So there are things that I'm afraid of and none of them have anything to do with the Unit 4 kindergarten lottery. These are real things. Things that require trips to doctors. Things that cost a lot of money. Things that make my son look at me and see that I am, indeed, not the great pillar of strength that he needs me to be. Oh, the worry that can transcend in those little, blue eyes. He knows something's wrong. He's not stupid. He sees when Mommy doesn't have the energy to move onto the floor and play with him. He sees when Mommy decides to take him out to dinner rather than cook. He's watched my energy levels come and go like the freaking tide. He knows what's normal and what's not.
Today, I went to gynecology to talk to them about my fibroid. It turns out there is only one. It is small. It is benign, and if you're going to have a fibroid, you want it where mine is, completely out of the way, slow growing, nothing big. It's all good news.
The weird news is that she's not sure why my periods are now lasting 6-8 days. The placement of the fibroid makes it the least likely candidate to affect blood loss levels. But the attack plan stays the same, by either slowing my periods or stopping them altogether, it should help my issue with low ferritin, which should help the low protein and platelet count. It's been 5 months since I was diagnosed. We started with the conservative treatment of taking iron supplements for three months. When that didn't work, we ordered an ultrasound to look for fibroids and did a blood test for celiac disease. (And yes, I still take the iron pills.) The Celiac test was negative, but up popped the small fibroid. Then it took me, no lie, 6 weeks to get into ob/gyn. The doctor who came in to triage kept repeating, "You've been feeling like this for five months?" to me. Seriously? Get on the stick. To be fair, she was a resident. But she clearly didn't do her homework. So when the ob came in and the resident started talking to me about my thyroid. I tried not to roll my eyes. "Already been there, look harder at the blood work from September. It's fine."
"Oh."
So my choices were birth control pills, which I have a history of not doing well on, an IUD (Mirena), which appears to be my generation's birth control of choice, and endometrial ablation. I'm all about the conservative approach and don't want to take a pill every day, so we're going to go with the IUD for now, but it'll take another few weeks before I can get in for that appointment. Then, I have to wait another few months to see how it affects me. Some women spot the first few months, some have a shorter, lighter period. Some don't have one at all.
If this fails, it comes out, and we do the ablation. Since I don't plan on ever having children again, I can do this option, which, let's face it -- sounds a hell of a lot better to a 35 year old than a hysterectomy, which is -- surgery. And I'm not eager to be knocked out on any surgical table any time ever again.
But yeah, I'm scared about the fact that they don't know why I'm bleeding longer and heavier. I just am. I don't like the fact that the whole process will basically have taken over a year to go through the "safer" options. I also don't like the side effects of being borderline anemic. I am tired a lot, so my brain tells me to eat, even though I don't need food -- I need iron.
But it is what it is. I'm making the best of it. I have a life to live here...
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
This is our friend Jef.
Although you might know Jef through his comic, Frazz.
Jef is a cartoonist and a triathlete, who is about to rappel down the side of a building in Michigan for a good cause with is wonderful wife, Patty.
Anyhoo, we made a donation to Jef and Patty's "Dope-on-a-Rope" cause, and he got in touch with us. Jef and MacTroll used to work at the same newspaper chain in Michigan. MacTroll digs Jef. Jef digs MacTroll. How do I know? In the land of Frazz, there's a Rennich Middle School. :-) In addition to working together, Jef and Patty and MacTroll and I are fans of all things furry. The day the number of cats and dogs in our house outnumbered theirs in our holiday card greetings, Jef had to send a message to congratulate us on being more crazy than they were. In addition, it's always strange to wake up to your friend's voice on the Bob and Tom show when the alarm goes off.
Unfortunately for MacTroll, Jef called the home phone first and got me, where I outed MacTroll as being registered for the "My First Triathlon" and me registering for "My Next Triathlon" in Lake Lanier, Ga., in June to Jef. Jef isn't a willy nilly athlete. He has freaking coaches for each of the three tri sports. And, he wrote a book on the subject.
A few days later, a package arrived with a copy of the book... and a bunch of swim caps with Frazz drawings on them that are given to participants in Jef's triathlon (The Hawk Island Tri) in Michigan. On one of the caps is one of my favorite Frazz cartoons, where Caufield, the extra uber smart little kid in the elementary school, is running next to Frazz (the song writing, triathlon participating janitor of the school) and asks, "What do they call the dude who finishes last?" And Frazz answers, "A Triathlete."
