We had hoped that Obama's healthcare reform would help us with our health insurance needs. Every year, the premium goes up and the coverage decreases. It's now to the point where we might be better off having only the most catastrophic coverage since we spend more in premiums than we ever incur in actual medical costs. This is combined with the need to have a second policy for France. Our US policies don't cover us outside the US.
We've been buying French insurance for a few years that covers the essentials for our trips. We've actually had to use it once, but, again, the premium costs exceed any medical costs that we've incurred.
So, I'm in the process of looking at the whole thing from a different point of view. Knowing that we need insurance in both places doesn't mean that we have to continue doing the same old thing. I'm investigating worldwide coverage through the insurer who has done our travel health in the past.
This is a lot of work, though. Analyzing co-pays, maximum lifetimes, exclusions, pre-existing conditions...It's all so complicated.
This has been on my desk for almost two weeks and I"m almost ready to take the step toward paying much less money to Anthem. I'll still be covered, but only for a REAL illness, not the everyday visit to the doctor for a sore throat. Typically I don't go to the doctor for that anyway. We'll see.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
The Getaway
We did not have a smooth getaway yesterday. As usual, the unexpected happened. Again and again. I didn't breathe a sign of relief until we locked the front door last night.
It all started first thing. When we called for a cab, we were told that none were available between 7 AM and 10 AM. Hmmm. They would book our reservation but nothing was guaranteed. Having no other way to the airport, we decided to take our chances.
Our bags were packed and we headed out the door about 30 minutes early, leaving in plenty of time. When we pushed the button for the elevator (lots of heavy bags), nothing happened. The elevator is fairly new, maybe five years old and it has never been broken. But, it wasn't coming. Terry rushed up the stairs to find our guardienne, Maria, huddled on the floor of the elevator. It is glass so he could see her. She said that she'd been stuck for over an hour between floors. Yikes! So, we dashed down the stairs and started pulling the suitcases down, one at a time.
As we got outside with the first load, we saw the elevator repairman going up the stairs. He said he'd have it fixed quickly. Sure enough, in five minutes, Maria came running down the stairs, mumbling in Portuguese but smiling. Crisis solved.
So, I jumped in the elevator with one suitcase, pused the "0" buttom, the elevator started to go down, then with a clang, it stopped between floors.
One more detail, at 9 AM, it was already about 90 degrees and humid.
I yelled at the repairman who yelled back not to get in the elevator, it's not fixed. DAH! I said I was stuck. Eventually, the elevator started to move up. It stopped on the 5th floor and the elevator repair guy started to yell at me, but I grabbed the suitcase, now having to pull it down five flights of stairs.
We got all the bags onto the sidewalk. We have a one-lane, one-way street. Just then, a huge truck pulled in front of our building and stopped, put on his blinkers and the driver jumped out. Terry went and yelled at him to move the truck, as did a guardienne from another building. He wasn't moving it. Now the cab can't/won't get down the street to us.
Panic averted as the cab came, put our stuff in the car, the truck moved and we were off.
The autoroute was a mess and it took more than an hour to get to the airport. We got there, found the line to check in and it was about 100 people long. We waited, no movement. There were two people working behind the counter, there were loads of people, wheelchairs, luggage. Everyone is going somewhere. Or nowhere.
We changed lines, thinking we'd found a better one, but no luck, two workers, big problems. We eventually got through it, got to security. We'd left three hours at the airport and now we had one hour left before our flight left. I put all my stuff into the plastic bins, went through without a beep but then a woman looking at the stuff in the machine told me to send my bag through again. I started to take it back and a guy barred my way. One woman told me to stay, the other one told me I hadn't passed. We went back and forth about four or five times before they finally let me take the bag back, take more things out of it and then pass through again. I must look suspicious (probably because I was so sweaty from all the commotion) because then they really searched me thoroughly.
We passed, hit the terminal. Inside, it was about 100 degrees, but our flight would be leaving soon. We thought.
The plane was supposed to board at 12:45 but at 12:40 they said that there was a delay, it would board at 1 PM. This went on, in 15 minute increments for two hours. In the heat for two hours, waiting for the plane to board. Luckily we'd grabbed a snack because the 1:30 flight didn't take off until almost 4 PM.
In the air, our luck of the day was consistent. A woman with three children sat one row away. The entire flight, they all yelled at each other, trashed the entire area and the baby cried.
We got all our suitcases, so that's a relief, but the Immigration Officer flagged our Customs Declaration with a BIG BLUE "A". We didn't know what that meant, but it means "agriculture". We'd need to have our bags checked for contraband food. This last drama of the day involved the only nice person along the way. He kiddingly told us that if we had any contraband from France (the usual pate, cheese, etc) we should dump it now. We didn't, our bags passed and we were free from this horrible day.
