France – Tales and Travel

Rambling along the Riviera

Emmy and Anne came to visit. They are sisters, my cousins whom I have not seen in too many years.

Emmy is a year older than Anne. Anne is 5 days older than I. As children, we saw each other frequently. With time and moves, all that changed. (Thank you, Emmy, for above photo. )

**And cousins now**: Anne, me and Emmy. We celebrated Derby Day with mint juleps.
As a young reporter I worked for the Louisville Courier-Journal and was assigned to cover the elegant Derby “balls.”

Neither cousin had been to my turf in southern France. I wanted to show them my favorites and the must-sees of the area. We were on the move during their week-long visit, rambling along the Riviera.

I asked them to send me impressions, comments, etc. after their return. Continue reading for photo highlights and their comments.

First stop was the old village of Roquebrune, a quick, but steep drive from my abode. Gorgeous views and an ancient olive tree.

We ventured up in the hills on day #2 of their visit, a stop for meditation and reflection at the place where my Bob’s ashes have been dispersed. Husband Bob and I were avid cyclists. He loved challenging climbs. We attacked this road and its numerous hairpin turns many times.

*Pilgrimage chapel along the road between Sospel and Moulinet where I dispersed Bob’s ashes.*

“I loved seeing the remote and serene place where you gave Bob a final resting place. What a beautiful place to commune with nature and to be part of a sacred pilgrimage like so many before us,” Anne said.

We were on the border with Italy. I felt they should have a taste of my preferred country, so we continued up the mountain and returned to the coast via Italy. Bob and I had cycled some – but not all of this terrain. It was a long, long way down.

Anne’s comment: “You complained about the day with the too long drive but that was one of my favorite days. You are a fearless driver! The hairpin turns, the cyclists, the sheer drop offs were terrifying to me but didn’t seem to faze you.” …Driving in the Mediterranean hinterland is not for the faint of heart.

Markets are de rigueur around here. The Saturday morning market in nearby Menton is enticing with clothes (Italian bargains) in addition to tempting produce. Cousins were impressed, and each found a garment souvenir. “The market in Menton was lots of fun,” noted Emmy.

A market of a different sort was also high on their list of favorites. Conad, an Italian supermarket on the border, is like no other, the antithesis of a sanitized, huge, beautiful American supermarket. It’s cluttered, chaotic, always crowded. French love the cheaper prices. I love the prices too, but mostly the crazy ambiance and the Italian products.

Patience and skill required to negotiate the aisles at Conad.

For Anne, this was her “upfront favorite experience… both disorienting and fascinating.” Emmy commented that she was glad she had the experience “in the store with anything and everything one might want. ” Pots and pans, socks and underwear, plants and flowers — all are stuffed in those narrow Conad aisles.

Outstanding art museums are a major attraction on the Riviera, including the Picasso museum in Antibes where I found lots of photo opps.

Miro sculpture on the terrace of the Picasso museum.

But for me the museum piece de resistance is the Fondation Maeght in St. Paul de Vence. On my first trip to the Riviera moons ago, I visited the Fondation. I was overwhelmed then and overjoyed recently with our visit. The art museum on a hill overlooking the medieval town features a superb collection of modern art including large sculptures in gardens and on terraces.

Alexander Calder sculpture in the garden.

Since we were in the area, we stopped to visit the Matisse chapel in nearby Vence. A nun inspired the artist to create the chapel whose vibrant colors are dazzling.

Emmy summed up her take on the trip: ” I loved each and every excursion. Was especially intrigued by Dolceacqua with its historic bridge and unique and ancient tunnel structure leading up to the castle. Loved the trip to Eze with its beautiful gardens perched on the hilltop.”

*Dolceaqua with its castle and ancient bridge*

Food is a travel highlight. My dear cousins are easy to please and liked everything. We avoided expensive eateries. Sitting outdoors at a Vence resto, Anne ordered coffee as her lunch beverage. I explained that in France coffee is a breakfast drink, definitely not ordered as liquid refreshment with a noon or evening meal. However, after the meal, a “petit ” espresso is in order. It was all in fun. One can drink whatever whenever, but I thought they should learn a bit about the local customs.

