Karen Fawcett

It’s common knowledge that France has one of the best health care systems anywhere.  In 2009, the World Health Organization (WHO) declared it the best in the world.

Knowing that and considering my late husband experienced French medical care all too frequently, why did I fall apart over having cataract surgery last week? My English-speaking internist recommended the cabinet of renowned ophthalmologists in whom she has confidence.

I was able to get an appointment nearly immediately—a good thing because waiting for medical appointments is not good for my nerves or disposition. I sailed into Docteur Caputo’s office in the 16ème near the Trocadéro.  Immediately surveying his walls, there were zero framed diplomas attesting to where he attended school, whether or not he was a real doctor, much less one who was competent to make me see clearly again.

Plopping down in his chair, my first question was, “Do you speak English?” Not missing a beat, his response (with a French accent) was, “Yes, my mother’s from New York. She and my Italian father met in the U.S. and they moved to France.”

Georges (by now, we were on a first-name basis—or I was) assured me he goes to the U.S. at least twice a year. And yes, he was qualified to operate on me—for that matter, he makes his living constantly doing surgery and has the newest ultrasound equipment.

Already, I felt better, if still scoring high on the anxiety scale. Georges explained he’d remove the lens and replace it with a new synthetic one. An Acrosof IQ lens was inserted into the “pocket.”  What a coincidence it’s made in Fort Worth, Texas. I wouldn’t have known this if I hadn’t been handed a patient implant identification card as I was leaving the clinic after the outpatient surgery. The nurse instructed me to always keep it in my wallet because it contains the precise information about my new eye.

It’s amazing how the French and most Europeans keep every medical document and the results of all the tests and vaccinations they’ve ever had since they were born.  It’s a complete difference between Europeans and Americans. We’re so used to our primary care doctor keeping our records that when my Paris internist asked me about a surgery I had 20 years ago, I simply couldn’t answer and it was a quasi-major operation. But Nancy, the internist of enormous patience, will simply have to guess about the results.

Another difference between French and U.S. medical care is that it’s rarely one-stop shopping unless you’re a patient at the American Hospital of Paris.  In order to prepare for the surgery, I had to go to three different offices in various sections of Paris and Neuilly-sur-Seine.   Then there were the two trips to the pharmacy for pre- and post-surgery medications.

One of the other things I learned is unless you have family, surgery when you’re overseas and alone makes you feel vulnerable. When the admissions clerk at the clinic asked for an emergency contact, I gave her the name of my son, who was snowed in and under in Washington, D.C.

If there had been a problem, what could he possibly have done except to come and collect my body? I should note this surgery was done seven days after my first meeting with Docteur Caputo and perhaps my thoughts weren’t as organized as they should have been.

Prior to the cataract surgery, I surfed the web and then some. It’s a now-routine procedure with few complications.  But there are always some oo-la-las.

Another conclusion: if you’re at all language challenged, it’s important to have a doctor who can talk to you in your native language or take a translator. It’s essential patients understand all of the ramifications.

During the 35-minute-long procedure, I wanted to know precisely what was taking place, but Georges was having none of it and had draped the surgical area.  If only he and the people who were assisting him would speak up, I would have loved to ask questions.

When I was in the recovery room for observation because I’d had local anesthesia, I started firing off what’s and why’s immediately and guess what?  Amazingly, I was asking them in French. The staff responded in English.

OK, happily this was a simple surgery. But expats in foreign countries should examine their tolerance level and whether or not they should return home if they’re ill.

Patients tend to be nervous and aren’t always listening as well as they should. Line up your friends and support system. Undergoing  these types of procedures are enough to make a calm person nervous.

The morning after the surgery, the doctor wanted to check on how the procedure had gone.  He was pleased with the results. I was a bit tired, but was reassured about my vision since it didn’t slow down my tapping away on my BlackBerry. I stuck around the apartment, but that was more because of the sub-zero Celsius weather than because I didn’t feel well.

When I went for my second check-up, it was apparent I was the only patient who was alone. After all, this wasn’t a dance where it takes two to tango. I questioned Docteur Caputo if that were always the case, to which he responded I’d have to ask the other patients.

