On our European trip we got to spend some time in some of the world’s largest, most active airports: Chicago O’Hare, London Heathrow, Paris Charles de Gaulle, New York JFK, and SEA-TAC.
Long airplane rides + sleeping children = good. This is where the airport play area comes in. Why isn’t there one in every terminal of every airport in the world?
The “Kids on the Fly” at O’Hare sounds really awesome but was too far away from our terminal, as was Air France’s Planete Bleue. We didn’t have any time to kill at Heathrow, and nothing at CDG.
But SEA-TAC… alright! The play area is just past the food/shops area on the way to the A gates, an easy walk from any of the terminals. The floor is bouncy and soft, all the things to climb on are rubbery and curvy, and there’s benches lining the whole thing so us exhausted parents can just sit back and watch the kids burn off steam. Why this isn’t FAA-required standard equipment in all airport terminals is beyond me, but good job SEA-TAC for theirs.
When we were here last, eight years ago, after I proposed to Laura and she accepted we strolled over from Hotel Monge and had a wonderful dinner. We decided to try and find the same place. So we walked up and down the entire Rue de Mouffetard until we found what we thought might be the place. Neither of us were convinced it was, but for some reason the waitress was. We’d read a bit that dining out with a toddler may be frowned upon in Paris, since they take their dinners so seriously. But we discovered that wasn’t exactly true, especially if you go out early enough to beat the crowds. In the case of this fondue place Meadow was a star and the waitress was carrying her around and giving her chocolates. We had a lovely meal consisting first of an appartif (Kir), then a delicious cheese fondue with baggett, ham, and salad, followed by a chocolate fondue with in-season fruits. Oh yes, and plenty of wine.
The “lap infant” thing is fine on the plane when it’s a short flight, or when the baby is still an infant. But Meadow is 21 months and she likes to stand, jump, kick, and do all kinds of normal activity which for long durations Mommy or Daddy’s laps aren’t suited for (OK, mostly she wants Mommy’s).
Since she’s under two years, she flies for free on our lap, although we had to pay 10% of the regular fare for her on the international flight. This is because they do make special accommodation (if possible).
The first “trick” we discovered is that there’s a flag in their seating system for lap infants. Make sure they’ve got that flag set for you. That way they’ll only put people in the seats next to you as a last resort. We did this, and we made sure that my seat was one away. So, in the case where the plane config is three-seats, aisle, three-seats, we book Lu with the infant in the window seat, me in the aisle seat, and usually the middle seat will be left open. If they do put someone in it, they always agree to trade with me.
For the big jet (Boeing 777) the config is two-seats, aisle, five-seats, aisle, two-seats. We’d also read about the existence of a “sky-cot” for the bulkhead row. So we called and found out from American Airlines that about 30 seats are reserved for the gate attendants to assign, meaning it’s first come first serve at the gate if you want the bulkhead. So the second “trick” was to get to the gate before anyone else. We got up at 4:30 AM on the day of departure, taxied from our digs in Paris to Charles de Gaule airport, checked-in, cleared security, and made it to the gate almost two full hours before departure. Lu was one of the first in line when the gate agent arrived, and it paid off. We got seats 20 C and E, which is the bulkhead and with the “lap infant” flag meant they’d only give away seat D as a last resort.
They didn’t, and so we not only had a third seat for MJ, but we also made joyful use of the extra bulkhead legroom and the sky-cot. It’s basically just a foldable metal bassinet (with turbulence restraint) that securely plugs into the bulkhead. Meadow slept there very comfortably, although it’s really designed for smaller babies. Fortunately she’s small for her size. She even enjoyed it so much that she sat in it to read books and work her puzzle.
The third “trick”, which was mostly just luck on our part, but worthwhile to check, is which seats have DC power. I was keen enough to have brought the car-charger adapter for the laptop and it worked like a charm. We watched three movies without ever having to swap batteries. This was true for both the 8hr Paris-JFK, and 6hr JFK-SEA flights. For figuring which are the good seats on planes, I found this website very helpful: http://www.seatguru.com.
The last “trick” should be obvious but I just have to say, for the record, that Laura’s motto of “kill ‘em with kindness” is definitely a rule to live by. Both in the check-in line and at the gate there was this horribly rude woman barking at every employee. Who knows if she was in the right or wrong, but who cares when you treat people poorly? Here’s a vid that depicts two different styles of dealing with airplane attendants: which do you think gets better results?
Today was Easter Sunday and we took the metro to Bois de Vincennes. While waiting for our train Meadow discussed the joys of hearing her voice reverberate in the tunnel:
I just love riding the metro in Paris. There’s something about it that I find quite pleasing. (London or Manhattan, fun but not as much). The Paris metro is very intuitive, artsy, exciting, fun, and a bit grungy. Sometimes I think, if I lived here, I might just ride the metro around for the fun of it. They’ve also got a very well done plan interactif (interactive map) online.
We had a fun time with the baby stroller in the Paris metro – lots of stairs (and pretty hot in the tunnels). Stroller doesn’t fit through the regular ticket gates so you have to get the attention of the lone employee sitting in a booth 15 yards away. When she sees you need to get through she pushes the buzzer on the “luggage/buggy” gate with barely a nod.
In London the employees at the subways (most everywhere for that matter) were oddly helpful and nice (relative to what I’m used to in the USA). There was always someone standing by the “luggage/buggy” gate to let you through and check your ticket. Generally with a smile and helpful/open demeanor. There also seemed to be a lot of attendants at the big stations, and a few at the smaller.