“One of my favorite moments was when I ordered coffee at lunch and you gave me a startled look and told me that was a gauche thing to do. Or perhaps I am gauche, your country bumpkin, too-American cousin! That struck me as so amusing, so familial in a way,” she recalled. BTW: Anne is delightful, definitely not gauche.

Because we were on the move, I did not prepare at- home dinners, except for their arrival, my all-time favorite, Shakshuka. Click for the recipe. I had made a rum carrot cake in advance of their arrival. We had a slice every day — too much and it wore thin (but not on the waistline). We never did finish it.

It was heartwarming, fun and gratifying to reunite with my cousins. A few months ago my nephew visited – his first time in Europe. We had a “blast.” Read about that adventure: Intro to Europe 101.

I hope all my kin will come back. And, so does Simba who bonded with Emmy.

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Paris: A cathedral, couture – and cows

Notre Dame. We had to see it. Who doesn’t remember TV images of flames ripping through the glorious landmark cathedral five years ago?

That was then. Today. Wow! Considering the monumental damage from those flames and smoke, the interior is no less than miraculous. It’s vibrant. It dazzles. It’s lofty, light and inspiring.

Friend Karen and I followed the line of visitors moving slowly through the nave. We, and others, stopped to admire minute details which have been meticulously restored. We stopped for photos. And we stopped and stood and gazed, overpowered by the majesty of all.

We visited Paris in February. The weather was not pleasant (mainly gray and cold), nor was this the best time for special exhibitions at museums. One exhibit did receive lots of publicity: “Louvre Couture.” We went for it, but were somewhat underwhelmed. Enormous, imposing rooms where enormous ancient tapestries hang provide a backdrop for fashions dating from 1961 to the present.

It was impressive, as is the Louvre. But, where were all the rooms with gorgeous furniture and fashion featured in publicity photos? We backtracked, looking for doors, passages to other sections. No luck. We were no doubt lost in the Louvre and perhaps missed the best part, but we felt we had seen plenty of fashion.

There was more fashion of sorts at a Quai Branly Museum exhibit, “Golden Thread, the Art of Dressing from North Africa and the Far East.” Shimmering golden gowns by Chinese designer Guo Pei are over the top

I love this museum which offers a journey through the arts and civilizations of Asia, Africa, Oceania and the Americans. It’s fun and fascinating.

More at Branly: Indian costume, Mardi Gras New Orleans

“You don’t go to Paris to see cows,” a friend remarked. We did, and my mistake. The International Salon d’Agriculture was on in the French capital. Years ago, friends went and raved about it. Besides, I love animals – maybe more than fashion.

It was a long, too long, Uber ride. The “salon”was mammoth – pavilion after pavilion. We zeroed in on animals – the most popular and crowded pavilion. We did see some interesting species but probably not the best use of our limited time in Paris.

We enjoyed a more worthwhile visit to the Centre Pompidou for the Suzanne Valadon (1865-1938) retrospective. Valadon was a notable female artist whose works are bold in color, blending realism and expressionism. She focused on women, depicting them in everyday life.

More fashion at the Dior Gallery. And, more art at L’Atelier des Lumieres. A 19^th century iron foundry has been converted into a high-tech exhibition center where the works of famous artists are projected on the walls, floor and ceiling. Visitors sit on benches, on the floor, enveloped and mesmerized by the ever-changing art scene. We were surrounded by masterpieces of Picasso and Henri Rousseau – a delightful and dynamic experience.

This was my first visit back to my favorite city in six years. Back then I had normal mobility. Sadly, due to a horrendous fall, I now have “limited mobility.” I limp and walk with a cane, but it could be worse. This trip was a test. Can I travel as a cripple?

I can walk , do steps and cobblestones – slowly. Karen, an avid and fast walker, patiently put up with me. Previously the Metro was the preferred way of transportation in Paris, but I was fearful. No one moves slowly in the metro. Too risky. I would be mowed down. We traveled by Uber – also slow due to Paris traffic, but comfortable and interesting.