It all started first thing. When we called for a cab, we were told that none were available between 7 AM and 10 AM. Hmmm. They would book our reservation but nothing was guaranteed. Having no other way to the airport, we decided to take our chances.
Our bags were packed and we headed out the door about 30 minutes early, leaving in plenty of time. When we pushed the button for the elevator (lots of heavy bags), nothing happened. The elevator is fairly new, maybe five years old and it has never been broken. But, it wasn't coming. Terry rushed up the stairs to find our guardienne, Maria, huddled on the floor of the elevator. It is glass so he could see her. She said that she'd been stuck for over an hour between floors. Yikes! So, we dashed down the stairs and started pulling the suitcases down, one at a time.
As we got outside with the first load, we saw the elevator repairman going up the stairs. He said he'd have it fixed quickly. Sure enough, in five minutes, Maria came running down the stairs, mumbling in Portuguese but smiling. Crisis solved.
So, I jumped in the elevator with one suitcase, pused the "0" buttom, the elevator started to go down, then with a clang, it stopped between floors.
One more detail, at 9 AM, it was already about 90 degrees and humid.
I yelled at the repairman who yelled back not to get in the elevator, it's not fixed. DAH! I said I was stuck. Eventually, the elevator started to move up. It stopped on the 5th floor and the elevator repair guy started to yell at me, but I grabbed the suitcase, now having to pull it down five flights of stairs.
We got all the bags onto the sidewalk. We have a one-lane, one-way street. Just then, a huge truck pulled in front of our building and stopped, put on his blinkers and the driver jumped out. Terry went and yelled at him to move the truck, as did a guardienne from another building. He wasn't moving it. Now the cab can't/won't get down the street to us.
Panic averted as the cab came, put our stuff in the car, the truck moved and we were off.
The autoroute was a mess and it took more than an hour to get to the airport. We got there, found the line to check in and it was about 100 people long. We waited, no movement. There were two people working behind the counter, there were loads of people, wheelchairs, luggage. Everyone is going somewhere. Or nowhere.
We changed lines, thinking we'd found a better one, but no luck, two workers, big problems. We eventually got through it, got to security. We'd left three hours at the airport and now we had one hour left before our flight left. I put all my stuff into the plastic bins, went through without a beep but then a woman looking at the stuff in the machine told me to send my bag through again. I started to take it back and a guy barred my way. One woman told me to stay, the other one told me I hadn't passed. We went back and forth about four or five times before they finally let me take the bag back, take more things out of it and then pass through again. I must look suspicious (probably because I was so sweaty from all the commotion) because then they really searched me thoroughly.
We passed, hit the terminal. Inside, it was about 100 degrees, but our flight would be leaving soon. We thought.
The plane was supposed to board at 12:45 but at 12:40 they said that there was a delay, it would board at 1 PM. This went on, in 15 minute increments for two hours. In the heat for two hours, waiting for the plane to board. Luckily we'd grabbed a snack because the 1:30 flight didn't take off until almost 4 PM.
In the air, our luck of the day was consistent. A woman with three children sat one row away. The entire flight, they all yelled at each other, trashed the entire area and the baby cried.
We got all our suitcases, so that's a relief, but the Immigration Officer flagged our Customs Declaration with a BIG BLUE "A". We didn't know what that meant, but it means "agriculture". We'd need to have our bags checked for contraband food. This last drama of the day involved the only nice person along the way. He kiddingly told us that if we had any contraband from France (the usual pate, cheese, etc) we should dump it now. We didn't, our bags passed and we were free from this horrible day.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Regime
These happy women have been dancing in the Luxembourg Gardens for several weeks now. I went this morning to visit them and try to take a better photo, but the workers were taking them away.
They are happy, joyous and beautiful. They are alive with action. They are naked. (Remember this is France).
The best thing about them is that they're not afraid to show their "stuff". And, there's a lot of it. Bellies, boobs, butts. All beautiful, curvey, voluptuous. Womanly.
But, not our culture's ideal. (... meaning both the US and France). In both countries, thin is the standard. Young is also good. I even think that thin women, as a general rule, look better and healthier, their clothes certainly fit better.
So why didn't the artist create a sculpture with thin women dancing? I can only guess.
I personally don't think this would be as interesting or as beautiful if there were runway models depicted in this dance.
But, this brings up the topic that's ever-present, in every ad and pharmacie window right now, probably on most people's mind -- weight loss or body improvement.
There are tons of products in pharmacies in France for cellulite, stomach fat, dieting. The push is on to look less like these women as we pull out our bathing suits and head for the beach.
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