On my way out of his office, I told Georges I was writing an article and wasn’t he curious to see what I had to say about my brush with French medicine.  It was only then he gave me his email address. French doctors don’t do that! Hey, merci Georges. First, I can see and second, I realize I can navigate the French medical system and go at it alone. Does this mean I’m a grown-up who can operate nearly anywhere?

To really enjoy the city, all you have to do is open your eyes and allow sufficient time to get lost, because when you do, you’ll discover something new. This past week has been a testimonial to that premise. I kept finding myself in places I didn’t expect to be and I’m continually amazed there are so many areas I barely know, even though they’re within minutes of my apartment.

During a trip to Neuilly-sur-Seine, I got off at the wrong Métro stop and ended up walking through the commercial area of Paris’s bedroom community.  In spite of the fact it’s just outside of the Périphérique and about four miles from home, this town is completely different from central Paris. Come to think about it, the last time I was there was to visit a friend in the American Hospital of Paris.

All of the stores are très BCBG, and the women and children certainly weren’t wearing tattered jeans. If they were wearing jeans at all, they were crisply pressed, and the women sporting them had dressed them up with high heels and fur coats.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Neuilly’s residents are rich. If they’re not, they’re probably housekeepers, nannies, gardeners—or inherited the house.

The apartment buildings are grand—many built in the mid-1980s and have balconies that go on forever and not only are landscaped but have (often red) awnings protecting them from the midday sun.  The majority of these low-rise units are set back from the road and gated. Inside the gates, you can spot the types of cars owners don’t want parked out for all to see because they’re magnets for vandals.

Neuilly has some drop-dead beautiful houses (pardon, villas), and you know that captains of industry must own them—and you wonder if anyone can make so much money and be honest.  After being somewhat dazzled by Paris’s version of Beverly Hills, it was time to get going or I’d miss my appointment.

Even though I’ve lived in France all of these years, I never remember that the French refuse to give directions—either because they don’t know where you want to go or because it’s going to take too long to explain how to get to my destination—or give the most detailed instructions waving their hands as if I’ll understand more quickly.

Then there’s always someone who gives directions, but they happen to be the wrong ones. In this case, I hopped into a cab and paid the driver and chalked it up to being born without a sense of direction and forgetting my plan de Paris or printing out directions from Mapquest.com.

Rationalizing a taxi ride is a way to see more and faster, I also like to use the captive driver as a French teacher. How I wish the use of cell phones (even with earpieces) were banned.  I want to speak French and not be subjected to someone’s private conversation—and frequently in a language that has zero resemblance to French.

Getting home is generally less chaotic if I don’t have another appointment. I can intentionally use getting lost as a means to see another neighborhood that’s beyond the usual limited bounds of my neighborhood.

When I moved from Washington, DC, to Boston, I ended up knowing Boston much better than the District.  My routine wasn’t set in stone as it had been back home. The way I initially came to know Paris was by hopping on and off the Métro or the bus, walking until I was ready to drop and then hopping on another bus or subway.

Each and every neighborhood was a new discovery. Now that I’ve lived on the same Paris block, I realize I’ve lost some of the feel of the City of Light. In a couple of weeks, I have a houseguest coming for a visit. I’ve already informed her she’ll be on her own during the days while I’m working.  I hope she’ll understand that when I tell her to get lost, I’m actually trying to encourage her.

But the more I think about it, I think this is the time to take a refresher course in Paris 101. We’ll get weeklong RATP all-purpose transit passes and explore the city the same way I did when I was a newcomer here.  And what makes wandering and getting lost interesting is that Paris is also changing.  It seems to me that, if Bonjour Paris is going to write about Paris, we shouldn’t be recycling press releases and stories from other websites.  Much better, I think, to get out and see for ourselves, even if we have to ask for directions.  D’accord?

There are so many wonderful places to live. In reality, I could move anywhere and have considered many options. I had been thinking about Buenos Aires.

After doing considerable reasarch, I thought HolaBuenosAires.com and the city might be my future. How many people do you know return from Argentina’s capital without raving?  The city is so charming and très Français. The cost of living is much less than the City of Light. And if I could master the very stylized steps (yes, the man leads), I could dance my last tango in Paris—and head to Argentina.

My mental bags were packed, having done a fair amount of homework. There’s a daily non-stop flight from Washington, DC, where my grandchildren (and their parents), live. Because there’s only a one to two hour time change, you don’t have to deal with killer jet lag. Since I was going in December, the forecast was the 80s and 90s, warm and sunny. There’s a lot to be said for crossing the equator in a cold, wet winter.