The caps are very brightly colored, which attracted X-man like a moth to a flame. He had to take one into the bath, and, of course, when MacTroll went in to take his picture he a) refused to turn so the comic showed forward, b) still had popsicle all over his mouth so he looked like a vampire and c) didn't want any help getting it on or off, so it took him a while to figure it out.
But it's always ever so nice to get the support, as a fitness or recreational athlete from those who compete like crazy but never lose sight of their enjoyment of the sport. So, a big thanks to Jef, for all of his support and for just generally being a nice guy.
Although you might know Jef through his comic, Frazz.
Jef is a cartoonist and a triathlete, who is about to rappel down the side of a building in Michigan for a good cause with is wonderful wife, Patty.
Anyhoo, we made a donation to Jef and Patty's "Dope-on-a-Rope" cause, and he got in touch with us. Jef and MacTroll used to work at the same newspaper chain in Michigan. MacTroll digs Jef. Jef digs MacTroll. How do I know? In the land of Frazz, there's a Rennich Middle School. :-) In addition to working together, Jef and Patty and MacTroll and I are fans of all things furry. The day the number of cats and dogs in our house outnumbered theirs in our holiday card greetings, Jef had to send a message to congratulate us on being more crazy than they were. In addition, it's always strange to wake up to your friend's voice on the Bob and Tom show when the alarm goes off.
Unfortunately for MacTroll, Jef called the home phone first and got me, where I outed MacTroll as being registered for the "My First Triathlon" and me registering for "My Next Triathlon" in Lake Lanier, Ga., in June to Jef. Jef isn't a willy nilly athlete. He has freaking coaches for each of the three tri sports. And, he wrote a book on the subject.
A few days later, a package arrived with a copy of the book... and a bunch of swim caps with Frazz drawings on them that are given to participants in Jef's triathlon (The Hawk Island Tri) in Michigan. On one of the caps is one of my favorite Frazz cartoons, where Caufield, the extra uber smart little kid in the elementary school, is running next to Frazz (the song writing, triathlon participating janitor of the school) and asks, "What do they call the dude who finishes last?" And Frazz answers, "A Triathlete."
The caps are very brightly colored, which attracted X-man like a moth to a flame. He had to take one into the bath, and, of course, when MacTroll went in to take his picture he a) refused to turn so the comic showed forward, b) still had popsicle all over his mouth so he looked like a vampire and c) didn't want any help getting it on or off, so it took him a while to figure it out.
But it's always ever so nice to get the support, as a fitness or recreational athlete from those who compete like crazy but never lose sight of their enjoyment of the sport. So, a big thanks to Jef, for all of his support and for just generally being a nice guy.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
On my own turf
We're in our car hurling down I-90 at 65 mph to Rockford, keeping our eye on the cloud of pink ice moving toward us according to the iPhone. Tonight we sleep at my Dad's. Tomorrow we'll be in our own beds. :-)
Saturday, February 26, 2011
It's a Small World
MacTroll was reading a tourist guidebook last night in bed. It said that 52 percent of dwelling occupants in Paris are single people living alone. Mmm, I thought. Maybe that's why they're so grumpy, they're lonely. I decided that since all the wine, pastry and chocolate wasn't enough to get France in a good mood, I'd try something different. We'd go somewhere where people were paid to be the happiest people on Earth. That's right. Disneyland Paris. And you want to know something? It was the best idea I've ever had.
MacTroll looked into the tours offered through the hotel desk, and they were kind of expensive 98 Euros each to just go to one of the two Disney parks with a bus that would pick us up and drop us off at the hotel. But we'd have to be on the bus at 7 a.m. Mmmm, the park doesn't open until 10 a.m., so that was lame. Plus, it was expensive. But we were going to Disney so we knew we were in for using up some cash. Instead, we walked a half mile and picked up the train for under 7 Euros each. The Disney stop is the last stop on the train. You literally tumble out halfway between Disney Village (their Downtown Disney) and the two parks (Disneyland and Disney Studios). Of course, it was raining when we got there, and I was feeling cold, so we picked me up an extra sweatshirt (40 Euros) to wear under my rain coat and then we went off and stood in line for tickets.
