our stop, after more stairs, she was finally able to go in the stoller.  Very tiring... 

Did I mention it is a lot of stairs?

Then we discovered the bus.  Much more stoller friendly.  They have large sections on the bus where stollers can be parked, so Mary Martin can just be rolled on and rolled off.  Plus, people actually help you get stollers on and off the bus.  On the Metro they just rush by.  I fell completely in love with the bus when I realized it got us to James' school faster and with less walking then the Metro.  The trick was convincing James.  I had to tell him the Metro was "broken" for a couple of days to get him on it.  Then he realized a girl in his class takes our same bus home and now he loves it.  Plus you can actually see the city go by on the bus, instead of just ads on the Metro.  Of course, no gypsies with music to entertain on the bus or even the random puppet show like the one we got last weekend.  A whole new meaning to the song Woolly Bully is all I am saying. 

So our second trip to IKEA... 

The week before this trip to IKEA Jim and I went to IKEA by ourselves.  Gee (Gail) was still here to watch the kids.  We were lazy and decided to take a taxi out there.  Cost was 50 Euros, about $75-80 dollars for the ride out there.  We rode all the way out there to learn it was CLOSED.  For Labor Day...  Random French holiday strikes again.  Now I am all for Labor Day and having a day off.  What I am not for is cab drivers who pretend that they didn't know IKEA would be closed on Labor Day to get their fare.  And yes, we had to shell out an additional 50 Euros to get home.

After shelling out that money we were not going to pay additional money for a cab on our second attempt, so public transportation, here we come.  First we rode the Metro, to catch the commuter rail that went close to IKEA, to a bus that took us to IKEA.  Total time:  1 hour fifteen minutes, two kids in tow.  They were bored after 30 minutes. 

We did not bring the stoller for Mary Martin.  See the paragraph above about what a pain it is to have a stoller on the Metro.  Once in IKEA, we assumed, we could put Mary Martin in a basket.  WRONG.  We could have a basket on the first floor, but not the second floor because that would be just too efficient and, you know, logical for the French.  So we had to carry Mary Martin around the entire first floor until we finally collapsed at the cafeteria.  Lunch was great - still love those meatballs from IKEA - and then more shopping.  After two and a half hours of shopping, we had a basket so full Mary Martin could no longer ride in it, and a full dolley thing with all our furniture in it.  The kids deserved ice cream?  Don't you agree?

We got a bed, two mattresses, two rugs, curtains for every room in the apartment, two shower curtains, two shower curtain rods, three lamps, outside decorative lights, outdoor furniture, and a toy train (of course).  The heavy things were delivered later in the week.  We managed to get home with the lamps, lights, curtains, rods and train... 

But HOW to get home?  There are no sanctioned taxi stands at IKEA.  So we could either schlepp home with all our purchases on the bus, train and then subway - without a stoller to push Mary Martin in.  Or we could take a "taxi" home - get one of the guys who is not in a taxi to just take us home as if it were a taxi.  See there are these guys that will give you a ride as if they had a taxi but they are not sanctioned or licensed or anything.  Don't have to pay taxi licensing fees, etc.  That sort of thing. 

The first notion that this was going to be bad was when the "driver" led us to the ground floor of the IKEA parking garage.  We stood there looking for the taxi-not-a-taxi.  Then he made a phone call.  Then he took us to the second floor.  Then we got in a van made in Saudi Arabia, I think.  Next weird thing:  when Jim tried to get in the backseat with me, the driver made him get in front.  No, no, you must ride up front because we are not a taxi.  Right.  Next was that he didn't know where to go in Paris once we gave him the address.  Had no clue.  He kept assuring us, its ok, its ok, we'll use the GPS.  Jim had to put our address in the GPS. 

I strapped James into the Saudi Arabian seat, strapped myself in, wrapped both arms around Mary Martin and said some prayers. 

After 10 minutes, Mary Martin was asleep on my chest.  10 more minutes and we lost James.  His head was bobbing up and down from his chest, he had fallen asleep so deeply.  10 more minutes and Jim finally breathed a sign of relief.  Then I did too. 

We got home, eventually.  Total trip time:  five and a half hours. 

Here is the outdoor furniture:

And I do love the curtains.  I would have probably just liked them at three hours, but after five hours I was going to love them even if they were the color of vomit.

When in Rome

We got word today that James' class will go swimming on Thursday.  Swimming will be part of his regular schedule for Pre-K in the fall.  This visit to the indoor local pool is sort of an introduction to that part of the Pre-K schedule. 