In Paris I rarely saw more than a few attendants at the big stations. At a very large and busy station we saw a soccer-team sized group of teenage boys strut through and hop the gates. The lone attendant, behind the glass, was too busy selling tickets to notice. Both places had machines you could buy your tickets from, but neither worked with our credit card, since it doesn’t have the fancy European microchip.
Another station in Paris had no attendant in the booth. The text and icon on the gate said “push the call button”. I looked around for a button. I found one on the wall that had the same icon (profile of a head with radar waves coming out the open mouth). I pushed. Alarm sounds. Reverberating through the mostly ceramic and concrete room. We wait a bit, cringing. No one comes. Laura goes through the regular gate with a ticket, opens the exit and lets the stroller and myself in. We proceed through the tunnel, down the stairs, follow the signs, find the correct platform. Alarm still sounding throughout entire station and down to the platform. People aren’t really noticing. We pass under the CCTV monitors (I wave at myself) and stand there for five minutes until the train comes. We get on the train and breath a visible sigh of relief at getting away from the repetetive, loud, buzzing. Again, no one else seemed to notice.
In general I would say the staff anywhere were more friendly in London than Paris. It’s not that I found the French grumpy, per se, they were just busy thinking about more important things. Once I learned to step right up, be decisive, and ask for what I want (making sure to say “bonjour/suis”, “si vous plait”, “merci beaucoup”, and if necessary “désolé”) things started to become much easier.
Since Laura and I had already been through Notre Dame on our last Europe trip, we didn’t go there with Meadow to see the church. We went to feed the birds. Oh, how things change when you have a child.
The weather was very windy, blowing in big rain clouds then blowing them out and giving good stretches of sunshine. We even got to play in a couple hail storms. As Alaskans, we came prepared. In fact, Meadow was an oddity to many folks in her rubber boots and full body rain suit. She got to jump around in the puddles while the other kids just got their wool coats and scarves wet and watched her longingly.
After feeding the pigeons we went and looked at the “street performer” (gypsy?) dressed up as some kind of silver statue. She’d bow every time someone put a coin in her cup but was otherwise stone-still. Lu noticed when traffic died down her accomplices (fellow troupe members?) would approach and put coins in the cup, to garner attention. I did the math and figured they earned about 60 euros an hour, during optimal flow. Not bad! And more respectable than the ones that approached us at the train station with a note about being a Bosnian refuge and trying to get me to hold her baby while the other circled behind me eyeing my pockets. Cute baby though.
Finding things to do in Paris with the baby takes a different twist than when it’s just adults. Meadow doesn’t have much interest in the Musee de Louvre, and the weather is also a bit Juneau-y so we can’t go sit on the grass.
So we’re focusing on things all three of us would enjoy. And what better than a ride on La Petit Train around Montmartre and the Basilica Sacre Coeur? Not much!
If you don’t know, Sacre Coeur is a catholic basilica built at the highest point in all of Paris. Compared with many of the other churches we’ve seen on our trip, it’s the youngest (construction began in the late 1800s). The church itself is quite amazing, as is the view from top of Montmartre hill.
The little train cost five euros and we hopped on right at the base of the basilica. The tour lasts about 30 minutes and the driver’s english is almost understandable. The best part is the weather wasn’t great so we just sat back and got to tour all over the Montmartre area in a covered train.
Because its Easter this weekend, entering the church was too much, but a service was in session during our visit and they broadcast it on loudspeakers. It’s quite a setting to have the basilica behind, Paris spread infront, and choir reverberating. Tres bon!
Yesterday we trained from Avignon back up to Paris. Au revoir Provence, we adore you!
And now in Paris, we are so excited! We were here once before, when we got engaged, and without la petit fille, so it was a bit different.
We’ve rented a studio apartment on the top floor of a typical French building pretty much in the center of Paris (La Marais). The building is very secure, and everything is very “French” (IE: compact). For example, the ascenseur (elevator) *almost* fits our whole family, but I had to bring the luggage up one piece at a time.
We drove an hour south through Arles to the region known as the Camargue, which is a huge wildlife sanctuary. At the end of the road is a mediterranean town called Saintes Marie de la Mer. Here we bought some bread and Poulon Roti (rotiserrie chicken) at the outdoor market and found a spot on the beach to have lunch. The weather was warm (mid-60s F) but the wind coming off the ocean was quite nippy, so we ate in the boot of the car before strolling the beach and throwing rocks at the waves.
Everyone knows France is renown for its wine and cheese. It is not true that wine comes out of the taps here instead of water. But it is true that the wine is very good and very inexpensive. On the other hand, the cheese is not. But let me be clear: the cheese is good, it’s just not inexpensive. Take the parmesan in the picture. If you can do the math and conversion yourself, great, if not here ya go: 30 euros per Kilogram (kg). With the current conversion rate that’s about $45/kg. There’s about two pounds in one kg. So the cost of one pound of this luscious stuff: $22. Wow! Don’t get me wrong, it is delicious, and it’s hand made locally and all that, but… Wow!
MJ celebrates after ascending some steps in Saint-Remy. Going up and down stairs is one of her favorite past times these days, and she gets upset if you try to offer her any help.
Here’s some vid of Meadow getting her groove on in the Saint-Remy weekly market. Not many folks let their kids run around here, so she was a bit of an anomaly and her dad (me) only got a few dirty looks from booth-keepers (touche pas!). Also, as luck would have it, the gentlemen in the blue Nikes is also the same lovely fellow who picked Meadow up 60km away while we were at the market in Aix.
Long day knocking on doors for signatures. You can also email the Commission directly: @ci.juneau.ak.us">PC_Comments@ci.juneau.ak.us - http://basinroad.com [freeryan]
2c @arbooth: concerned Alaskans want growth among young professional families. Having a home we can grow in has statewide relevance. So, YES [freeryan]
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