A one-day park hopper was 68 Euros each. One park ticket was 52 Euros each. So we decided to bite the bullet and go for the hopper. I was already feeling happy about the decision when our train was full of kids with excitable giggles and parents laughing. It made me miss my kid, but I was so happy to be around other people with children. Finally, lightheartedness and humor.
Suddenly, in the ticket purchase line, this woman with two friends and their six kids, turns around and asks me if I speak French. I answer, "Non" honestly. I know enough not to starve. Turns out she knew as much English as I knew French. So we made a go of a discussion. She was a Disney pass holder and had a coupon that she was using for her two friends, but was good for up to four adults. Two one-day park hopper tickets for 15 Euros each and would we like to buy our tickets with them to use the coupon?
Hell, yes!
We were very grateful, and as far as Parisians go, she just totally proved that our experience in the city is probably entirely a city thing. My friend Robin loves everywhere else in France outside of Paris. She also likes to refer to Paris as "NYC with a baguette up it's butt." It's a fair assessment from our experience. But when you get into the land of the minivans (suburbs) something happened. People got more relaxed. They were enjoying their kids. And MacTroll's look of "I can't effing believe my wife brought me to Disney when we're in Paris" went away, and he became much more amiable and open to the idea.
MacTroll before the nice lady gave us 106 Euros back in our pocket... (This is his, "I can't believe I'm here" face.)
After the most awesome French woman in history gave us use of her coupon. (See a distinct difference?)
We were in Disney for the day, on a rainy day, for less than the cost of lunch.
Speaking of lunch. MacTroll also read last night that Paris has recently become the most expensive place to live in the world. It costs more than Tokyo, which if you think about really is mind boggling since when MacTroll was in Japan in 2005, he often had to eat his breakfast and lunch out of vending machines because his NYC level per diem wouldn't cover food at even a fast food place. Lunch at Disney at a Planet Hollywood at Disneyland Paris was much less than lunch in actual downtown Paris at a Bistro. It was insane. How Disney can be cheaper than anything makes no sense to me.
We went on a few rides. The Star Wars Tours was much more fun in French than in English, especially when the guys says, "May the Force Be With You." :-) We also went on the Aerosmith roller coaster, which was a long line, but made me scream and laugh, which MacTroll always love. Their teacups had been altered so they didn't really spin. I wondered if it was to prevent vomiting, but we did our best to keep the saucer turning faster than everyone else. Most of all, people from all over Europe were smiling and laughing. They were, admittedly, much happier when there were younger children around. Once we were in line for the grown up roller coaster, the happiness went away and there were more sullen faces, but hey, such is puberty, right?
We were there from 11 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. When we were done, we picked X-man up a Disney Pixar long-sleeve t-shirt (12 Euros). (He's growing out of the one I got him in February 2008, which was an XS.) Then we got on the train and headed back to the city.
Now we're relaxing before we head out for our last dinner in Paris. Tomorrow, we get on the bus and head back to the airport before flying home to Chicago to see our boy, who apparently has a bit of a cold and a cough.
This whole week, I've enjoyed being child-free, but one thing was certain: Every time I looked at my husband, I felt like something was missing. Sometimes at home I wonder if I ever should have become a mother, particularly when I think I'm royally messing up. But after being here, I know it couldn't have happened any other way, and that we have exactly what we want.
Love you X-man. Can't wait to give you a big hug. And I'm so much happier in the middle of nowhere than I ever could be living in an urban mecca. It's okay to visit. But I adore my home.
MacTroll looked into the tours offered through the hotel desk, and they were kind of expensive 98 Euros each to just go to one of the two Disney parks with a bus that would pick us up and drop us off at the hotel. But we'd have to be on the bus at 7 a.m. Mmmm, the park doesn't open until 10 a.m., so that was lame. Plus, it was expensive. But we were going to Disney so we knew we were in for using up some cash. Instead, we walked a half mile and picked up the train for under 7 Euros each. The Disney stop is the last stop on the train. You literally tumble out halfway between Disney Village (their Downtown Disney) and the two parks (Disneyland and Disney Studios). Of course, it was raining when we got there, and I was feeling cold, so we picked me up an extra sweatshirt (40 Euros) to wear under my rain coat and then we went off and stood in line for tickets.