Well, that’s what I thought, but the weather wasn’t summer. It had never been so cold or rainy. Rarely did the sun have the courtesy of shining. Even so, I hit the streets, and wandering is a great way to see Buenos Aires. Walkers can spend hours exploring its 48 barrios, including San Telmo with its incredible stores filled to the gills with wonderful jewelry plus art deco artifacts.

No one should go to Buenos Aires and not visit the 13-and-a-half acre Cementerio de la Recoleta. It has more than 6,400 incredible vaulted tombs and mind-blowing mausoleums, 70 of which have been declared historic monuments. And yes, Eva Peron was finally laid to rest there after having made her political mark on the country.

Anyone heading to Argentina should read its history. Argentina (Eyewitness Travel Guides) gives people an excellent overview of the country and its tumultuous past and present.

Who cares if Argentina is famous for its beef, and 68 kilos (that’s 150 pounds) is the average per capita consumption? Even vegetarians can find plenty to eat. The country’s wine industry is exploding. I prefer French wines but the wines from Mendoza, San Juan, and La Rioja provinces are good and are making their mark in the global wine industry.

Why didn’t I fall in love with the city?  Why did my visit further persuade me France has a superior quality of life, albeit more expensive? Perhaps it was influenced by the fact English is not taught in the schools as a second language; or because I was depressed knowing that a third of the city’s population of 14 million people is officially classified as poor by the by the government. You can see the evidence in the presence of the cartoneros, the army of trash pickers who make the central area of the city look like an expanding landfill

If I hadn’t rented an apartment, I might have felt differently. But staying in a hotel gives people a false sense of security and well-being. That doesn’t make sense if you’re really trying to learn the city. You should feel a city, explore the grocery stores and get a taste as living as a local.

For example, after visiting the Park Hyatt – Palacio Duhau, it was clear I would have had a very different impression of Buenos Aires had I stayed in this drop-dead gorgeous hotel, which has been named one of the best business hotels in the world, and certainly #1 in Argentina.

Yes, it could have been transplanted from Paris in terms of style, incredible food and the French look and feel. But, it also commands Paris prices. More to the point, it’s not Buenos Aires, not the reality of the city. Instead, it’s a place for rich locals to gather and for foreigners to parachute in—and in which they could be anywhere where money buys everything you want.

I left Buenos Aires disappointed and with increased resolve to stay in Paris. Even though I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb in B.A., as I would if I were to live in Asia, it was clear it would be hard to assimilate in a country where families are incredibly insular and not overwhelmingly welcoming of foreigners—especially ones who don’t speak Argentine Spanish.

The Expat community isn’t as large or as active as Paris’s. It’s hard to visit the city without coming away with the impression of its  economy and the realization that Argentines have very little confidence in the country’s government and are vocal about its corruption.

It was surprising to me that real estate purchases are priced in US dollars, and a major topic of discussion is where rich Argentines can invest their money. They recall all too well when the banks closed in 2001, and the peso was devalued by 75% causing the worse financial crisis in the country’s history.

Having cited the negatives, my friends rave about Argentina and are making beelines there since they feel it’s so French and is one of the in destinations.

Now that I’m convinced Paris has the best quality of life, I can’t wait to return to Buenos Aires as a tourist, take tango lessons and spend my evenings at one of the city’s many milongas (dance halls). It will be fun to enjoy one of South America’s most vibrant cities. And, I’ll make the time to explore the countryside rather than apartment hunting.

Even if Buenos Aires is considered the Paris of South America, it simply isn’t Paris. If you’ve spent time in either city, invariably you’re going to have a lot to say.

For the fifth consecutive year, International Living has announced that France has the best standard of living in the world. As someone who lives here, loves it and writes about France, this should make my heart sing—and does.

Returning to Paris to see snow on the runway at CDG airport gave my heart a wee start. What caused greater consternation was the news that the air controllers might be on strike. Hey, this is France and manifs are a way of life. Strike first and then negotiate. Whoever was watching over me took pity and the moment I was home, I was home.

