The saga of Monday August 19, 2024 in Paris, France
It was our first day in Paris. Hooray! Nope. Shai woke up feeling nauseous, again. He also showed me some bites that he said were really itchy. I noted Matanel had one on his chest when he woke up. They were not like anything I had seen before, so I did what any sister of a pediatrician would do. I took a picture of them and sent them to my sister, Dr. Shira, to await her diagnosis. Then, I applied hydrocortisone. My sister is the best pediatrician there is and very honest. Her initial response: “Not sure what to make of the rash yet. Let’s watch for now.” To which I responded, “K. Hoping it’s just some weird Parisian bug bites.” And then, BOOM! She dropped the bomb, “and not bedbugs.”
The possibility of bedbugs had to wait. I was not going to freak out about something I didn’t know for certain. Before I could go down a bedbug rabbi hole, Shai threw up bringing me back to his more immediate need for some kind of stomach relief and a cure for what was likely a really bad case of constipation. It was imperative that we get on top of his stomach situation so that he could join in all of our adventures and, more importantly, feel like himself again!
A few hours later he began feeling better, which was good because we had no food in the flat and were becoming hangry. Shai thought he was up for walking to a park and café. Thankfully, we were across the street from both. While there, I texted Chaim to see if he could come home early to stay with Shai while I took the other boys out to explore. As Chaim headed home, we stopped at a market to buy fruit, vegetables, bread, pasta, and some tunafish.
After a quick lunch and dropping off Shai at home, I took the other boys out with the objective of getting to the artist village of Montmarte by bus. Bus, because it was a way of seeing parts of Paris we might not have time to visit. I led them to the bus station and there we sat and sat, and sat waiting for our bus to come. There was a small sign that said it was not coming. This time I understood. We were in need of help because Google Maps kept trying to have us take a bus that wasn’t coming. I stopped a nearby stranger to ask where we could pick up another bus to get to Montmarte. He didn’t speak much English but said to follow him. I was grateful for his help and weary that we might be heading somewhere we didn't want to be.
While Amichai, Eitan, and I walked several paces behind our new guide, Matanel skipped ahead of his brothers and me. I kept trying to call him back without sounding rude. On the one hand, we have always taught our boys to be kind to strangers and to not assume the worst. On the other hand, we were in a foreign land with a foreign language that we could not understand and no knowledge of the area around us. Trying to explain the delicate balance between trust and skepticism to all four boys proved challenging. The older boys weren’t sure of what to make of this experience.
After several minutes walking in a direction that felt wrong for no explicable reason, I stopped our guide to ask him if he was taking us to another bus stop. At that very moment another stranger with a child was walking toward us. Our guide paused to ask this newcomer what he thought. The newcomer pointed us in a different direction. We used the Google Translate app to communicate and the boys and I were able to continue walking the rest of the way on our own to a different bus stop with a bus that finally did come.
Throughout this uncomfortable situation, the boys asked if we could just turn around and go back home. I refused. I could have easily given in. Part of me wanted to because I was tired and feeling dejected. However, I also wanted them to know that it’s okay to not always know where we are heading and that exploring the area around us is just as valuable as getting to a particular destination.
Finally, we made it to Montmarte. We saw the Moulin Rouge, the Art Village, and Sacré-Cœur. The boys thoroughly enjoyed walking through the artist’s village and seeing all of the different art media used. They especially enjoyed the cartoonists. The views were stunning. Inside Sacré-Cœur they were overwhelmed by the size of the cathedral, sculptures, and number of times Jesus was depicted on the cross. This was so outside of their world frame and so different from their experience at synagogues where we are forbidden to have images of people in the sanctuary. They had had a small taste of this when we took a quick peek inside St. Paul's Cathedral, but weren’t sure what to make of it once confronted with the enormity of the statues and mosaics inside Sacré-Cœur. We picked up our conversation about appropriate decorum, the differences and similarities between Christianity and Judaism, and how to appreciate others’ ways of worship without losing your own religious identity. Big thoughts for small people that no doubt will follow us around the world. We returned home with less bus excitement, stopping along the way at a pharmacy for Shai and at several markets so that I could buy more food items for our flat.
Paris is one hour ahead of England. Chaim and I tried to get the boys into bed early, but it was midnight before everyone fell asleep. As we went to bed, I wondered aloud when our boys would eventually adjust to the new time zone. Silently, I was hoping Shai would feel better and that we would avoid a real encounter with bedbugs.