A one-day park hopper was 68 Euros each. One park ticket was 52 Euros each. So we decided to bite the bullet and go for the hopper. I was already feeling happy about the decision when our train was full of kids with excitable giggles and parents laughing. It made me miss my kid, but I was so happy to be around other people with children. Finally, lightheartedness and humor.
Suddenly, in the ticket purchase line, this woman with two friends and their six kids, turns around and asks me if I speak French. I answer, "Non" honestly. I know enough not to starve. Turns out she knew as much English as I knew French. So we made a go of a discussion. She was a Disney pass holder and had a coupon that she was using for her two friends, but was good for up to four adults. Two one-day park hopper tickets for 15 Euros each and would we like to buy our tickets with them to use the coupon?
Hell, yes!
We were very grateful, and as far as Parisians go, she just totally proved that our experience in the city is probably entirely a city thing. My friend Robin loves everywhere else in France outside of Paris. She also likes to refer to Paris as "NYC with a baguette up it's butt." It's a fair assessment from our experience. But when you get into the land of the minivans (suburbs) something happened. People got more relaxed. They were enjoying their kids. And MacTroll's look of "I can't effing believe my wife brought me to Disney when we're in Paris" went away, and he became much more amiable and open to the idea.
MacTroll before the nice lady gave us 106 Euros back in our pocket... (This is his, "I can't believe I'm here" face.)
After the most awesome French woman in history gave us use of her coupon. (See a distinct difference?)
We were in Disney for the day, on a rainy day, for less than the cost of lunch.
Speaking of lunch. MacTroll also read last night that Paris has recently become the most expensive place to live in the world. It costs more than Tokyo, which if you think about really is mind boggling since when MacTroll was in Japan in 2005, he often had to eat his breakfast and lunch out of vending machines because his NYC level per diem wouldn't cover food at even a fast food place. Lunch at Disney at a Planet Hollywood at Disneyland Paris was much less than lunch in actual downtown Paris at a Bistro. It was insane. How Disney can be cheaper than anything makes no sense to me.
We went on a few rides. The Star Wars Tours was much more fun in French than in English, especially when the guys says, "May the Force Be With You." :-) We also went on the Aerosmith roller coaster, which was a long line, but made me scream and laugh, which MacTroll always love. Their teacups had been altered so they didn't really spin. I wondered if it was to prevent vomiting, but we did our best to keep the saucer turning faster than everyone else. Most of all, people from all over Europe were smiling and laughing. They were, admittedly, much happier when there were younger children around. Once we were in line for the grown up roller coaster, the happiness went away and there were more sullen faces, but hey, such is puberty, right?
We were there from 11 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. When we were done, we picked X-man up a Disney Pixar long-sleeve t-shirt (12 Euros). (He's growing out of the one I got him in February 2008, which was an XS.) Then we got on the train and headed back to the city.
Now we're relaxing before we head out for our last dinner in Paris. Tomorrow, we get on the bus and head back to the airport before flying home to Chicago to see our boy, who apparently has a bit of a cold and a cough.
This whole week, I've enjoyed being child-free, but one thing was certain: Every time I looked at my husband, I felt like something was missing. Sometimes at home I wonder if I ever should have become a mother, particularly when I think I'm royally messing up. But after being here, I know it couldn't have happened any other way, and that we have exactly what we want.
Love you X-man. Can't wait to give you a big hug. And I'm so much happier in the middle of nowhere than I ever could be living in an urban mecca. It's okay to visit. But I adore my home.
Friday, February 25, 2011
WTF Paris -- Loosey Edition
1. Remind me the next time I'm in Paris to hang out on Rue Malakoff. They clearly know how to party. (Yes, the green container is recycling for the neighborhood.)
2. Yes. This is sugar to put in my coffee...called Daddy.
3. I know I mentioned it before... but these are churros next to the ferris wheel. In a land of amazing pastry, why must you have this kind of crap?
4. At 35, my boobs don't stand up (not that they ever did). I guess it's a good thing I can get a silk screened t-shirt that will make me look like I'm 20. :-)
5. I'm sure all French people are rushing to Abercrombie and Fitch for a University of Wisconsin Badgers shirt, so they can run out and play American football -- in the spring...
6. I've seen people flock to the movie theater for Harry Potter, but the movie posters don't show anything uber exciting. So why were the four movie theaters we passed at 2:30-3:30 p.m. on a Thursday this packed?