I wondered whether I would find the clothes I remembered leaving for the deep winter chill. Where were my boots, my gloves and the wool hat that I bought in case of weather extremis? Not to worry, if I couldn’t find something, the winter sales are in full swing. Having lived in Paris 22 years, I’ve learned where to find deep discounts on moderately priced clothes.

There are downsides to living in France. Dealing with the French bureaucracy can cause people with rock-solid constitutions to contract heartburn. Anyone who has moved to, or within the country, knows the amount of required paperwork is enough to make perfectly sane people pull out their hair.

In spite of these frustrations, the French are privy to what’s considered the world’s best health care system. In addition, free and excellent education is available for those who choose to take advantage of it. French citizens are subsidized by the government from cradle to grave, and even though poor people do exist, they comprise less than 15% of the population. The French are quick to complain about high taxes. But they receive many benefits for their contributions.

All I know is I’ve been able to schedule all of my medical appointments within a week, and I’m going to have to fork over 60 Euros to see a private physician. If you’re an American, you know that’s peanuts.

If anyone tells you France is a tropical paradise, please remember the Bonjour Paris mantra: People don’t live in or come to France for the perfect weather. They come for the architecture, museums and world-famous landmarks. People wax poetic about walking along the Seine, being overwhelmed by the beauty of Notre Dame and tracing the steps of so many renowned writers, artists, actors and intelligentsia. Many people agree that France is one of the most beautiful countries anywhere; it’s difficult not to be impacted by its varied and rich history.

It’s hard to mention France without noting its food and wine. Many feel it’s some of the best in the world and has inspired many countries’ cuisines.

I’m not saying that there isn’t excellent food all over the world. My first dinner here, however, was a tribute to what I’d been missing. For 35 Euros, a beautifully presented and delicious three-course dinner shouted welcome. The restaurant’s wine list had some expensive selections, but we were able to find a perfectly lovely bottle for 27 Euros.

Aesthetics are an essential element of French, life from the way food is presented, flowers are displayed and store windows are decorated. For many, France is filled with unlimited eye candy. No matter where you look, you’ll invariably see something you’ve never seen before.

Another thing I appreciate about France is its central geographic location, and the fact you can be in different countries, with incredibly varied cultures, in a matter of hours.

There’s no question that living in Paris is substantially more expensive than other parts of France. But once you venture further afield, properties are available that cost less and the quality of services doesn’t diminish. Homes in Province frequently sell for less than $100,000 and may be situated in mountain ranges, on land with cascading wisteria, lavender galore, sunflower fields or vineyards. Few will refute that France has some of the most beautiful landscapes anywhere—and there’s no charge for the incredible views.

Even small villages have outdoor (roving) markets. Churches have concerts and cost nearly nothing or are free. France is small enough that you can be in the mountains, at the seashore or in locales that look and feel entirely different. And France’s first-rate rail system facilitates getting from here to there quickly and economically.

Film executive Leonid Bochkov says, “I think the #1 rating is close to reality. France is one of the greatest nations located in the heart of Europe. It is large and diverse in terrain, has a good climate and its history and culture are very rich. French people are friendly and the atmosphere is optimistic. Prices are less than in many neighboring countries plus roads, transport, medicine and education are on a high level. French women are beautiful. I vote for France!”

My choice is France as well. Hail to long lunches and family meals. Who wouldn’t be seduced by five weeks of vacation and a greater chance to savor living and life.

Manners are important and people tend to be respectful of one another. The French possess a certain savoir faire. Even though many people work extremely hard, their jobs aren’t what define them unless they’re Président de la République française.

For the most part, people aren’t judged by how much money they do or don’t have. Rather, who and what they are takes precedence over the size of their apartments or houses or by their cars.

Most French tend to buy fewer things but invest in better quality ones. They appear to have an innate sense of style and a profound appreciation of the here and now. Whether or not it’s true, many claim the French are more romantic than others. It may not be easy to become a French person’s friend, but once you are, it’s for life.

Clearly, I’m prejudiced. But, do you think a survey that ranks quality of life can be valid? People have different criteria as well as expectations.

Please don’t be bashful and post your thoughts—including what country you’d vote for as being the best place to live. Aren’t there always compromises?

After spending the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays in the U.S., I’m really looking forward to returning home. Don’t get me wrong—there is so much to do and see in Washington, D.C. It’s not as if there aren’t great (free) museums, exhibitions, lectures and readings at bookstores—not to mention shopping. And yes, there are good restaurants in Washington, but my favorites in Paris are awaiting me, not to forget their moderately priced wines.

