Jet Lag
Today is all about jet lag, so I believe we will be doing nothing exciting on this Monday.
France is about six hours ahead of EST. It gets confusing when you fly over here because you start out with the airlines treating you like it's American time, and then by the time you arrive it's treated as French time. For us, we flew an hour to the Memphis airport, then almost immediately went on to the flight to Amsterdam. The flight to Amsterdam is a little under 9 hours. The plane left at 720p, and hence it arrived at around 4a our time. We were fed dinner around 9p (which was 10p my home time since Memphis is an hour earlier than SC), and then I convinced an exhausted Jared to pass out. I guess he finally did by 10p Memphis time, and then he woke up at like 230a. The airlines served us breakfast at that point because (here's where it gets confusing), we were now in Europe time so it really was like 830a. My stomach pled for mercy. "What are you doing??? You are supposed to be asleep! Why are you feeding me?"
To add to the general fun, my son decided to pee all over himself while he was sleeping. My son was potty trained about two years ago, but until about four months ago he occasionally couldn't stay dry for the night. For those of you out there who are not parents, it's normal for a four year old boy to still have episodes at night wherein he can't hold it. Boys are later with the "dry at night" thing. About four months ago was when he turned four, and hence I was thrilled that he seemed to have it under control a little earlier than I thought he would (in contrast, Ari was dry at night at two years, nine months). However, in a desperate desire to not have to change wet sheets, I've been slapping a diaper on him every night for the last four months...and every time he's dry. I kept thinking, this last bag of diapers should be the last one. He won't wet himself anymore.
Apparently he won't at HOME at least. Sigh. So here's the other issue: I had a spare pair of underwear and a spare tshirt and a jacket for Jared in the carryon bag, but no pants. I THOUGHT I had stuck in some pants, but unfortunately I was WRONG! WAAAHHHH. I get to pull off my son's clothes, put him in a tshirt and underwear, tie the jacket around his waist, and sigh...nothing to be done until we get the bags. Meanwhile, I had several people in several different languages apparently display horror at the poor American child who had an idiot parent who dressed him in underwear and a tshirt to fly.
Hey, folks, I just wanted to introduce Southern American Culture to ya! Little kids Jared's age run around in their underwear without a tshirt, so the tshirt was high class! younger kids are grubby in their diapers, happy, running around giggling all the time. Just consider it a cultural exchange! Next time, I'll try with "What We Mean When We Say Tea." haha!
The wait in the Amsterdam airport was too long. Jared and I both almost lost it...tired, cranky, nothing to do, etc. I converted some dollars over into Euros but not too many (I'm better off going to a bank here for the best exchange rates and lower conversion fees). I wanted to get a few Euros in my pocket, however, because I felt insecure about not having cash on me in foreign places "just in case." Not that Alex will let me pay for anything now that I'm here! haha!
I stared at a few gift shops in the airport. I saw dozens of carved wooden shoes that they sell as tourist items, as well as very pretty carved wooden tulips which are then painted. Ok, I can get the carved tulips. I know WHERE the wooden shoes come from--traditional style of dutch dress that is never done any more--but I imagine them being one of the most useless tourist items a person could buy. "Oh, daaaahling, I decided to decorate my entire house in Wooden Shoe circa 19th c.!" Nope, can't see it. It's one of those items you bring back for a friend and the friend says, wow, thanks for thinking of me! Then the wooden shoes sit on a shelf for years and years until the friend's grandchildren find them, giggle over them, and try to wear them.
What I hated about their airport: not child friendly. By that I mean: all the toilets were down a set of stairs!!!! What the hell do the handicap folks do? I saw a "lift" (IE, elevator) that was labled handicap only that would carry the passengers to the toilet. It specifically stated through signs that there should be NOTHING on that lift but a wheelchair. No baggage carts, etc. I guess that means if you don't want your bags stolen or taken, you have to cart them down with you to the bathroom. Down the stairs. Along with your stroller. And your child.
Fook that shite. We took the elevator, with me glaring at folks periodically as if to say, "Just TRY and tell me and my pant-less son that we can't cart our stroller down this lift! Go ahead! Make my day!"