7. This ad for a Wesley Snipes DVD was on EVERY street corner news stand. Why? Is Wesley big in Paris the way Germans love the Hoff?
8. Elvis is everywhere on the right bank near the Louvre. Yes, it's where there are a lot of American Hotels, so I get that they have an American diner with him, the Blues Brothers, etc. across the way from Hard Rock Café, but this is a store, down a side alley 1/2 mile away that sells only Elvis memorabilia.
9. I love when the French rename American films. They're so much better at it than when we rename French films. I went to see this movie in the states where it's called, "No Strings Attached," but I like that the French cut through the bullshit and just called a spade a spade. :-)
9. These two go together, because, well, I live in the middle of farm land. And I have to say, apparently, we're doing it wrong. Gentleman Farmers of Illinois, you're supposed to dress like late 1980s early 1990s pseudo preppy college students. You know, that era just after the up collar polo but before the grunge plaid?
10. Why are public toilets in France always closed when I need to use them? And since I'm a tourist, why is it always at all the major tourist attractions, where at least 50 people need to pee every hour?
The Walk Around
We've been heading up and down the River Seine every day this week. Day one, since we just got here, we managed only 3 miles. Day 2 was 7 miles. Day 3 was 7 miles and 3 hours at the Louvre. Day 4 was 10.5 miles and standing around in line to see the Eiffel Tour at night. I had mittens on, but I was still so cold when the sun went down that my thumbs went numb. Day 5 was 5.25 miles back and forth to Napoleon's Tomb.
We managed to get back to the hotel to collapse and then head down the street to a pretty decent Sushi dinner a block from the hotel. We've kind of covered all the places that we wanted to go together. Today, we went somewhere I'm not wild about. MacTroll is a giant history buff. I adore history, but I don't really get excited about military history museums. He does. So today, we went off to Musée de l'Armée to see a history of military weapons, armor, canons, uniforms, etc., and Napoleon's Tomb.
Here's the thing about Paris, in my point of view, the whole city is surrounded by death. Everything is a historical marker from hundreds of years ago, lists of names of those that have died working for the greatness of France. I get it. Tradition. Recognition. But you mix this death and war obsession with the overall glumness of the people, and it gets downright depressing. If I were 18, I would love it. I could be all moody and wear black all the time. Seriously, it's no wonder these people had so many revolutions. You can tell in the other blog entry that I wore bright pink leggings to counteract the overall "urban black" that is everywhere. But after 5 days, I'm dying for something a bit more light hearted. So, tomorrow, I'm taking MacTroll on a train ride. Cause, why not get out of the city proper? Plus, I endured three hours of war museum today without complaint. I even engaged and asked questions about the history so, MacTroll could school me with his new found knowledge. Tomorrow is a bit of Loosey-style fun.
Tonight, I got a sample of lightheartedness when we took a cab to dinner (our first cab ride here) and he ran us through the Arc de Triomph circle. I giggled and held onto the handle looking out as little cars and motorcycles slipped through and around us within a foot of our taxi. MacTroll looked concerned. I thought it was awesome. I think, if I was here longer, I'd just hire someone to drive me in and out the stupid circle a half dozen times to take the edge off.
Our fancy dinner out, where I wore my long, silk, Calvin Klein dress (Thank you, Karen's Kloset) and 5" heels was less than 2km away, but in those shoes I wasn't up for walking it. We ate at a trendy restaurant called Pershing Hall. The reviews on google were either that people loved it or hated it. The atmosphere was a bit of an ultra lounge, but the other diners were well over the age of 45. And you'd have to be to afford it. We ate sparingly. We shared an appetizer and then we each got our main dish. And my scallop risotto was good, but it wasn't 42 Euros good. Ya know? Nor does a beer of any kind really improve to the 13 Euro level just because the restaurant has a very romantic and relaxing atmosphere, so while MacTroll had Heineken, I had water.
But damn, I looked pretty. :-)
We also ran into three groups of English speakers this week. The approached my husband when I ran back up to the room for sunglasses. "The Irene and Ed Show" (that's how they introduced themselves). They were from Toronto and were spending a lot of time on little bus trips out of Paris. The we ran into a family from New Jersey in line at the Eiffel Tower. They didn't bother to introduce themselves. :-) Then there were a slew of high school girls hoping to get to make out at the top of the tower. Sigh.
