travelogue
Set alarm for 5 AM Tuesday, in an attempt to get a head-start on jet-lag, but woke up at 3 AM to go to the bathroom, and was unable to get back to sleep. So I checked in for our flight, scanned in our passports, etc. then did some gainful-employment stuff.
Took three hours out of the middle of the day to drive the dogs to the dog-sitter's home near Newark, eat lunch, and drive home. More gainful-employment stuff. Packed bags.
After dinner, car service took us to JFK to fly to Paris. Flight left on time (a few hours ahead of the government shutdown).
Some time in the middle of the night, somewhere over the Atlantic, I woke up feeling extremely ill, and drenched in a cold sweat, with my wife shaking me and saying "Are you alright?" She reports that I had keeled over into the (vacant) seat to my left, my hands were twitching, and she tried to wake me up without success until I sat up on my own, staring straight ahead and breathing through my mouth. A flight attendant or two also came to help, offering water, "moist towelettes", etc. Eventually I got up to go to the bathroom: standing up and walking seemed to help clear my head. But it was at least another hour before I felt mostly normal.
Once we landed in Paris on Wednesday morning, passed passport control, and retrieved our luggage, we stopped at the urgent-care clinic in the airport. They took my temperature, BP, and pulse-oxygen, and took an EKG, none of which showed anything interesting. Since I was feeling OK by this time (aside from jet-lag), I opted to go on with our vacation plans (at least until it happens again, which it hasn't yet).
We checked into our reserved studio apartment (which is literally the size of our bathroom at home) and crashed for a while.
The building, in an apparently gay-leaning part of the Marais, is decorated in interesting ways. Every room is named after a different fashion designer (we were in Dior). And every room has a different original wall-painting: here’s the Avengers wall painting revealed when we folded down the Murphy bed to sleep on it. In fact, you're looking at basically the entire apartment. Including the bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, and sitting-room, it's about 12![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hudebnik-feet square. (You can see both the bathroom sink and the kitchen stove in the mirror.)
Using the wifi in the room, I e-mailed my doctor in NYC, who thinks investigating the seizurey-thing can probably wait until we get home.
Tomorrow, as we continue trying to get over jet-lag, we're visiting three museums in Paris. One opens at 8 AM, and another closes at 9 PM, and we think two of the three don't have a lot of stuff up our alley, so we might actually do justice to three museums in a day. If not, one of them will fall off the list and that's OK.
The next day, probably, a day-trip to Chantilly for the Limbourg Brothers exhibit (among other things).
Took three hours out of the middle of the day to drive the dogs to the dog-sitter's home near Newark, eat lunch, and drive home. More gainful-employment stuff. Packed bags.
After dinner, car service took us to JFK to fly to Paris. Flight left on time (a few hours ahead of the government shutdown).
Some time in the middle of the night, somewhere over the Atlantic, I woke up feeling extremely ill, and drenched in a cold sweat, with my wife shaking me and saying "Are you alright?" She reports that I had keeled over into the (vacant) seat to my left, my hands were twitching, and she tried to wake me up without success until I sat up on my own, staring straight ahead and breathing through my mouth. A flight attendant or two also came to help, offering water, "moist towelettes", etc. Eventually I got up to go to the bathroom: standing up and walking seemed to help clear my head. But it was at least another hour before I felt mostly normal.
Once we landed in Paris on Wednesday morning, passed passport control, and retrieved our luggage, we stopped at the urgent-care clinic in the airport. They took my temperature, BP, and pulse-oxygen, and took an EKG, none of which showed anything interesting. Since I was feeling OK by this time (aside from jet-lag), I opted to go on with our vacation plans (at least until it happens again, which it hasn't yet).
We checked into our reserved studio apartment (which is literally the size of our bathroom at home) and crashed for a while.
The building, in an apparently gay-leaning part of the Marais, is decorated in interesting ways. Every room is named after a different fashion designer (we were in Dior). And every room has a different original wall-painting: here’s the Avengers wall painting revealed when we folded down the Murphy bed to sleep on it. In fact, you're looking at basically the entire apartment. Including the bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, and sitting-room, it's about 12
hudebnik-feet square. (You can see both the bathroom sink and the kitchen stove in the mirror.)Using the wifi in the room, I e-mailed my doctor in NYC, who thinks investigating the seizurey-thing can probably wait until we get home.
Tomorrow, as we continue trying to get over jet-lag, we're visiting three museums in Paris. One opens at 8 AM, and another closes at 9 PM, and we think two of the three don't have a lot of stuff up our alley, so we might actually do justice to three museums in a day. If not, one of them will fall off the list and that's OK.
The next day, probably, a day-trip to Chantilly for the Limbourg Brothers exhibit (among other things).