Saturday, March 28, 2015

You know you've become a Parisian when ...

You muttered Merde under your breath when the pilot said it was raining as your plane landed in Paris. Before, the same announcement used to make you think of romance, walks in the rain with a soulful guy, and crossing the wet Pont des Arts under the shimmering street lights.

You did not notice that you just bumped someone on the sidewalk on rue Vieille du Temple in the Marais district in Paris. You used to turn around and apologized profusely with a big smile.

Without thinking, you move your foot to one side or the other to avoid dog poo that is still present on the sidewalks in some areas of Paris despite the law saying you have to pick up your dog's poo. You used to either have to constantly look down or throw away your shoes after stepping on a poo of a particularly sick dog.

After waiting a long time in line (a queue), you take your time to greet, joke and carry small conversation with the person serving you in the shop despite the long line still behind you. You used to try to be real quick in order not to make others wait.

You walk into a coffee shop and you say Bonjour loudly as a general greeting to those present already (some will answer Bonjour back, some will ignore you which you don't care. It's just become a habit like for all Parisians). You used to just walk to the counter or a table and wait to order your coffee.

You drink espresso all the time except in the morning when you drink coffee with milk. And, in the café, you order for them as 'un express' or un serré for the espresso and 'une creme' instead of café au lait, and quickly and efficiently to make sure the zipping waiter hears you. You used to wait politely for the waiter to notice you, which could take forever.

You're quick to help someone with little things, like holding the metro door from closing when someone attemps to rush on after the doors-closing signal sounds or giving a pen to someone who needs one as he/she is talking on the phone (you've also been listening to AND understand what he/she has been gabbing about on the phone).

You recognize the pickpockets as soon as you get on the metro and before the announcement saying 'presence of pickpockets' (no kidding, they do that now) by the metro conductor. Before, you probably would have greeted and smiled at these same pickpockets.

You still try to weasel in onto a crowded metro despite protests from other users.

You stay stoned face as some crazy person is harrassing other metro users and discretely move to another car to avoid the said crazy.

You only wear your tennis shoes to play tennis. You used to wear them everywhere just because they're so comfy. Now, you wear leather shoes to walk or go to the market.

You wear scarf to accessorize even when it's hot. And you spent an hour getting it to hang just right around your neck.

You participate in a protest or a march, especially when it's a nice day out. You used to just watch on the sidewalk.

You complain about how things are and then you complain some more when they change ...(from an American friend).

(UPDATES will be added as I get more tips from others....mostly from visiting American friends)

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Paris Départ : Madrid

This past Xmas, I wanted to spend it somewhere. So, when friends (all girls) planned a Xmas in Marbella, I happily joined them. But I also had other agenda. I had not travelled much since I got sick. And though hard to admit, I was probably a bit more afraid to just pack up and go than I was before. Also, now I have to pack my medications which put a cramp to the idea of spontaneity in travelling that I always adhered to. But, life must go on. I want to make this trip as a step towards recuperating my fondness for spontaneous travel. Otherwise, what sane gay man would want to spend a week with 5 women ranging from not so young to mature and single or without their husband? 

Madrid metro from Barajas
So, the girls, sorry the womyn, left for Marbella (Malaga is the closest airport to go there). I left a few days later heading first to Madrid to have time by myself (the idea of spending a week with women, though fun, would require a preparation in the form of being with other gay males first). Madrid makes me think of Almodovar with  his wierdly wonderful movies often with gay or ambiguous male characters who are always sexy and appetizing. To make the séjour as gay as possible, I stayed in the gay hostel La Zona. It's  simple, clean and most importantly has very nice hosts (two quite
pleasant to look at guys). It is in a great location near Gran Via (a very lively center of Madrid and has great metro lines) and Chueca (the gay area of Madrid). Since you get your own key at the hotel, you feel like you're visiting friends rather than staying in a hotel. From Madrid Barajas airport, you can either take the metro or the bus to Gran Via (about 30-40 minutes, and just minutes on foot to the hotel).

First thing I wanted to do was just walk around Madrid. To see HAPPY smiley and noisy people. With gray and cold weather, Parisians were not at that time the happiest people on earth (though even when sun shines Parisians are not known to be the happiest people). It was lovely to go see people out and about late at night (Gran Via at midnight looks like rush hours in many other cities what with all the people and the noise they make). I took metro rides and walked all over (bought a 1 day tourist card that let you unlimited ride for the day on buses and metros, including the metro from the airport to town).