The best food of the day goes to the raspberry doughnut (or beignet de framboises) I had today. Seriously, you think how different can it really be? But the cake part of the doughnut was so soft and squishy that I literally started to suck on it to make it last longer. And the raspberry wasn't just Smuckers squirted into the center. It was a handmade filling, not a jelly or a jam. I loved it.
We managed to get back to the hotel to collapse and then head down the street to a pretty decent Sushi dinner a block from the hotel. We've kind of covered all the places that we wanted to go together. Today, we went somewhere I'm not wild about. MacTroll is a giant history buff. I adore history, but I don't really get excited about military history museums. He does. So today, we went off to Musée de l'Armée to see a history of military weapons, armor, canons, uniforms, etc., and Napoleon's Tomb.
Here's the thing about Paris, in my point of view, the whole city is surrounded by death. Everything is a historical marker from hundreds of years ago, lists of names of those that have died working for the greatness of France. I get it. Tradition. Recognition. But you mix this death and war obsession with the overall glumness of the people, and it gets downright depressing. If I were 18, I would love it. I could be all moody and wear black all the time. Seriously, it's no wonder these people had so many revolutions. You can tell in the other blog entry that I wore bright pink leggings to counteract the overall "urban black" that is everywhere. But after 5 days, I'm dying for something a bit more light hearted. So, tomorrow, I'm taking MacTroll on a train ride. Cause, why not get out of the city proper? Plus, I endured three hours of war museum today without complaint. I even engaged and asked questions about the history so, MacTroll could school me with his new found knowledge. Tomorrow is a bit of Loosey-style fun.
Tonight, I got a sample of lightheartedness when we took a cab to dinner (our first cab ride here) and he ran us through the Arc de Triomph circle. I giggled and held onto the handle looking out as little cars and motorcycles slipped through and around us within a foot of our taxi. MacTroll looked concerned. I thought it was awesome. I think, if I was here longer, I'd just hire someone to drive me in and out the stupid circle a half dozen times to take the edge off.
Our fancy dinner out, where I wore my long, silk, Calvin Klein dress (Thank you, Karen's Kloset) and 5" heels was less than 2km away, but in those shoes I wasn't up for walking it. We ate at a trendy restaurant called Pershing Hall. The reviews on google were either that people loved it or hated it. The atmosphere was a bit of an ultra lounge, but the other diners were well over the age of 45. And you'd have to be to afford it. We ate sparingly. We shared an appetizer and then we each got our main dish. And my scallop risotto was good, but it wasn't 42 Euros good. Ya know? Nor does a beer of any kind really improve to the 13 Euro level just because the restaurant has a very romantic and relaxing atmosphere, so while MacTroll had Heineken, I had water.
But damn, I looked pretty. :-)
We also ran into three groups of English speakers this week. The approached my husband when I ran back up to the room for sunglasses. "The Irene and Ed Show" (that's how they introduced themselves). They were from Toronto and were spending a lot of time on little bus trips out of Paris. The we ran into a family from New Jersey in line at the Eiffel Tower. They didn't bother to introduce themselves. :-) Then there were a slew of high school girls hoping to get to make out at the top of the tower. Sigh.
The best food of the day goes to the raspberry doughnut (or beignet de framboises) I had today. Seriously, you think how different can it really be? But the cake part of the doughnut was so soft and squishy that I literally started to suck on it to make it last longer. And the raspberry wasn't just Smuckers squirted into the center. It was a handmade filling, not a jelly or a jam. I loved it.
Notre Dame and The Eiffel Tour
We did a lot of window shopping yesterday all the way down the left side of the river. I'm cueing up a WTF Paris Blog for tomorrow that is pretty much all photos. But since Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tour are two of the biggest tourist items, I thought they could stand alone.
Notre Dame is on an island across the Seine River from the Louvre. And with all things this old and ancient I am as frightened by it as I am impressed. To go into the church is free of charge. But there are a lengthy set of rules you have to follow. The church houses a perpetual silent prayer. But they still have sermons of some kind in there because for a building that was built over a 200-year period, finishing in 1345, it had been crazily updated with large flat panel screens in areas where viewing the pulpit would be difficult. You can pay 10 Euros each to wait in line to take an elevator up to the top of the building for a view of the city and the river. We skipped that, since we were going to the Eiffel Tour later.