When we readied up to go on the last leg of the journey--the plane to Paris--we were exhausted. ALL the staff had loaded up on the plane and it was apparent that they were ready to take on passengers. However, the staff preferred to talk and chat amongst themselves and pretend that the ever growing line didn't exist. They took their time and ignored impatient passengers who were asking why the hell we weren't getting on yet. In fact, it made us a little late before we were able to take off. For the record, this incident is what is known in France as "good customer service," so I'm not suprised it was Air France that we were using at that point. The second we got on the plane we both passed out cold. We missed drinks and snacks, but heck, my body had no clue what timezone we were in, what meal we should be eating, nor what we should be doing. Hence, it was ok to miss the food!
I was SO relieved to see Alex when we arrived. I don't think I mentioned this part: Alex and I had to travel separately. SUCKED. He had gotten his ticket last December, and he could change the return date but NOT the routing. So he had to fly through Detriot and then Detroit to Paris no matter what day he picked. I, on the other hand, was relying on some cheap certificates which limited what days and times I could take. If I didn't use them, I couldn't afford our plane tickets. It added on $450 to match Alex's plane flight. No thanks. He got to the airport earlier for us, went to visit a friend who then drove out to the airport so she could take us and our luggage to the train station, and then we were off.
Let me tell you about customs. Customs were in Amsterdam. They consisted of, lemme see your passport. Oh look, you and your son have them. Have a great day. There were no customs in Paris because we were coming from another EU country. WOW. I can look forward to about an hour to an hour and a half of hell upon our return journey to America.
Jared LOVED the train! He was so excited that he was about to burst. The little guy was functioning on soooo little sleep. He had been yanked on three planes, a car ride through Paris, and then placed on a three and a half hour train ride, and boy did he take like a trooper (PS--we put pants on him when we got the bags in Paris...haha!). He collapsed about 45 min outside of Clermont-Ferrand, had a crying and wailing fit that lasted five min, then passed out cold on my lap for the remainder of the journey. I was so proud of my baby boy...he really handled it all so well for a four year old! Oh, I should add that Alex stopped in a pastissere and picked us up "snacks" for the train, so that helped too. Please excuse my lack of ability to spell out French here. I'm pleased enough if I can pronounce it! He bought for us two chocolate tarts....oh god yes....and some shoo-crets. That's the pronunciation guide because I have no idea how to spell it. They are smallish sweet sugary bread things, not like doughnuts because they are light and airy, but they are very tasty! Oh, and upon arrival at his house, we had canard pate! Yum, yum. I try not to think about the ducks because damn, that stuff is GOOD. I love duck, and it's hard to get duck to cook with in SC. If I lived with my sister in Ft Worth, TX, I could go to her central market store and purchase duck whenever I wanted...but not here. I can, at best, get a pre frozen duck piece in the frozen food section of some groceries here.
The weather is gorgeous! Warm, nice breeze, not too hot....lovely! Perfect, really, since most homes and apartments here still don't have air conditioning and this region can get as hot as the South in the dead of summer. Remind me not to come here in July...haha!
Today is all about adjusting to jet lag. Jared didn't wake up until 1230p, which makes sense to me because at home he always wakes up around 630a. That's six hours on the money. He has a very reliable biological clock. We'll probably go out and go to a grocery store later on to get food for the house/Jared, but that's about it. We're tired, jet lagged, and need a day of rest. I can't wait to see more of the beautiful country! Ang, next time you come here, we need to take you all over France and the gorgeous countryside. Paris is terrific and there's a TON of things to do there, but there's just so much beauty all over the country that you NEED to see it! Hear me? NEED. LOL!
Ok, back to the family now....hmmm I wonder if there is any more baguette and pate left from last night....mmmm :D
France is about six hours ahead of EST. It gets confusing when you fly over here because you start out with the airlines treating you like it's American time, and then by the time you arrive it's treated as French time. For us, we flew an hour to the Memphis airport, then almost immediately went on to the flight to Amsterdam. The flight to Amsterdam is a little under 9 hours. The plane left at 720p, and hence it arrived at around 4a our time. We were fed dinner around 9p (which was 10p my home time since Memphis is an hour earlier than SC), and then I convinced an exhausted Jared to pass out. I guess he finally did by 10p Memphis time, and then he woke up at like 230a. The airlines served us breakfast at that point because (here's where it gets confusing), we were now in Europe time so it really was like 830a. My stomach pled for mercy. "What are you doing??? You are supposed to be asleep! Why are you feeding me?"