We traveled in Toyotas (many) as well a Mercedes, even a luxurious Lexus with soothing music and complimentary water. Fortunately, no Tesla. The drivers came from around the globe: Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria, Togo, Guadeloupe, Guinea, Haiti, Brazil, Cameroon and Ethiopia.

The journalist in me emerged. I probably asked too many questions, but was curious to learn about their backgrounds. All seemed happy to oblige. Selam from Ethiopia formerly had a travel agency in his country. Ever since reading a friend’s account of a trip to Ethiopia, I have longed to visit. Selam may help me plan a trip.

I conquered Paris without a fall. I passed the test. I can travel with limited mobility, but it’s comforting to be with a friend. Thank you, Karen.

The legendary restaurant Bofinger is next door to the hotel where we stayed (see below). Noted for seafood and Alsatian specialities. The only mishap of the trip was the oyster I ate there on our last night. It did me in, wiped me out for a week, but fortunately not until I was home.

IF YOU GO . . .

Paris is popular year-round. Even in dreary February we found lines everywhere. For attractions and exhibitions, book tickets online in advance, a must. Even then, expect to wait in line.

It was drizzling the morning we visited Notre Dame. We waited outdoors in line about 20 minutes, but the long line was constantly advancing. This may not be the case as the weather warms and the crowds grow. There is no charge to visit the cathedral. You can book an entry time slot on line. See web site, http://www.notredamedeparis.fr

Our hotel was about a two- minute walk from Place de Bastille.

We loved our hotel, the Bastille Speria, a small 3* hotel just minutes from the Place de la Bastille and the Bastille metro stop. Close to the Marais and Place des Vosges. Friendly, helpful staff. Clean, attractive rooms. Ample buffet breakfast, (eggs, fruit, yogurt, cheese, meats and more) included in the price. Free copy of the NYT in the mini lounge.

Hotel-bastille-speria.com or info@hotelsperia7.com

Karen(right) and I at Carette, Place des Vosges, a restaurant where I met a friend from Stars and Stripes days, Len Hill, and his partner Claudine. Good times — and delicious scrambled eggs, the restaurant speciality.

Photo of Notre Dame exterior courtesy of Adrienn on http://www.pexels.com

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TODAY’S TASTE – Broccoli Salad

Broccoli is a winner in the healthy veg category. It’s rich in vitamins C and K and other nutrients. But — the best bonus is a phytochemical, sulforaphane, known as one of the most powerful anticarcinogens found in food.

Click on the picture for the recipe – and learn more about this amazing vegetable.
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13 responses to “Paris: A cathedral, couture – and cows”

leahlarkin

March 19, 2025

Stay tuned for more more recipes.

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Erika

March 16, 2025

It’s so amazing that you did that adventure, I’m proud of you. Did you take this pictures with your phone? They are so beautiful. Thanks for sharing

Erika

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1. leahlarkin
  
  March 16, 2025
  
  It was so good to be back in Paris. Even in cold, gray winter, it was a joy. iphone fotos. Thanks for the compliment.
  
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Karen

March 16, 2025

Don’t forget, Leah…….As we discovered, because you are handicapped, we could use the priority lanes at all the exhibitions. Which meant, no long lines for you, and as I was your accompagnante, I also got to get in first, and even in some cases, free. Also, your press card helped. So, yes, I did travel a little more slowly than usual, but there were advantages to being with you. And, we had a good time, despite the weather.

Lovely blog of an interesting and fun trip.

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1. leahlarkin
  
  March 16, 2025
  
  We deserved the advantages. It was a plus to Jump the lines for sure. I am so glad we made the trip. Thanks for being my “accompagnante. »
  
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charettehood

March 16, 2025

so happy to hear that you are a travelling cripple!! Ha

Sue

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1. leahlarkin
  
  March 16, 2025
  
  Better to travel as a cripple than not travel.
  
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Ortrud Hundertmark

March 16, 2025

Hallo Leah ich habe,wie immer, deinen Reisebericht mit großer Freude gelesen. Deine Berichte sind immer sehr aufschlussreich präzise und spannend zu lesen.