Near Plaza Mayor, I found a good little restaurant with the friendliest waiters with whom I managed to communicate even though they did not speak French or English. And we laughed a lot talking sign language of sort and mimes and charades. Unthinkable in Paris. The little restaurant (between Plaza Major and Puerta del Sol is called Jaleo.
Grilled entrecote
They have great grilled entrecote served with what looks like jalapenos along with a big glass of sangria. Their coffee con leche (with milk) is delicious too. The gay Chueca was  not jumping that night at least not outdoors since it's a bit cold.

High speed Spanish trains

Inside the Renfe high speed train
To get to Malaga, I decided to take the high speed train rather than fly. RENFE is the name of the railway company in Spain. The Madrid train station felt more like an airport than a train station. And indeed, the train itself I thought was better than French TGVs. Seated in Tourist Plus class, we were given candy and earphones to listen to music or watch the tv screens bolted to the ceiling in the center of the train every so many rows. I listened to music, not understanding what the hell was going on on tv (some soap opera that looked quite dramatic even without sound or understanding what is being said). There is a buy on board service on the train...a trolley service meaning that you can just be lazy in your seat and wait til they pass. The seats were incredibly comfortable. About 3 hours later I was in Malaga. Took my jacket off, walked out of the train station and said Hello to the Sunshine. Long time no see ! Sigh, it was already time to catch the bus to join the women in Marbella. Cooties !

French speak, again...and Frenchy hamburgers

Today, after all these years, I think my French has improved. Et heureusement (which means, A good thing ! or Luckily !). After all, it is possible that I still mumble incomprehensible French even after all this time in Paris, you know, especially now since there are so many opportunities to speak English and to just live your life here using English or even as if you brought your US, Australian life and plunked it on this Ile de France. Shops, restaurants, rental agencies that speak English or geared for anglophone clients can now be found in many places in Paris. That was not the case before. It was a necessity to speak French when I first arrived here. A good thing because it forced me to learn French quick.  I know I have improved my French since I now have dreams (not all the time, but sometimes) in French. And it does happen time to time that I can think of the word for something in French, but not in English though I know that I know that word. This means that the English word of the thing has become less accessible than the French word. Of course, this disappers in a matter of days when I go to the US, or even the UK (I say even because English accent, whilst pretty, is not always easy to understand for me). I also start showing a disturbing confusion between the languages used in my thoughts (the word/concept I am thinking of) and in my action (writing or typing the word). Happened a couple of times where I was thinking of the word "AND" but was typing "ET" on my macbook  before realizing the discrepancy in the language of thought and of action. I can reel off my cell number in French without thinking, but have to pause and think to say it in English. And the opposite for my landline number (ok, maybe it's just because I use my cell phone for my calls in France but my landline to call the US).

English is now everywhere in Paris, meaning even outside tourist areas. In bistrots where waiters would ignore you because your don't speak French before,  now often have waiters who speak English and seem to like doing so (ok, I probably should not exagerate either, but ...). Sadly, we also see fewer traditional aging men in black apron and crisp white shirt as waiters (very professional and you have to really earn their smile). Many waiters and waitresses are now young, speak English and smile !
Another sign that may indicate more acceptance of things English (or Anglo) is the mushrooming Hamburger joints. Yes, hamburgers. But, this being France, nothing like hamburgers found in fast food places. Indeed, these French joints vindicate their Frenchness by identifying their burgers as 'Frenchy' (the adjective the French think Americans and other English speaking countries use to designate Frenchness rather than just French.Or to just drive the point more).
Captain B.
They also insist on the quality of the meat, the bread and everything else they put in the burger as local and healthy, to distance their burgers from the most known but often considered junk food burgers of the golden arches ! The big distance can of course be found in the prices. A 'menu' Big Mac in Paris costs around 7 euros. Comparable serving of a burger, side dish (home made fries/potatoes) and a drink in Frenchy burger joints may cost you 3 to 4 times that.
Le Mal Barré
Hamburger Classique
A couple burger places that I have tried and liked are : Captain B (my favorite) in Ave Trudaine near métro Anvers and also Le Malbarré near République .
Note oct 2015 :
Captain B. is now closed apparently, replaced by another burger restaurant called Street art...

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Paris walking and your feet (know a podiatrist ?)