On Thursday I am to send James in his bathing suit ready to swim.  The required bathing suit?  You guessed it:  a "Speedo" type bathing suit.  No swim trunks allowed.  And as an added bonus - James also has to wear a swim cap.  Outstanding. 

I couldn't get James in an adult pool at all last summer.  Now he has to wear a funny bathing suit and a swim cap!?!?  This will be interesting...

Update on our furniture:  Our container that holds all our furniture and boxes arrived in La Havre, France on Saturday.  We are waiting for it to clear customs  But we expect our furniture to arrive this week.  Fingers crossed...

Lunch with Daddy

Today we met Daddy for lunch near his office.  I brought sandwiches and we ate on the steps of the Opera house, a truly amazing building to see here in Paris.  Jim can step out of his office and see the Opera.  We have amazing sites like this around every corner.  Here is the Opera house: 

And here we are having lunch with Daddy...  Dad was in charge of drinks and even remembered to get cookies for the kids... 

The kids' favorite part of lunch - well besides the cookies - pointing out and chasing the all the pigeons.  They love chasing the pigeons around.  And since they are EVERYWHERE they do this a lot. 

And speaking of amazing sites around every corner, here is one more photo of the Arc de Triomphe.  Last weekend when we were unsuccessfully trying to get to a big garden for the kids to play, we unexpectedly ended up here...  We were close at least but it was very fun to get off the Metro and realize oh, hello! here is the Arc de Triomphe.  Photo opp!

V E Day

Last Sunday was VE Day in France.  This celebrates Victory in Europe Day in France, the day France was liberated from German occupation in World War II.  I will tell you about what we did on VE Day in another post - a massive trip to IKEA.  But I thought I would take a minute to tell you all about my grandfather's contribution to VE Day. 

***Disclaimer:  I will get some of these details wrong.  It was written with love and not accuracy.  When I get around to writing my novel I will get it right... 

My  grandfather was known to me simply as Beer-Beer.  His first grandchild, my cousin Paul, apparently gave him that name.  When Paul was very young, perhaps 18 months, someone pointed to my grandfather and said, Paul, who is that? 

Paul replied Beer-Beer and the name stuck.

Albert Sylvan Pela, Sr. was born in Victoria, Texas.  I have heard that he and Maw-Maw played in the same sandbox as toddlers but never had this confirmed.  I do know they went on a blind date in July 1942, when Beer-Beer was a student at Texas A & M and Maw-Maw was a student at Rice.  They hit it off and by December 1942 were pretty sold on each other.  For their first Christmas, Beer-Beer gave Maw-Maw a little gold cross that she cherished for many years.  She gave the cross to Mary Martin to keep for her first birthday... 

I don't know whether Beer-Beer was drafted or signed up for WWII, again forgive my lack of details.  Beer-Beer was assigned to a B-17 bomber as part of the Mighty 8th Air Force Group.  He and my grandmother married before he shipped out to England.  Beer-Beer was the tailgunner, one of the smallest guys to be able to crawl in the tail of his plane.  If you have seen Memphis Belle, Harry Connick, Jr. was the tailgunner in that movie.

Beer-Beer's group flew 24 missions successfully, including a drop on D-Day to drop supplies to the troops on the beaches in Normandy and making their way inland.  On what would have been Beer-Beer's 25th and final mission, his crew was shot down on a mission over France.  Beer-Beer didn't realize his plane had been hit until he saw his pilot and co-pilot jumping out - he quickly decided he better jump out too.  He was so quick he forgot his shoes.  It was cramped in the tailgunner spot - he often removed his shoes to make more room. 

Beer-Beer safely landed and hid out in a barn for a few days before he was found.  The local mayor took him the Germans because he didn't know what else to do with him.  Beer-Beer officially became a POW - Prisoner of War - in late summer 1944.  That late in the war, the German prisons had gotten pretty full.  Because there was no room in the prisons, the Germans just marched Beer-Beer and his fellow prisoners around Germany and France.  The slept outside and sometimes got a potatoe or some bread to eat.  Beer-Beer was a POW for about 9 months.  He first knew he was liberated when he saw a fellow prisoner smoking a Lucky Strike he got from an American GI. 

Once liberated, Beer-Beer's diet was strictly regulated as many prisoners were near starvation.  One night, however, he and another fellow prisoner snuck into the mess and split a whole pan of blueberry cobbler.  They were both violently ill for days.  Beer-Beer never ate blueberry cobbler for the rest of his life. 