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1. leahlarkin
  
  March 16, 2025
  
  Vielen Dank Liebe Ortrud. Hat Mich gefreut von dir zu hoeren. Paris hat Spass gemacht. Gruesse an Kurt.
  
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Meg Downie

March 16, 2025

A great read Leah. I’m itching to get back to France.

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1. leahlarkin
  
  March 16, 2025
  
  Thank you, Meg. Come and see me.
  
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mkratage

March 15, 2025

It’s great to see you traveling again, Leah, even if at a slower pace. Notre Dame looks fantastic. Your photos are always beautiful and explanations interesting. Marian

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1. leahlarkin
  
  March 16, 2025
  
  I was very happy to conquer Paris at a slow pace. It was a good trip, and Notre Dame is a sensation. Thanks for the comment, Marian.
  
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Intro to Europe 101

“It’s a blast.” He was enthusiastic, curious, at times in awe, and termed almost everything a “blast.” It was so much fun and gratifying to be with him, a blast for me too.

That’s my nephew, David Koester, who visited me recently, his first time to Europe.

David and Leah — *Nephew David and Aunt Leah*

“It was an eye-opening experience. I’ve never experienced another culture before,” David told me during a recent phone conversation. “I’ve been raving about the trip ever since I got back.”

David, 39, is an account executive with Logicalis, an IT consulting firm. He lives with his wife Sabrina and 8-year-old son Jonah in Louisville, Ky.

His buddy Matt had a business trip to Berlin. They decided to meet in Switzerland for a few days. He visited me in southern France prior to the Swiss rendezvous.

*We had lunch here before David explored the old chateau in the Vieux Village of Roquebrune Cap Martin*

His visit here was short, three days. We were on the move. First stop the Vieux Village (old village) of Roquebune Cap Martin. I live in the “new town.”

After an outdoor lunch in the town plaza, David explored, up to the old chateau, then up and down the skinny pedestrian alleys. Since I am now walking with a cane, I stayed back. “It’s so cool walking through these alleys, seeing the old architecture,” he remarked.

A favorite spot in the old village is the viewpoint overlooking Monaco. Another day, a very rainy day, we ventured to the principality and opted for the hop-on, hop-off bus which gives a good overview of Monaco.

David, who is a financial wizard, informed me that Monaco’s Formula One makes more money than any other sporting event. “It was cool driving over the starting line,” he said.

Roquebrune Cap Martin is adjacent to Menton, a Riviera town on the border with Italy. It too has an old town, a maze of twisty alleys, as well as the imposing basilica of Saint Michael. David visited all, as well as the city’s market, my favorite.

*David was impressed with Menton’s market hall. This is my bread stand where we bought some tasty goodies.*

We crossed the border for an Italian snack at Grotta. I love to stop there – Italian ambience, reasonable food and an enticing setting just above the coast.

Another must is nearby Sainte Agnes, a medieval village classified as “one of the most beautiful villages in France.” Reaching the burg, said to be the highest coastal village in France at an altitude of 760 meters (2,493 feet), is not for the faint of heart. Follow a treacherous, narrow mountain road — lots of hairpin turns and places where there is room for only one car. Someone may need to reverse. Fortunately, David was behind the wheel.

He drove my Suzuki Swift. I was still recovering from the San Francisco broken wrist (see previous post, “I lost my money in San Francisco”) and could not yet drive.

He found driving in southern France “wild.” He summed it up: “There are mopeds everywhere. Everything is very tight. You’ve got to be on our toes all the time…you need to be aggressive out there.” He did enjoy my humble car. “I haven’t driven stick shift in ages,” he said. “It was fun.”

The views from Sainte Agnes are worth the trip. David trekked up a steep path to investigate the ruins of a chateau.

*A steep path leads to the ruins of a 12th century chateau above Sainte Agnes*

*A medieval garden and cemetery are part of the chateau site.*

Lunch was a treat, a multi course meal at a popular, rustic, local restaurant: pork pate, followed by ravioli, and a main course of either wild boar stew or rabbit, all topped off with a slice of blueberry pie. He ordered rabbit. I went for the wild boar. We shared.