You can also pay a few Euros to get an audio tour of the building in various languages, too. Why does a church frighten me? You have to look at this sucker up close to really understand. Two hundred years of commitment, vision and hard work to sculpt (there is no other word) a building in commitment to God (with the big G) is awe inspiring. Really, this wasn't one man's vision. This was a collective community's devotion. But at the same time, it's totally not some place a carpenter would think God heard more of you than anywhere else in the universe, ya know? There's nothing modest about Notre Dame. There is only money, and the long list of atrocities through history that have been committed in the name of God that begins to flood through my head when I go into places like this. That and since it's Catholic, being told upon entry what all the rules are was kind of funny. They're on the door in big bold letters in many languages with pictorials. No hats, no flash photography, no food, etc. My favorite: Beware of Pickpockets.
Ahhh, Paris and pick pockets. It's definitely still an issue, because there were signs at the Eiffel Tower everywhere, too.
We arrived at the Eiffel Tower around 6 p.m. and by the time we got to the summit (13 Euros each), it was dark. The spot lights at the top of the tower had come on, and we got to see the vast view that is the city. From the Empire State Building in New York, you see a multitude of other buildings with height -- just height that's not as big as the one you're standing on. In Paris, you see all the old. You see how a height restriction makes the city sprawl out instead of up. And in that sense, it's a lot like Washington, D.C. (Thanks to L'Enfant.)
I took this photo of the regular lights on the walk back to our hotel. This area was flooded with immigrants trying to sell everything Eiffel Tour from statues to key chains.
But once an hour for 10 minutes, they light up the tower in giant sparkly lights. We caught the tail end of it when we got back down to the ground. Sorry that it took me a minute to realize I wasn't taking a photo and had to turn the camera.
Notre Dame is on an island across the Seine River from the Louvre. And with all things this old and ancient I am as frightened by it as I am impressed. To go into the church is free of charge. But there are a lengthy set of rules you have to follow. The church houses a perpetual silent prayer. But they still have sermons of some kind in there because for a building that was built over a 200-year period, finishing in 1345, it had been crazily updated with large flat panel screens in areas where viewing the pulpit would be difficult. You can pay 10 Euros each to wait in line to take an elevator up to the top of the building for a view of the city and the river. We skipped that, since we were going to the Eiffel Tour later.
You can also pay a few Euros to get an audio tour of the building in various languages, too. Why does a church frighten me? You have to look at this sucker up close to really understand. Two hundred years of commitment, vision and hard work to sculpt (there is no other word) a building in commitment to God (with the big G) is awe inspiring. Really, this wasn't one man's vision. This was a collective community's devotion. But at the same time, it's totally not some place a carpenter would think God heard more of you than anywhere else in the universe, ya know? There's nothing modest about Notre Dame. There is only money, and the long list of atrocities through history that have been committed in the name of God that begins to flood through my head when I go into places like this. That and since it's Catholic, being told upon entry what all the rules are was kind of funny. They're on the door in big bold letters in many languages with pictorials. No hats, no flash photography, no food, etc. My favorite: Beware of Pickpockets.
Ahhh, Paris and pick pockets. It's definitely still an issue, because there were signs at the Eiffel Tower everywhere, too.
We arrived at the Eiffel Tower around 6 p.m. and by the time we got to the summit (13 Euros each), it was dark. The spot lights at the top of the tower had come on, and we got to see the vast view that is the city. From the Empire State Building in New York, you see a multitude of other buildings with height -- just height that's not as big as the one you're standing on. In Paris, you see all the old. You see how a height restriction makes the city sprawl out instead of up. And in that sense, it's a lot like Washington, D.C. (Thanks to L'Enfant.)
The first floor of the Eiffel Tour has an ice skating rink in the winter... and a restaurant. It's that big. The second floor has a little snack shop, some souvenir stands and two levels. MacTroll is standing at the second level in the photo above. The summit is much smaller and has one guy, standing in a closet which has the neon words, "Champagne Bar" over it. Yes, for a few Euros you can buy a plastic cup of champagne and toast yourselves at the top.
I took this photo of the regular lights on the walk back to our hotel. This area was flooded with immigrants trying to sell everything Eiffel Tour from statues to key chains.
But once an hour for 10 minutes, they light up the tower in giant sparkly lights. We caught the tail end of it when we got back down to the ground. Sorry that it took me a minute to realize I wasn't taking a photo and had to turn the camera.
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