Beer-Beer returned home to Maw-Maw in Victoria and completed his studies at Texas A & M.  Their dorm was full of married GIs after the war and Maw-Maw remembered at one point being the only non-pregnant wife on their entire floor.  Eventually, Beer-Beer would raise 4 wonderful children and see all of his 9 grandchildren born.  Beer-Beer died in 1990 or 1991 or 1992? when I was in junior high. 

The red poppy is all over the WWII memorials here.  Its tradition goes back centuries and is used to honor veterans of all wars.  Here are some red poppies I caught at a garden here: 

On D-Day, Beer-Beer sent a telegram to Maw-Maw that simply said:

I am ok.  Pray for the guys on the ground.

The guys on the ground and in the air, like my grandfather, are honored on VE Day.  I salute them. 

**  Thank you for indulging me.  Next post will be about the kids I promise...

The Joker rides again

Our little Joker . . . with the help of some chocolate ice cream . . .

When James turned four in March, we were going to give James a "big boy" bike for his birthday.   Then the Paris move started looking more and more a reality so we decided against a bike for now, assuming we could get one in Paris.  Well we got the bike this past weekend and James loved it!  He picked it out himself and was very proud.

Let's get the red one, Daddy.  It's super fast!

As you can see in the video, the red bike came home.  AND . . . a scooter made it home as well. . .  For Mary Martin.  Our little girl thinks she can do anything James can do lately and gets very upset when we try and prevent her from following her big brother.  At the bike store, she wanted a bike as well and was trying to get on all of them to test them out.  I tried to divert her to no avail.  We talked her into a scooter instead.  Not that she can ride a scooter really, but she can at least try it by herself without me having to push her around on it constantly.  It is a mini-scooter with three wheels.  Not like the Razors in the States.  All of the kids have scooters here. 

Saturday afternoon we tried the bike and scooter out and then celebrated with chocolate ice cream.  Mostly Mary Martin pushed the scooter around by the handlebars without putting her feet on it at all.  At the tail end of the video you can see her in her green dress chasing after the scooter.  She had a ball...  She refused to stand still for me so I could take her picture on the scooter.  The final photo is the best I could get of her playing with her scooter.  And yes, we rode the bike and played with the scooter in the Champ du Mars, the park near our house in the shadow of the Effiel Tower. 

One final note on customer service in France.  The bike shopping trip reminded me of this...

Customer service here in France is completely different than in the States.  The French are not rude or ugly, they just aren't overly helpful or customer service driven like in the States.  It is more like a "that's not my job" attitude. 

Jim and I decided we would go shopping for a bike for James this weekend.  There are no Wal-Marts to go look at various brands of bikes.  We had to find a bike store to visit.  Jim found one via the internet and found its location.  We checked to be sure that it was open on Saturday and checked their website to be sure they had children's bikes.  Check and check. 

So Saturday morning, we loaded up and headed off to a part of town we had never visited just to go to this bike store.  After about 15 minutes on the Metro, then a 5 minute walk, we found the bike store.  And they had no children's bikes in their store.  They only sell them online.  Of course...

The owner tried to explain that she is a small store and has a limited inventory, etc. etc.  But you have children's bikes on your website, Jim explained.  Ah, yez, but not in de store, it iz too small. 

Had we been the States, the owner would have then offered to look at her online inventory with Jim and help him pick out the bike he wanted, have it shipped to the store, and call Jim when it arrived.  Maybe even have it shipped straight to our apartment.  We got none of that.  Nothing.  She couldn't even tell us the name of another store in Paris that might have children's bikes in stock.  

Again, she wasn't rude or ugly.  She was just very matter of fact.  Another experience illustrated this customer service attiude even more clearly to me than the bike shop experience. 

Darty is the name of a chain of electronics stores in France.  Think Best Buy but smaller.  Jim was able to get all of our appliances there:  fridge, oven, microwave, washer and dryer, dishwasher.  When Gail (Gee) was here, we visited Darty to return some parts to the washing machine we didn't need.  We also were looking for a hairdryer, a crockpot, and a cable we needed for the TV.  We did find a crockpot that wasn't too expensive.  We had to ask a sales person to get us the crockpot from the back; they only had display models out.  Nothing in boxes. 

However, when Gail asked the saleslady to get us one from the back, she looked in her computer and told Gail they did not have any in stock. 

Gail:  Do you know when you will get some more in stock?

Saleslady:  Non.

That was the end of the conversation. 

If it had been Best Buy or Wal-Mart or Circuit City, the saleslady might have said No, I don't know when I will get more in but let me check another store to see if they have it and that store can hold it for you.  Or she might have offered to order it and call us when it arrived in her store.  Or she might have offered to order us one online and have it shipped free of charge to our apartment.  Any number of options in the States . . .  But not in France.