For David, food in France is “phenomenal, awesome.” He was impressed with the taste and presentation, and said it was much healthier than food in the U.S.

The plan was to leave Sainte Agnes and continue up the mountain to Col de la Madonne, a mountain pass my super cyclist friend Bridget had raved about. The route is popular with serious riders on two wheels.

We had three choices after leaving the village: a road down to where we had come from, another with a sign to the town of Peille, and a third unmarked. GPS was no help. We took the road less traveled – and too much adventure awaited.

*No one has lived here recently — the only house we saw on our adventure into the hinterlands.*

On and on we drove. Nothing. No signs. Few other cars. No civilization. The road deteriorated. Dirt. Bumps. Pot holes. Where were we? We charged on until we came to a fork with a gate /barrier blocking the road on the right. Yet, according to David’s GPS (now working), we should take that road. He got out and opened the gate.

I was nervous. This can’t be right. What if we get stuck? We are alone in the boondocks.

But on we went, deeper into nowhere. To my relief, my chauffeur decided to turn back and take the other road. There was little improvement, but it had to lead us out of this isolated back country.

*Peille is another remote medieval village tucked in the mountains.*

Hope: A sign to Peille, the town we had rejected when leaving Sainte Agnes. We gleefully took it, and realized we were retracing much of the territory we had just covered. ?? This road was not much better than the others and nightfall was coming. But, we were en route to civilization.

Peille is old and picturesque, a cluster of stone buildings below the main road where we parked and then headed downhill to check it out. Nothing was open except a funky, bar café. Perfect. We loved the cozy ambience, the local vibe, and the well-earned beer.

*Downtown Peille: old stone houses, vaulted passageways.*

David was good natured about this fiasco. He was a joy to be with – never complained and was thrilled with all. Mea Culpa. I will not subject future visitors to the search for the Col de la Madonne.

David continued to Switzerland where he spent a few days in the Grindelwald-Lucerne area with Matt. He called the country “the most beautiful place I have ever been to.” However, he found it very expensive.

*The boys in Switzerland. Matt and David*.

In an email after returning home, David wrote the following:

“I had such a great trip. I think about it all the time. It was so great to see you. I’m so excited to come back. I can understand why you made the life decisions you did. Seeing the world is so much fun. We are going to plan a family trip to Europe.”

I hope they will visit me. I can’t wait. I know it will be a blast.

ALL PHOTOS ABOVE BY DAVID KOESTER

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MORE PHOTOS BY DAVID BELOW

*David followed the coastal Corbusier trail near my apartment. The scenery is spectacular.*

*We split this veggie entree at a Menton restaurant. David found food here healthier than that in the U.S.*

*Chateau in the old village of Roquebrune Cap Marti*n

Hotel California II

For background, see previous post « Hotel California „

Improvement. Madame Cadre ( MC, big boss) was true to her word when she promised me a « nice surprise » after the obligatory 3-week waiting period at this rundown rehabilitation center. My original room had neither toilet nor shower. The surprise: a « luxurious « room with both. And, I still have access to the broken balcony with the spectacular view.

View of Golfe-Juan on the Mediterranean from the balcony

The physical therapy staff also granted me an upgrade: an electric wheelchair to replace the hand operated one I had been given. It was huge, intimidating, shabby, old – not like the smaller versions most residents had. « It’s very easy. Just like driving a car , » I was told.

Not for me. The monster took off like a missile, reminding me of those bumper cars at amusement parks. I hated them. I frequently got stuck, a perfect target for others to crash into. No one crashed into my wheelchair, but I had three collisions into walls. Major collisions. My broken leg took the hit. I was nervous. I can do this, I told myself, and concentrated on mastering the speed controls. Too late. The powers that be took it away from me. I was delighted.

Hotel California, properly known as Helio Marin, is rehabilitation facility in Vallauris, France, specializing in the treatment of amputees and those with serious, multiple injuries.