To add to the general fun, my son decided to pee all over himself while he was sleeping. My son was potty trained about two years ago, but until about four months ago he occasionally couldn't stay dry for the night. For those of you out there who are not parents, it's normal for a four year old boy to still have episodes at night wherein he can't hold it. Boys are later with the "dry at night" thing. About four months ago was when he turned four, and hence I was thrilled that he seemed to have it under control a little earlier than I thought he would (in contrast, Ari was dry at night at two years, nine months). However, in a desperate desire to not have to change wet sheets, I've been slapping a diaper on him every night for the last four months...and every time he's dry. I kept thinking, this last bag of diapers should be the last one. He won't wet himself anymore.
Apparently he won't at HOME at least. Sigh. So here's the other issue: I had a spare pair of underwear and a spare tshirt and a jacket for Jared in the carryon bag, but no pants. I THOUGHT I had stuck in some pants, but unfortunately I was WRONG! WAAAHHHH. I get to pull off my son's clothes, put him in a tshirt and underwear, tie the jacket around his waist, and sigh...nothing to be done until we get the bags. Meanwhile, I had several people in several different languages apparently display horror at the poor American child who had an idiot parent who dressed him in underwear and a tshirt to fly.
Hey, folks, I just wanted to introduce Southern American Culture to ya! Little kids Jared's age run around in their underwear without a tshirt, so the tshirt was high class! younger kids are grubby in their diapers, happy, running around giggling all the time. Just consider it a cultural exchange! Next time, I'll try with "What We Mean When We Say Tea." haha!
The wait in the Amsterdam airport was too long. Jared and I both almost lost it...tired, cranky, nothing to do, etc. I converted some dollars over into Euros but not too many (I'm better off going to a bank here for the best exchange rates and lower conversion fees). I wanted to get a few Euros in my pocket, however, because I felt insecure about not having cash on me in foreign places "just in case." Not that Alex will let me pay for anything now that I'm here! haha!
I stared at a few gift shops in the airport. I saw dozens of carved wooden shoes that they sell as tourist items, as well as very pretty carved wooden tulips which are then painted. Ok, I can get the carved tulips. I know WHERE the wooden shoes come from--traditional style of dutch dress that is never done any more--but I imagine them being one of the most useless tourist items a person could buy. "Oh, daaaahling, I decided to decorate my entire house in Wooden Shoe circa 19th c.!" Nope, can't see it. It's one of those items you bring back for a friend and the friend says, wow, thanks for thinking of me! Then the wooden shoes sit on a shelf for years and years until the friend's grandchildren find them, giggle over them, and try to wear them.
What I hated about their airport: not child friendly. By that I mean: all the toilets were down a set of stairs!!!! What the hell do the handicap folks do? I saw a "lift" (IE, elevator) that was labled handicap only that would carry the passengers to the toilet. It specifically stated through signs that there should be NOTHING on that lift but a wheelchair. No baggage carts, etc. I guess that means if you don't want your bags stolen or taken, you have to cart them down with you to the bathroom. Down the stairs. Along with your stroller. And your child.
Fook that shite. We took the elevator, with me glaring at folks periodically as if to say, "Just TRY and tell me and my pant-less son that we can't cart our stroller down this lift! Go ahead! Make my day!"
When we readied up to go on the last leg of the journey--the plane to Paris--we were exhausted. ALL the staff had loaded up on the plane and it was apparent that they were ready to take on passengers. However, the staff preferred to talk and chat amongst themselves and pretend that the ever growing line didn't exist. They took their time and ignored impatient passengers who were asking why the hell we weren't getting on yet. In fact, it made us a little late before we were able to take off. For the record, this incident is what is known in France as "good customer service," so I'm not suprised it was Air France that we were using at that point. The second we got on the plane we both passed out cold. We missed drinks and snacks, but heck, my body had no clue what timezone we were in, what meal we should be eating, nor what we should be doing. Hence, it was ok to miss the food!
I was SO relieved to see Alex when we arrived. I don't think I mentioned this part: Alex and I had to travel separately. SUCKED. He had gotten his ticket last December, and he could change the return date but NOT the routing. So he had to fly through Detriot and then Detroit to Paris no matter what day he picked. I, on the other hand, was relying on some cheap certificates which limited what days and times I could take. If I didn't use them, I couldn't afford our plane tickets. It added on $450 to match Alex's plane flight. No thanks. He got to the airport earlier for us, went to visit a friend who then drove out to the airport so she could take us and our luggage to the train station, and then we were off.
Let me tell you about customs. Customs were in Amsterdam. They consisted of, lemme see your passport. Oh look, you and your son have them. Have a great day. There were no customs in Paris because we were coming from another EU country. WOW. I can look forward to about an hour to an hour and a half of hell upon our return journey to America.