So we went home with the hairdryer and TV cable.  Still looking for that crockpot . . .

Out of my league

Today I had coffee with some other moms.  It was three moms:  two stay at home and one works.  All three moms have children in James' current class at the Lennen School.  We went to Starbucks a few blocks from James' school.  Mary Martin was with me but another mom has a little girl as well - little Stella. 

I enjoyed hearing about their experiences in Paris and recommendations for pediatricians, etc.  One mom recently lost her son Griffin around the Effiel Tower for almost an hour.  She found him at the police station and we all shared in her horror. 

We talked about parks to visit with the kids and what snacks are appropriate at school.  We are responsible for snacks in James' class every two weeks or so.  Healthy snacks are "encouraged" so I am told - and clearly there was a debate about this in James class this year, so say these moms.

After coffee I went to another park with Stellas mom so the girls could play.  We got to visit for a long time and she was able to tell me about one of the other moms that came to Starbucks with us, especially the working mom.  Apparently, the working mom works for Marc Jacobs - who is a totally famous designer, to quote the movie Clueless (that was for you Amy B.). 

Yes, she is one of the head designers for Marc Jacobs.

Forget trying to look cute enough to blend in with the other Paris moms.  I am completely out of my league here.

Getting settled

Bonjour mon amis!  I am happy to report that we are getting settled here in Paris.  After a rough couple of nights, the kids are now sleeping better.  First the kids had to recover from their jetlag.  The first night, James woke up three times and the final time was at 12:30 am here.  He truly was wide awake as it was only 7:30 pm Atlanta time.  He kept saying he wasn't tired and didn't need to go to sleep.  I think we have cured that jet lag problem.  However, we are all adjusting to apartment living and neighbors.  No one is really loud, but there is noise that we have to adjust to.  Our building is probably over 100 years old and the wooden floors creak everywhere.  Additionally our neighbor upstairs plays a variety of wind instruments - I think I have heard four different ones so far:  flute, sax, trumpet and clarinet.  So far he (or she?) only plays in the afternoon and evening - nothing at night.  Sometimes we get music while we have dinner which is actually nice... 

James went to preschool this week.  For the months of May and June he will go to preschool from 9 to 12.  The preschool is associated with the Lennen Bilingual School he will attend in the fall.  This way James will meet some of the kids he will go to Pre-K with in the fall.  We also thought it would be a good way to get him exposed to some French this way.  So far he is having fun and enjoying his new friends.  They have a ton of trains in his class and that keeps him very happy.  They are studying caterpillars and butterflies this week and will have real live caterpillars in their class as pets by weeks end.  He has two teachers - Sophie who is British and speaks English and Stephanie who is French and speaks French.  There are 14 children total in his class.  The playground they visit every day is right on the banks of the Siene.  So every day James can watch the boats go by on the Siene.

After school, we have lunch and then Mary Martin has a nap.  It appears that our routine every day will include a trip to the park after MM's nap.  I am waiting for her to wake up now so we can head to the park.  We have found a better park then the first one we visited.  This park is in the Champ du Mars  - which is the long park that runs down from the Effiel Tower.  So the kids literally play in the shadow of the Effiel Tower every day.  We are a five minute walk from this park.  You can see in the picture.  Mary Martin is on the bouncy horse in the foreground.  The horse is dark blue/black and Mary Martin has on pink leggings. 

What else have we been doing?  Exploring French fashion... 

And, today, while James was at school, Mary Martin and I took Gee to see Notre Dame.  We didn't stay long but did get to show Gee its grandeur and size.  Mary Martin just rode along taking it all in. 

And, no, there are not palm trees in front of Notre Dame.  There was some sort of tribute to saints all over the world today in the plaza outside Notre Dame, with a tree for every saint, I think!?!?  Another French oddity - to ruin their sacred buildings and sites with modern exhibits like this. 

Bon voyage and merci beaucoup to Gee (Gail) who has made our first week so much easier.  She has been a great giver of baths, did not complain about my coffee, and was instrumental at the grocery store - is this flour? It looks like flour.  Is this garlic?  Smells like garlic...  She was right on both.

Come visit again soon.  You already know about the odd bathroom and our sax-playing neighbor upstairs.  I promise next time we will show you more than the Effiel Tower and Notre Dame.  And, maybe, just maybe, we will have seats for our terrace to sit on! 

Why would anything work the first time in France?

Nothing, nothing works the first time in France. Even my blog from our computer here... So this is a test post...