So this morning it was me that was dead to the world. I actually slept through the trash pickup, which is fairly epic. In Paris they pick up trash every day, usually before 9 a.m. The French are pretty good recyclers and (of course) drink lots of wine, so imagine the trash/recycling truck coming by at 7:30 a.m. throwing an entire neighborhood’s used wine bottles into the truck… one building at a time. It is LOUD. Louder than loud. And today I actually slept through it, and woke up around ten. I think I am done with the jetlag though.

So, my goal for today was to attempt the metro. I LOVED the metro and completely depended on it when I lived here, so I had bought passes a while ago so we could use it, thinking mom would be up and walking, not still in a chair most of the time. I will say this: if you are going to have your hip replaced, don’t do it in Paris. Seriously, for a major city, it is very rare to see anyone disabled, and I strongly suspect because unless you have somebody like me who is willing to push you around, the city is not very accessible. In weird ways.

Let me explain. In some ways, the city has completely shocked and awed me. Things you never think about until you need them have suddenly become obvious. Pushing Mom around the sidewalks, I have been shocked by the fact that EVERY sidewalk has a “curb cut” at the crosswalk (the sidewalk makes a sort of ramp so you don’t have to jump the curb.) This has been a total lifesaver. Most of the time it has been easy rolling, but every once in a while the lip is just a little too high and I have to turn the chair around and pull her up backwards. All in all, if you have an electric chair or a willing pusher, the city is very doable via sidewalks.

But… the metro…NOT SO MUCH.

I put it off for so long because, though I never had to worry about accessibility when I lived here, I was pretty sure I had never seen any elevators or things like that.

I was right.

There are, for the most part, not a whole lot of accessible metro stations. What does that mean, you ask…

Well, let me tell you. It means that Michelle got to carry the 35 lb. wheelchair for much of the day today while gimpy momma made her way down stairs with the cane and railing. She also had to walk in and out of the trains as there is about a 10 inch gap between the platform and train that a wheelchair could never cross. It was not very fun. It became even less fun when I realized that the train I wanted to get on (to the Eiffel Tower, which is the only “major” tourist attraction Mom hadn’t seen yet) was out of service. This necessitated a major change of plans and two more train connections, me hauling the chair over my shoulder the whole way. To make things even more fun, my metro pass seemed to be defective and didn’t want to let me into the station at several points. I had to have several conversations with metro workers about my defective pass.

But, we made it, eventually emerging from the depths of Paris at Charles de Gaulle/Etoile station with the help of a very nice young Frenchman who looked after Mom while I hauled the chair. This station brings you out to the Arc de Triomphe, so while yours truly regained her breath and ability to move her right arm, mom chilled out and checked out the monument.

After I recovered, we began our long trek down the Champs-Elysees. Halfway down we had to (of course) stop at a café for lunch and wine. Our waiter here was hilarious (as most are, in the touristy areas… they save the snooty ones for the outskirts) and we had a delicious lunch watching the world go by. This was the first day that I have seen more than one disabled person. We saw about three other wheelchairs today. This amazes me; it seems at home that wheelchair bound/deaf/blind/mentally disabled people are far more prevalent among the rest of us.

Anyway, we walked all the way down to the other end of the Champs-Elysees, Place de la Concorde, home of the giant Egyptian obelisk, and headed on into the Jardins des Tuileries, the far end of which had been our turning point yesterday. We had seen a giant ferris wheel yesterday, and I decided that was our goal. So we pressed on, eventually finding it at the far end of the garden from where we had started.

There was no question once we saw it; this was going to happen.

So we ditched the chair, paid our Euros and stood in line. Check it out here:

http://blog.photos-libres.fr/wp-content/uploads/photos/LagranderouedeParis_FC3B/LagranderouedeParis3001.jpg

keep in mind, the building behind it is about 6 stories high.

I have to admit, as we started to ascend, I had a brief moment of panic in which I was wondering if I might possibly have a panic attack and scream and cry and beg the attendant to stop and let me off; as it turns out, I was fine. In fact, I kinda want to go again to get better pictures. It was an amazing view of the city.

The Tuileries are nice, but both Mom and I agreed that we like the Jardin de Luxembourg better. There’s just something about it… chess tables, tennis courts, it somehow manages to be beautiful and elegant yet laid-back at the same time.

After that, the afternoon heat was setting in, so I made (again) the executive decision to head back to the apartment. It has been so great to have our own space instead of a hotel. We can leave a mess and not have to worry about it- there’s no housekeeping service to wake us up… It was definitely the right choice to rent the apartment.


We took the metro back and it went quite well. I think I have the wheelchair-hauling down to an art now and after two weeks of it, I will probably look like Schwarzenegger. My arms anyway. ☺ The only problem was my poor sense of direction in momentarily wheeling us in the wrong direction after we got off the train. I have a great sense of direction when walking or driving in the US… put me on a plane and dump me somewhere and I have no idea which way is up.

So we made it back in time for some R & R before dinner. We showered, checked email, napped. I decided on a cute place just down the street for dinner and it turned out to be the penultimate French café/restaurant. Mom had salmon and I had tuna and guess what we had to drink?

Apple juice!

Um, no. Wine. Delicious French wine.

During dinner a man walked down the street outside our window leading a pack of 9 horses. We assumed they were the horses you can ride in the Jardin de Luxembourg, going home. It was a very “only in Paris” kind of moment.

So now I am here blogging, watching “The Bachelor” in French and hoping to sleep soon. My cousin Hillary comes tomorrow for some much-anticipated wheelchair pushing relief. And we’re gonna do fun stuff! Called my sis and Dad tonight – all is well with my pets and my mom’s.

On that note, I am going to go back and try to add some photos to this blog.

MLW

P.S. I forgot to mention – Mom has smashed two more wine glasses in the apartment. Susan in paris smashed glass total is up to 3. The security deposit was $450 so I guess she has clearance to bust a few more.


P.P.S. Sorry that the options and stuff for this blog are in French... there is a way to change languages, somewhere! But if you click on what is under this post, something like "enregistrer un commentaire" that is to leave a comment. Please feel free to comment.