If only Loehmann’s, T.J. Maxx, and Costco opened in France, people would be elated. Anyone who has ever visited Wegmans, located in the mid-Atlantic region of the U.S., would make even the French jealous when it comes to the incredible selection of groceries of differing varieties. A foray there is almost like taking a gastronomic trip around the world.

On the other hand, knowing the French, many would bemoan the opening of such stores as putting the Ma and Pop variety out of business. And they’d be right since people (most especially in smaller villages) tend to be loyal to smaller commercial enterprises.

When I lived in Provence, the advent of a new shopping center was invariably coupled with some boutiques in the town, plus butchers, bakeries and vegetable stands closing their doors. Perhaps it was “progress” but it also signified a lack of personal interaction and perhaps, a sign that the same level of quality might be on the way down.

Even though it’s freezing cold in the City of Light, the first thing I’m going to do (after unpacking my suitcase and shuffling through the mail) is run to the Maison Kayser Bakery at the corner and buy a croissant and a pain au chocolat and hightail it to the Luxembourg Garden. Then I’ll know I’m really home. A thermos of coffee will be in one hand and even though it may be colder than cold, those bakery items will taste like heaven. Who cares about calories and carbohydrates on the first day home? Besides, I will have turned in my car keys in D.C. and will go back to walking and taking public transportation. No more jockeying for parking spaces.

I will have had my initial Paris fix when riding from the CDG airport to my Left Bank apartment. My breath never ceases to be taken away when crossing the Seine, spying the flying buttresses of Notre Dame and catching a fleeting glimpse of the Musée d’Orsay. The same van driver usually collects me; he’s accommodating and takes me a slightly circuitous route as if to affirm the landmarks I love are still there.

No matter how many times I’ve made the trip, there’s always something new on the horizon—and even familiar things often seem new to me.

When I return to Paris after a lengthy hiatus, I indulge in a trip to La Grande Épicerie Paris at Le Bon Marché. Yes, the groceries cost an arm and a leg, but the quality is nothing less than sublime.

After writing about how much I love Paris, which doesn’t keep me from traveling as much as I can, you might wonder why I spend time in the U.S. The main reason is family and the most compelling magnets are two girls (age three and six) who are constant inspirations, fill me with belly laughs, and make me realize I’m growing older because they’re filled with boundless energy and it’s hard to keep up.

One of my greatest pleasures is telling them about France and the collection of books about it keeps growing. Watching the film The Red Balloon, produced in 1956, was a special experience. Each of us came away with different impressions and a few tears were spotted rolling down our faces. “Gran” can’t always answer their questions and thank goodness for Google. Why wasn’t the Internet invented (as we know it today) when my son was in high school?

Many of my American friends who live in France don’t have the luxury of returning to the States as frequently as I. For me, traveling between the two countries provides a sense of equilibrium and an opportunity to regroup with very old friends. And no matter what I’d like, I will always be an American—albeit an American in Paris. And after I’ve been in one country long enough, I realize that both have more than their fair share of bureaucracy and frustrations.

I count myself among the lucky: one day, I’ll know what I’m going to do when I grow up. In the meantime, I hope to share my love of France with my friends (real and cyber) and kidnap my son, his wife and their daughters to the City of Light as frequently as possible. Things could be worse!

The Christmas and New Year’s holidays are over, and if you weren’t able to be in France for them, here’s another reason you might want to hop on a plane and come.

The winter sales begin on January 6, earlier than in previous years when the sales generally started closer to the 20th. Perhaps the early start time is giving Père Noël a reprieve if he happened to be feeling a budget crunch on Christmas morning. Patience is a virtue and what are a few extra days when it comes to buying a gift for your dearest and nearest or for yourself?

The Minister of Economy and Finance, Christine Lagarde, has officially standardized sale periods. The Bonjour Paris email box will no longer be inundated with questions as to when France goes on sale. Winter sales will begin on the second Wednesday of January unless it falls after the 12th and will continue for five weeks rather than six. Previously, the government didn’t have the dates fixed in stone and the sales began on different days in different areas of France. Now, with a few exceptions, the sales will take place at the same time from the top of the tea kettle to the bottom.