Jared LOVED the train! He was so excited that he was about to burst. The little guy was functioning on soooo little sleep. He had been yanked on three planes, a car ride through Paris, and then placed on a three and a half hour train ride, and boy did he take like a trooper (PS--we put pants on him when we got the bags in Paris...haha!). He collapsed about 45 min outside of Clermont-Ferrand, had a crying and wailing fit that lasted five min, then passed out cold on my lap for the remainder of the journey. I was so proud of my baby boy...he really handled it all so well for a four year old! Oh, I should add that Alex stopped in a pastissere and picked us up "snacks" for the train, so that helped too. Please excuse my lack of ability to spell out French here. I'm pleased enough if I can pronounce it! He bought for us two chocolate tarts....oh god yes....and some shoo-crets. That's the pronunciation guide because I have no idea how to spell it. They are smallish sweet sugary bread things, not like doughnuts because they are light and airy, but they are very tasty! Oh, and upon arrival at his house, we had canard pate! Yum, yum. I try not to think about the ducks because damn, that stuff is GOOD. I love duck, and it's hard to get duck to cook with in SC. If I lived with my sister in Ft Worth, TX, I could go to her central market store and purchase duck whenever I wanted...but not here. I can, at best, get a pre frozen duck piece in the frozen food section of some groceries here.
The weather is gorgeous! Warm, nice breeze, not too hot....lovely! Perfect, really, since most homes and apartments here still don't have air conditioning and this region can get as hot as the South in the dead of summer. Remind me not to come here in July...haha!
Today is all about adjusting to jet lag. Jared didn't wake up until 1230p, which makes sense to me because at home he always wakes up around 630a. That's six hours on the money. He has a very reliable biological clock. We'll probably go out and go to a grocery store later on to get food for the house/Jared, but that's about it. We're tired, jet lagged, and need a day of rest. I can't wait to see more of the beautiful country! Ang, next time you come here, we need to take you all over France and the gorgeous countryside. Paris is terrific and there's a TON of things to do there, but there's just so much beauty all over the country that you NEED to see it! Hear me? NEED. LOL!
Ok, back to the family now....hmmm I wonder if there is any more baguette and pate left from last night....mmmm :D
posted by Kira | 4:26 AM
5 Comments:
Jared's experience sounds like one of those nightmares where you look down and suddenly realize you forgot to put on pants. Poor little guy - but it sounds like you both handled it like pros. Just tell me when you want to take me all over France - I'm ready to go now! =o) I've done Paris, the Loire Valley, Biarritz, and Nice. I think that leave a whole bunch of France for me to explore... And I can't wait!
Amanda, if I could bring you back a choccy tart, I would...but they just don't keep (in my company) I mean on the plane ;) I can do regular choccies though!
Angie, how about Britany then? Alex keeps telling me it'd be a great place to go and that there are lots of cool things to see there! Plus we can drag ya through Clermont-Ferrand...it's a nice town with a few cool places to go to and TONS of great food! I just love seeing the gorgeous countryside and small French farms all over the place here :D *I* need to go to Biarritz and Nice, though. One of Alex's friends (who is now a friend of mine) named Severine lives there, and she offered housing if we wanted to go sometime. Woohoo!
We have the world’s worst customer service: it comes from the knowledge that you can’t get fired easily :P People just go on strike all the time whenever the boss or gov. tries to change anything too lol.
As for the little patisseries, they are called: chouquettes.
Here is a little picture just to make your mouth water, hehehe
http://chocolateandzucchini.com/archives/images/bread/chouquettes.jpg
I plan to feed Kira into heaven while we are here: More chocolate tarts, mousse au chocolat, etc.
Sounds like a plan! I am totally living vicariously through you right now, so please keep sharing the details. I think a visit to another patissérie is in order. Eat something especially decadent in my honor. Thanks for the photo, Alex... It certainly helps with the vicarious living. =o)
Jet lag? What a silly idea. Really, though, it's odd... I flew to Ukraine a few years back, and besides the normal tiredness of not having slept nearly enough (got up at 3 for what was, iirc, a 14-hour flight, plus hours of waiting in line at the crowded airport), I can't remember having any trouble, no jet lag or anything. Maybe my memory's just bad, I suppose... Still, I attribute it to my weaseliciousness. :P Glad to hear that you made it to France ok, though, make sure to try all the sweet items around. :P
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