After my third surgery for a complicated break of the femur (first repair broke after six months) and a semi-paralyzed arm resulting from a failed reverse shoulder replacement of a broken shoulder, this was said to be the best place for my recovery.

Picnic at Helio Marin with my faithful visitors: Jo, Sir Dickens, Angi and Erika

I soon learned that my injuries were minor compared to others. Many much younger residents are recovering from ski, bicycle, surfboard, car and motorcycle accidents.

Horrendous accidents.

Emmanuel, 40s, crashed his bicycle into a car. He broke his spine, tibia, ankle and hip. „I had six surgeries within 10 days,“ he told me. One surgery lasted seven hours.

The serious cyclist, who has ridden as many as 250 kilometers in one day, likes to ride the challenging costal mountain terrain in this region. He has been at Helio Marin since December, but is beginning to walk and will go home soon. He looks forward to getting back on his bike.

Aladdin, 26 , races around in his electric wheelchair as if training for a wheelchair Formula I. He had taken leave from his job at the tech company Amadeus to visit „ 26 countries“ by car. He was celebrating super success. On weekends he worked as a salesman in Monaco for a „ super yacht“ company. (Starting price $15 million). He had made a sale.

While driving in rural Greece, he hit a pig. The airbags inflated. He lost control and slammed into a wall. He broke his spine and spent six weeks in an Athens hospital only able to move his eyes up and down, back and forth, to indicate yes and no.

He remains positive, always smiling, chatting with others. He likes Snickers bars, and offered me one. Another time he presented me with his French fries from a delivery order. A welcome treat. No fries served here. Aladdin is an inspiration.

Tahar is a retired gardener originally from Tunisia. He said he is the only amputee here who lost a leg in an accident. The others are victims of diabetes. He lives in Grasse, the perfume capital of France, and was using a rotary tiller to tend the roses for the upscale cosmetics firm, Lancôme. His foot slipped into a hole and his leg got caught in the blades. Like Aladdin, he has a warm and welcoming smile. He was eager to tell me about his various gardening jobs, which he obviously loved. No self-pity, but he did say learning to walk with a prothestic leg is very difficult.

Patrick, 43, broke his spine in a whooper motorcycle accident. I often see him sitting outdoors in the sun after lunch. He told me about his accident and said he was not expected to live. In addition to losing feeling and movement in his legs, an arm is damaged and the accident has affected his voice. He is originally from Iceland, but lives in Menton with his partner and four-year-old daughter. A doctor told him he would not walk again which infuriated him. „How dare he ruin my hopes.“ He intends to seek other opinions.

Gerard, 19, broke both femurs attempting a ski jump. He fell, and the skis landed straight up, tails in the snow. The bindings did not release. Like me, he has had femur surgery and rods have been inserted to stabilize both legs.

Jean Michel, early 40s, was whacked in the neck with his surfboard. He was immobile. „I could have drowned.“ His buddies saved him as well as emergency surgery for a compressed spine. „I was very lucky,“ he said.

Of course there are many older patients like me, victims of falls.

In the late 19th century heliomarine sanitoriums were established to treat tuberculosis patients. They were near the sea to profit from the sun‘s rays and sea air. Those remaining, like Helio Marin in Vallauris, are now rehabilitation facilities.

The stepped concrete structure of Helio Marin was designed by architect Pierre Souzy and completed in 1937. It is unique and had to be considered avant garde almost 100 years go.

Unfortunately the building has been sadly neglected. There was talk of tearing it down and building a luxury hotel. The site is spectacular. However, due to its age the building is a protected structure and can only be used for medical purposes.

I had to wonder if that old electric wheelchair they gave me had been rescued from the dusty recesses of the attic. Nevermind, as one on line reviewer wrote:

„In spite of the delapidation, the care and staff are good, and that‘s the most important. „

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With visitors Ralph and Gayle. They brought me balloons and a rose.

Hotel California

Welcome to the Hotel California, but it’s a hospital, not a hotel. Nonetheless I instantly thought of that Eagles hit song from 1977 when I entered this bizarre place.

