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.