Paris is best discovered on foot. This has been said a thousand times before. Or, these days, on rented bike (the Velib, see my other entry) on buses (huge network) and le métro (very extensive and in total apparently around 220 km long ! :-o). Nowadays, there are also the trams (mostly in the edges circling Paris along the peripheriques or ring roads) and Autolib (the electric car equivalent of Velib. You take a car for fractions of half hours and, like velib, you take a car in one place and return it in another place. The time is calculated from the moment you unplug the car to the moment you replug the car in your destination). Cycling, driving, riding on a bus indeed give one different views of Paris. Metro is essentially if you want to get anywhere fast and easy. If taking the metro, always check the website ratp.fr to see if there are problems on certain lines or stations closed for work or other problems such as, I hear this often, voyageur malade or sick passanger !. Buses allows you to observe what's going on from a comfortable height and comfortable environment. Seated on a window seat, you could peacefully contemplate the buildings that wizz by (never too fast, given the traffic in Paris thought buses have until now their own lanes usable also by taxis), or people watch bordering on voyeurism. Bikes are probably less peaceful as you have to watch for cars, buses and pedestrians (bikes are prohibited on pavements but can use the bus lanes to the annoyances of bus and taxi drivers). Walking of course puts you in the middle of it all in Paris. You might not have a complete view of everything like when you sit in a bus, but you definitely feel things more: the stress of the people, their happiness, their fear, and obviously their attitudes (gleaned from whether they act like they are the only people on this earth and thus the pavement belongs to them...you move aside or I'll bump you, or some even smile at you !). In Paris we do a lot of walking (even when taking the metro, you will walk to the station, up and down stairways since escalators are not always available). And walking has been credited to contribute to the cardiac health of Parisians despite their stressful life (as life would be in any large city) and polluted air. Indeed, Parisians apparently have healthier heart (physiologically speaking here) than people living in the countryside of France. In any case, you cannot but develop a love for walking once you come to Paris. In Los Angeles, my dream as a young boy was of course to own a car so I could zip anywhere (notably at that time, West Hollywood. The Rage was THE gay club to go then...I remember the letter e got short-circuited I guess and at night you see the name RAG instead of Rage lol). Walking was unthinkable. In my time, LA did not have the subway (and still minimal today) and the bus system would make you cry Hallelujah when you finally see a bus approaching after a long interminable wait. Walking was never an option or a possible means of transport that one considers. OK, maybe to see your neighbor, but that's it. Everywhere else it was by car. So, discovering the joy of walking was something new to me then (first in NYC, then Melbourne, then Paris. Paris by far is the best place to walk though). One thing you notice maybe is the number of podiatrists in Paris. Just walking in my neighborhood I find a few offices of podiatrists. Why asked I before. I know now the answer. Walking maybe fun, but it is could be hard on your feet. Lately, I have had bad back, pain on my hip etc. which I tell myself cannot yet be attributed to aging. I discovered via x-ray (done for other reasons) one of my legs is longer than the other (what ?). Apparently, this is normal, no one has exactly two same length legs. But on the x ray, one leg was longer more than 1 cm compared to the other. If walking a lot, you may feel the consequences over time. So, I was sent to see a podologue or foot doctor, I guess (podiatrist ?).
Many are private practitionners, but I was tipped to go to a podologie school where you are seen by students and their professor and can be measured for insoles (sole to insert in your shoes) to correct potential problems associated with walking. The examination takes longer because these are students practicing (but supervised) what they are learning. But you do pay less than going to a private practionner and, for me so far so good. I am loving walking Paris by night or by day even more with these soles in my shoes !