„This could be heaven or this could be hell“

…And she showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor

Thought I heard them say

…”And I was thinkin to myself

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place. Such a lovely place.“

My room: Old, shabby, paint chipped walls, a big hole in the ceiling. Ahh— but the view from the 4th floor balcony is splendid with the Mediterranean Golfe-Juan in one direction, and the Bay of Cannes in the other. “A postcard view,” as a visitor said.

I am here for therapy following my third femur surgery since my great fall last June (see a previous post, My Sorry Story). Helio Marin, this facility, has a sterling reputation as a rehabilitation center, although as I looked around that seemed hard to fanthom. I was seduced by the view and figured I could tolerate the depressing room — until I pulled back the plastic curtain and glanced into the minuscule bathroom. NO TOILET.

I completely freaked out. “ There is no toilet in the bathroom,“ I shouted to the aide who had led me to my new home. That is true, she said, but there is a toilet down the hall. What? This is 2024 and the rooms do not have toilets. I was incredulous, thinking back to student days traveling with “Europe on $5 day.” That was then — some 60 years ago. I am old, too old for down-the-hall bathroom treks.

“I cannot stay here.“ I was upset, angry, bewildered. “ I will call the „Cadre“ (big boss),“ the aide said. Madame Cadre (MC) appeared. Medium length, straight dark red hair. Glasses. Stern demeanor. No welcome smile, but a piercing stare meant to instill fear.

I was adamant. I insisted that I needed a room with a toilet, that I could not make the trips down the hall. “Why not? You can walk.“

“Lady, I am in a wheelchair. I can’t walk. That’s why I am here.”

She stated that this was the only room available. Take it or leave it, but she could put me on the waiting list for a better room with toilet.

I was frantic. I called the hospital where I had the recent surgery. They had arranged for me to come here. Please find me a room somewhere else, I pleaded. The woman in social services insisted this was the best place for my recuperation. Just be patient. You will get a better room, she said. The other facility she had recommended had no rooms.

I was stuck. It was either stay here or go home. I knew I was in no condition to go home and take care of myself.

I did not unpack, hoping I would have a better room in a few days. I gazed into the bathroom one more time. No shower either. That too is down the hall. Nothing to do but retreat to the balcony and let the view soothe my troubled soul.

Not for long. MC returned. “What are you doing out there? It’s dangerous, forbidden,“ she screamed. „Get in here.“ I dutifully wheeled myself back inside. This was too much, like a bad dream.

I later learned the balcony, a wide structure with the rooms opening onto it, is like everything here: Old. It is wooden, rotting and in danger of collapse. You can tread lightly at your own risk, but only on the initial portion. The area near near the edge is off limits. When MC departed, I disobeyed and ventured to the edge, the best place for photos. I was not the only one.

The next day I wanted to take a shower and wash my hair, yet there was a problem. I had neither towel nor wash cloth. You are expected to bring your own. How was I to know? During previous hospital experiences, they had been provided. Someone scrounged up a towel for me. I asked an aide if I could have a disposable wash cloth. I know they come in packages of 100. Hospitals use them.

„I have to ask the Cadre“ he replied. Madame’s answer: NO! I was not entitled to a disposable wash cloth. I obviously had not endeared myself to MC. I would be punished.

Originally a plaque supported my broken femur. It too broke and has been replaced by a rod.

According to the Helio Marin welcome brochure, for a fee you can have laundry service. I asked my friendly morning nurse team about it. They only knew of a washing machine and dryer for the use of patients. But, they would ask the Cadre. I told them not to bother, that she did not like me.

“Don’t worry. She does not like anyone.”

Bottom line. Brochure lied. There is no laundry service. The washer and dryer only work with payment by credit card. When I checked in, I had been advised to leave valuables (cash, jewelry, credit cards ) with the office for safe keeping. I did.

Now I had to go back and sign out a credit card to do my laundry. What about detergent?

You can buy it at “Snack”, I was told. Wrong. Snack has no detergent for sale. My dirty clothes had to wait for my friend Karen to bring me detergent.