If the sales aren’t enough of an incentive for you to come to France, there are additional reasons to head here: low airfares, hotel promotions, and if you’re going to spend time in stores (and hopefully, museums), you won’t be bothered if it’s cold. There’s also a greater selection of rental apartments during the winter than in the spring or summer. Plus, many landlords are willing to discount if it’s a last minute rental. Something of something is better than a lot of nothing.

Now for shopping tips: Go to your favorite store(s) before the sales begin. Scope out the inventory, but please understand that no matter how much you beg to buy an item before the official start date, it’s verboten…. which doesn’t mean that if you’re a regular at a boutique, “your” sales person won’t (kinda) hold something for you if it’s possible. If you’re a good customer, you’ll have more of a chance of engendering favor.

French law mandates sale items must be on the store’s premises a minimum of a month before the start of a sale and on the sales floor at least a week before. Items that have been specifically purchased to entice shoppers into stores because they are discounted, or less expensive than the store’s usual stock, are required to be labeled with the word “promotion.”

If there’s an item you must have, try to be at store when the doors open. Don’t think you have to line up at 4:00 a.m. à la Walmart on black Friday. But it’s judicious to hit the sales as early as possible if your heart is set on a specific item. It’s chancy to wait for the perfect dress to be marked down again and most stores discount substantially at the beginning of the sales. They want to move merchandise, and there will be more of a selection in more sizes when the sales begin. But, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t check back in case the store’s management has additional stock in the backroom to lure shoppers into returning to the store again — and hopefully again.

The most heavily discounted items are generally ones with the greatest mark-ups. For example, if a dress has been featured in a fashion magazine or on the store’s website, chances are it’s going to be priced to go and go quickly.

Accessories have a longer sales life and generally aren’t as substantially discounted. That doesn’t mean never, and many Americans find that last year’s French fashions haven’t been introduced yet when they return home.

The way shoppers can be certain it’s a sale item is if the original price ticket with a bar code has a slash through the price with a reduced price noted. Don’t be seduced by signs proclaiming reductions up to 70% — at least at first. Yes, there will be a few items but probably not ones you’ll want to take home with you.

Clothes are by no means the only things that are on sale. Housewares are some of my favorites, and I try to buy at least one professional Henckels knife. Even reduced they still cost plenty and merit being preserved and never placed in the dishwasher.

When buying during the sales, many stores specify the sale is final. Check with the sales people before buying if you have any doubts and if you think you might want to return the item, be certain that’s noted on your receipt. Some stores will allow returns within 48 hours.

OK — how about the deeper than deep discounts? As the sales continue, there’s more wiggle room depending on the item and how eager the store is to make room for new inventory. I bought a coat that was reduced by 60% and because it was dirty from being tried on so many times, the storeowner gave me an additional 10% reduction.

If you’re a non-EU resident and exporting your purchases, you’ll qualify for the VAT rebate (12%-15% depending on the store) if you spend at least €175 in the same store in one day. Be sure to bring your passport and allow time for the clerk fill out the required paperwork. Many hotels give tourists a 10% discount coupon for certain department stores. These may or may not be valid during the sales – but it’s always worth a try. You have nothing to lose except for the 10%!

The summer sales will also go from six weeks in duration to five. Shopaholics do not despair! Storeowners now have the right to schedule two weeks of sales during the year with the only caveat being that it must be finished more than a month before the official sales begin.

Even with the weak dollar, there are plenty of people who come to France and the EU to shop for specific items that they can’t afford in the U.S – even when they’re on sale. One friend sent me a spreadsheet detailing how she saved money even after factoring in her air, hotel and food costs. It can be done and even if you don’t save real money, it’s fun trying. At the very least, it’s an excuse to head to France!

As I sit down to write the annual Bonjour Paris year-end letter, I realize I’m not quite certain how many have been written. It’s either the 14th or 15th. I’ve lost count, since we first launched as Keyword: Paris on the travel channel of America Online. How times have changed.

Those of us who worked on Bonjour Paris were initially condemned to connect via a 14.4K dial-up modem. In France, it was always hit or miss and rarely on the first try. There were at least five AOL numbers in Paris, and the modem would rotate from one to the next until there was something other than the damn busy signal. The “You’ve got mail” message signaled success.

