I had 9 dates with this sweet boy in London. Story below after the financial news
As of today we've been in France for six weeks. (Except for Scott, who only gets a five week pin since he's in the US this week.) I've had a few questions about the status of our bank account from amused friends and more importantly, from our ever-tolerant landlady.
We sent in the requested documents as soon as we could get them. They included proof that our social security #s ARE our social security #s, proof that our landlady owned the house we are renting, proof we were living in the house, and proof that we paid US taxes.
My brother Mike sent me an article that explained that this is not actually France's fault. The US is trying to crack down on money hidden from taxes overseas, and somehow they have managed to make sure French banks get massive fines if they accidentally get involved in such an account.
The other Fulbright scholar in Lille, who has been here since Christmas, told Scott that after waiting months to receive a bank card, he and his wife messed up their pin numbers when trying to use their debit card. They had a little trouble communicating their problem and watched in horror while the bank teller took their precious debit card, grabbed a scissors, and chopped it up into petite pieces.
Anyway, long story long, Scott checked back in with our banker, "Madame D" before he left for the states and received an auto-message that she was on vacation for a week. Sigh. So, after another very polite plea from our landlady, I wrote Madame D. this week, and she replied "I need a justification of the insurance of your rental house."
Now, the nice thing is, I actually have this! In France, if you rent, you must take out insurance to cover fire risks etc of the house, because the owner's insurance won't cover it. After having only one door slammed in my face (OK it was more of a "non, ce n'est pas possible" than a shut door) I was able to obtain buy a policy a few weeks ago, so I have sent a copy of same to Mme. D. on Wednesday. I anxiously await her reply. Meanwhile I have a rendez-vous with our landlady this weekend, at a time and place I will not disclose, to hand her yet another thick envelope.
London Trip
I had hoped to carefully document here our trip to London but I mostly have pictures of Amelia asleep and Bobby's infected toe. We had one day of fun on Sunday and saw Westminster, Big Ben and the rode the London Eye.
That night, Amelia came down with a horrible case of strep. She did not eat or drink (except a few sips of water and some advil I forced down her) or SPEAK for 3 full days. Once we were back in France I figured out how to google pediatrician (On google.fr you have to do it in French and i was trying "clinic" and other" doc n the box" synonyms). Anyway, within hours of her first antibiotic dose (or "dog poo" as she describes it) she was asking for soup!
Thank you to Alexander Fleming, and to the nice, non-English speaking doctor's office who did not hang up on me, and gave me a same day appointment. And to the nice doctor who brought us into her office without waiting, mixed the instant strep test herself, in front of me, and took my cash payment and gave me change from her purse! And yelled at me very sweetly en francais, reminding me that Amelia was not allowed to refuse advil, I was her mother and I would make her take it.
I had been very, very stressed about finding an office that would take our insurance and was so glad I didn't bother. The cost was 37 euro ...about 40 dollars. The antibiotic and advil were a total of 8 euro more. (I will do a blog entry soon on "Almost everything is WAY cheaper here")
Anyway back to London. We were staying in a nice family hotel right across from a mall with a pharmacy, and several great family restaurants. Bobby and I ate out three meals a day and read Horrible Histories aloud to each other. He had a fine time since I allowed him screen time ALL DAY LONG for 2 1/2 days. We all were very sad to miss the Tower of London tour and our theatre tix to the Railway Children. (Note to self, don't book ahead next time!)
Look where our London bus was headed!
Our happy time near Big Ben and on the London Eye before streptoccal bacteria raised their ugly tails (or whatever they have)
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