Monday, March 23, 2015

Stevens-Johnson and Lyell Syndromes

You probably never heard of the syndrome Stevens-Johnson or Lyell. But you should. Before it's too late. These are syndromes due to a severe allergic reaction to medications (that can be, in principle, any medication, but statistically more likely due to sulfamide antibiotics, allopurinol etc.). I had to live through this syndrome and almost died in the ICU (Réanimation in French) at hospital Bichât in Paris. For me the cause was a sulfamide family antibiotic. The syndrome first develops with skin eruption, fever and eruption of the mucus parts of the body (eyes, mouth, anus). To describe what I was like, it was as if I had survived severe burns. But from the inside (indeed the severity of the reaction is often described as percentage of burn). My skin was coming off (necessitating specific care to prevent infection which is a huge risk as skin protects us from nasty intruders), my mouth was an open wound. And my eyes. I still have traces of this experience in my eyes as during the healing process, the cornea stuck to the mucus parts of the eyes. These and other possible consequences could be severely debilitating. I was lucky as I only had, relatively speaking, minor traces, but there are others who were so handicapped that they could not work anymore or live a life as before. Many doctors are probably not familiar with these syndromes either (they make mistake them for other skin eruption conditions), which means that a patient may not get the care he or she needs. And early care of the syndrome does have positive effects in term of traces and survival. The two syndromes have mortality rates between 30 and 40 percents. It is rare (about one person in a million in France). The long term effets, aside from obvious physical consequences, include psychological ones such as post-traumatic stress. In Paris, Henri Mondor Hospital in the suburb of Creteil is considered to be the best to treat these syndromes. They have the best MDs and dermatologists who specialize in care of and do research on the syndromes. There is also an association for survivors of the syndrome in France (Amalyste). I read experiences as told by survivors of the syndrome. I take my hat off to them. They are very brave people who fight through a very difficult experience and continue to fight despite all that they have to live with following the syndromes.

Paris pollution

In the past couple of weeks, the temperature in Paris has yoyo-ed a lot, resulting in many people being ill. In addition, the pollution in Paris as measured by Airparif, the association that watches over pollution in the air, has reached dangerous levels. This has led to high level meetings between the Minister of Ecology (at the time of writing, it's Segolene Royal) and the mayor of Paris (Anne Hidalgo) and other actors, to decide what to do. This has resulted in alternate licence plates (depending on whether your licence plate ends in an odd or even numbers) allowed in Paris today and the next couple of days (if maintained, the pollution level seems to be decreasing to less dangerous level apparently). If your licence plate ends in an odd number today (Monday 23 march), you're probably out of luck. Exceptions are given to electric cars and cars having at least 3 people in it regardless whether it has a licence plate ending in an odd or even number. This has led people to carpooling of course, but also good business for rental companies (at least for the cars with plates allowed that day). Many also brave the rule and will probably be fined if stopped. Public transport has also been free to all since yesterday and will continue (perhaps) for a few days. Of course, most Parisians have monthly or yearly transport card (Pass Navigo) meaning the this measure probably only affects tourists or those who usually drive to work. The velib (bike rental system in Paris, see another entry in this blog) also is free All these measures should apparently lower the pollution level by 6 percent, which does not sound a lot to me. But still I am impressed (despite criticisms saying that the authority did not react early enough) that there are even measures to be put in place in this kind of situation...many Asian cities could use the same !

Paris hospitals

I bet you'd be hard pressed to find articles on this kind of blogs about hospitals. Having spent four months in three different hospitals in Paris area, I consider myself a bit of an expert on this now. Three hospitals and three very different experience. One thing I will say about public hospitals, they are really good places to lose weight. I thought it difficult to find bad food in Paris. Boy, did I find out where bad food lurks: public hospitals. When I first stayed in a public hospital (july 2013), the nurse came and asked me what I wanted for dinner in the morning or the night before. After being read out the choices for that night (entrée or appetizer, plat principal or what we call entré in the US, and desserts and cheese), I was so impressed and was actually looking forward to dinner.
But oh boy, when it finally arrived, my disappointment was bigger than Texas. In France, how good your food looks is as just important as how it tastes. Not in this hospital. Presentation at public hospital ? Shame, shame, shame. Styrofoam box with sorry looking meat or chicken, tired or dried out vegetable and no taste whatsoever. How could they make food so bad ? The food apparently arrives from somewhere else (I imagine an industrial site, no kidding), kept warm and arrived at hospitals by trucks to be distributed. If you were not too sick when you enter the hospital, you would probably be after the very first meal you had there. I have never been a picky eater, but that was simply inedible. I lost a lot of weights in two months (ok, probably due more to my illness, but the food served there simply did not help...I would rather go hungry than eat it). Sometime they served fruit, and I thought how could you ruin the taste of fruits ? Well, you can actually (by buying the lowest quality food ? they are for patients that need to eat and get better for goodness sake.