The France Telecom phone bill would arrive, and there would be pages and pages listing each connection attempt. And then there’d be a notation of many French francs. Since the site had many people working on it, the phone bills at the end of the month would be staggering. Mine was over $1,000 because FT charged by the minute. Talk about sticker shock, but it was the cost of doing business.

Connecting to the Internet was the ultimate luxury. If it were a question of sending emails, you’d compose them first and send them all at once and download any ones you’d received. Then you’d answer them off-line because you could hear your phone bill’s meter edging up, or in my case, skyrocketing. Those were the days of chats, with me, living in the wrong time zone, getting up at 5:00 a.m. Paris time to be online until 7 a.m. (9-11 p.m. ET).

The concept of staying connected 24 hours a day was unfathomable for neophytes. Skip the idea of IP phones, Skype and on-line meetings where people can be anywhere in the world. Who imagined many of us would be living a large portion of our lives on-line? The recently released movie Up in the Air that stars George Clooney would have been considered fantasy. Who could possibly fire people via video conferencing rather than in person? It happens—but it’s not the way George Clooney opts to do it as he lives out of a suitcase taking short-haul flights within the US collecting American Airlines frequent flyer miles.

Today’s college students probably have no concept of dial-up modems. The French have become incredibly adept at IT technology. There’s even a T1 cable in my apartment building, which was constructed in 1887. Considering how the French swore the Internet would never catch on, they’ve come a long way since the Minitel.

The year 2009 has been another landmark in how people communicate. Many people and companies have Facebook pages and Twitter accounts. Bonjour Paris has launched both, and we realize it’s the new way of establishing a community. The number of Bonjour Paris Facebook Fans has been growing, and we’re delighted to have yet another way to keep in contact. On Twitter, we’re @Bonjour Paris, and realize this social medium is an art and a science.

What we’ve realized is we’re changing with the times. Our site has always been a work in progress, and we hope to make some significant enhancements in the upcoming year. There will undoubtedly be some changes some might not love. We will be doing more social networking and would appreciate your spreading the Bonjour Paris word. As always, we’d like to have our readers’ input, so please feel free to send me an email with your suggestions.

It’s a new era and we’re listening. In the meantime, the Bonjour Paris staff wishes everyone the happiest, healthiest and most peaceful New Year with nothing but love and joy. Our family may be changing, but we’re a family of readers, of writers and of so many people who contribute their time. Thank you (or more correctly, merci) to each one of you.

So many people are Christmassed out by the time December 25th rolls around that it’s a relief when the actual day arrives. Deck the halls and fa-la-la! ’Tis the season for eggnog and holiday cheer until you want to get in bed and pull the covers over your head. It’s nearly impossible to avoid the constant sounds of holiday Muzak bombarding you as you enter a store.

Are you irritated by television ads promoting things to buy, buy, buy? Even adorable Sasha sitting on the presidential lap for the “igniting” of the national Christmas tree and Michelle Obama reading stories to children just add to the heap. Are you tired of Christmas? If so, you’re not alone.

But if you travel, you can get a different dose of Christmas, depending on where you’re going. There’s no question there can be way too much Christmas—and the feeling is global. If you happen to be in Asia, where they share the religion of marketing, it’s hard to escape stuffed Santa dolls and streets festooned with wreaths and miles of lights. Artificial snow in Southeast Asia? Why not?

Paris has a special glow during the holiday season, as do many cities throughout the world. The lights on the Champs Élysée may be overpowering, but they’re excess with a French accent, and variety makes the too-muchness of Christmas a little more bearable.

Christmas Markets in the EU have become big business and an increasing number of cities are promoting them as another way to attract tourists. Come one and all and stay in the area’s hotels and eat in local restaurants—and spend. But the markets have amazing things for sale and many of them are beautiful and unfamiliar to Americans

Americans who are traveling on business frequently buy gifts for their friends and family when they’re abroad precisely because they may find something unusual from a local craftsman or simply a more European sort of thing—and anyway, you’re supposed to bring home a souvenir, aren’t you? Even then, if you’re in Munich or Perugia, make certain the item wasn’t made in China. If it was, it probably costs less back home. But will you have time to go shopping after you return?

But just now I have found myself craving some holiday spirit. I’ve just returned from Buenos Aires, and the Argentines traditionally don’t decorate for the holiday until December 8th. When they do, it doesn’t feel terribly festive. The city doesn’t go all out decking the streets with holly and ornaments.