Cognacq Jay Hospital Paris
The last two months of hospitalisation were spent in a hospital that is an association (I guess, funded by both private and government fundings). Beautiful building (designed by a Japanese architect, see photo on the left) that has nothing to do with the public hospitals where I was (one of them had crumbling windows and floors !). Food was also prepared by chefs on site and was served on real plates with nice cutlery (see photo bottom right). There was also afternoon tea with a cake everyday. I quickly regained all the weights I lost (and even more) during my stay in this hospital. On site, there is a physiotherapy room as well as art classes that are supposedly therapeutic.
In all hospitals you will find a psychologist, and a social assistant (to help you with administrative matters and more...never having spent time in hospitals in the US or Australia, I don't know if they have them there too). Despite differences in hardware of public and less public hospitals, it has to be said that the staff are equally competent in all of them. The doctors in the two public hospitals are well-known and respected specialists, and the nurses are wonderful (ok, maybe some more than others). Ditto in the semi private hospital. I have come to respect enormously the work that these health care professionals do. They work in difficult conditions (not enough staff, often horrible and long hours, sometimes inadequate facilities as in public hospitals) but they soldier on.

Sunday, March 22, 2015

French health system as experienced by me ...

In a way, I was lucky (if you could ever call getting sick Lucky) that I fell sick in Paris or in France. The health system here is nothing like the US pre Obama, where when you did not have private insurance, well just rather tough luck. The French system probably is closer to the more ‘social’ systems of Canada and Australia. In my case, the national insurance took care of all my médical expenses. This is due to the nature of my illness, considered to be long term illness (there is a gouvernment list indicating what illnesses are considered long term or ALD = Affection Longue Durée in French), which gave me the right to a 100 percent coverage by French social security. Not as automatic as it sounds though, because your MD or the MD taking care of you in the hospital has to send documents (This is French, everything takes a lot of paper work to do) to the Social security asking for the 100 percent coverage. And then, which is logical, the coverage includes only treatments for and related to the specific illness. They also have to be renewed every number of years (at least for some maladies that can be totally treated). But this is a load of the mind of many patients (I shivered thinking how much my hospitalisation and care would have cost me in the US !). Several ALD illnesses that I know of are cancer/tumor, diabetes, tuberculosis (I thought it does not exist anymore in France, but apparently there are close to 5000 declared cases in 2012 in France !) and HIV (for those séropositive or/and taking treatments). For HIV, the price of antirétroviral médications can be upwards 1000 euros per month! The 100 percent coverage also covers expenses at tarifs as deteremined by Social Security. When you do see a doctor, for instance, the tarifs praticed by the doctors may vary as a function of whether they follow the tarif guidelines of the social security (the cheapest) or they decide freely their tarif (more expensive). For the latter, social security reimburses the sum équivalent to their standard tarif and the rest is out of your pocket or if you have complementary private coverage they will probably reimburse the différence. You also have to, except in rare cases, see your own general practitioner designated as 'medecin traitant' (does not apply to specialists though)
Everyone in France has a health card or Carte Vitale, with an electronic chip like you now find in most crédit and débit cards. This card contains all information about you (DOB, address as well as the médications you’re currently taking or have taken in the past etc.) which means that you probably have to protect it as you would your crédit cards. The advantage of having a 100 percent coverage when I go see my doctor is I just give him my Carte Vitale and the payment would be done directly from the social security to his account (my doctor is a he). Ditto with the médications that I pick up at the pharmacy. The déduction for each use of service is 1 euro.

Friday, March 6, 2015

Alive again

Have not written anything to post in my blog for ages. Not because I have not been writing (though I have not been writing much indeed), but just not for the blog. Many things have happened, including the most significant: a near death experience. I have for the first time got to know French hospitals...I went with the intenstion of staying just a few days to get tests done though ended up spending a good four months in three different Paris hospitals. Nearly died in one (Bichât), started to get well in another (Henri Mondor in Creteil, then back to Bichât) and really started my way back to good health again in Cognacq Jay hospital. I learned a lot about a lot of things: Medical speaks in French, the hospital system in Paris, the health system in France (ok, becoming more familiar at least. It's such a complex system). But most of all, I have realized just how important health is. Nothing matters anymore when you do not have your health. The only thing in your mind is that you want to feel better. You want to continue and other things do not matter anymore. Really gives you a new perspective in life, though unfortunately this seems to fade with increasing health or maybe just with time. But one thing stays...Paris has become more and more my home after all that I had to live through here. I will see if this stays this way. The sick period changes my mind set of 'being in transit' in Paris (or anywhere else for that matter), to a possibiity that this is where I am likely to put down my suitcases. Not forever just yet, but I have arrived, whether at my final destination or not, certainly a destination where my suitcases would be emptied and stored for a while. I will see.