The Plaza de Mayo, the city’s historical center, famous because of the Perón rallies as well as the riots that took place in 2001, doesn’t even have a decorated tree. The square is surrounded by the city’s Cathedral, city hall and the presidential palace, The Casa Rosada, looking much as they do anytime of the year.

The stores and restaurants may put up a light or two, but don’t expect copious garlands. Perhaps it’s because it’s supposed to be dry and hot during December. But that doesn’t stop Miami from overdoing Santa.

The tango is the national pastime of Argentina, but don’t expect the milongas (dance halls) to look festive. Maybe it’s because it would detract from the dancers, who wear shoes that frequently shimmer and glitter, as they glide across the dance floor with precision and elegance.

No one should go to Argentina without watching people tango—which is nearly impossible since wherever there are tourists, there are bound to be dancers. Some dance because they’re in the spirit. Others perform and then pass the hat hoping to collect some pesos or dollars. The tango is done by people of all ages and it’s nothing less than sensual without necessarily being sexual. There are definite dos and don’ts when it comes to milonga etiquette.

Cultures are so different. Buenos Aires is considered the Paris of South America and some of its building are very French in feeling. The ultimate tribute to that architecture and design is the original building of the Palacio Duhau Park Hyatt on Avenue Alvear, which looks like so many streets in Paris’s 16th or 17th arrondissements. But it’s not all decked out in splashy Christmas colors.

The original building is more of a statement about how the French architect León Dourge built a Hotel Particulier in 1934 for a member of the Argentine aristocracy. After extensive renovations and the addition of the new section, the Park Hyatt opened this property in July 2006.

Still if you can’t afford to stay there (and expect New York City prices), at least go for tea. Not only will you see some the city’s most elegant and rich residents, but you’ll also see some understated holiday decorations if you’re in B.A. during the Christmas season.

It’s not New York or Paris. But the belle époque glamour of the Palacio, complete with rows of columns and the intricate ironwork coupled with panels from a 17th century castle in Normandy in the Oak Bar, gives visitors a real insight into how the “Portena” rich and famous lived. And yes, even though smoking isn’t permitted in restaurants in this part of the city, cigar smoking is permitted in this opulent room. This visit to Buenos Aires made me contemplate whether I like all of the razzmatazz that accompanies the holidays in France and in the U.S. I’ve come to my personal conclusion but would appreciate hearing yours. In the meantime, merry, merry.

One of the things many travelers don’t factor into their trip expenditures is the cost of coming and going to certain countries. Depending on your passport, you may be in for a surprise when you purchase a plane ticket. If it didn’t set you back enough, you may have to buy your way in and out of the country and obtain a visa.

A hot off the press add-on fee pertains to Americans, Canadians and Australians who are flying into the Buenos Aires airport. Effective December 28, 2009, the Argentine Immigration Office implemented a reciprocity fee.

Happily, you can pay for the visas at the airport and won’t be turned away if you arrive without a stamp in your passport. There’s a desk at the airport and as long as you have cash, a credit card or traveler’s checks, you’re good to go.

The fees are:

$70 for Canadian Nationals and it’s valid for only one entry
$131 for United States citizens that is valid for ten years
$100 for Australians that can be used for only one entry.

Flight crews, people from the above countries, who have legal residences in Argentina, plus people with official or diplomatic passports are exempt from paying entry fees.

While you’re thinking security and the myriad aspects involved in air travel, ascertain whether or not a visa is required. The airline should know but that doesn’t mean you’re not responsible for checking the government’s official tourist site. Another caveat: be sure your passport doesn’t expire within six months of your return ticket to the U.S. A conscientious airline representative can (and should) forbid your boarding the outgoing flight.

Leafing through my passport, I realize it represents a mini-fortune documenting my travels and some didn’t come cheap. You have the option of sending your passport, the supporting paperwork and passport photos to the consulate of the country where you’re intending to travel or using an Expedititor Service to facilitate the process. A Briggs is one of many of these companies and you do pay a premium in addition to the cost of the visas listed on their site.

Who says travel is glamorous when there so many variables? But for travel junkies like me, each visa stamp brings back memories I’ll never forget.

Come to think of it, it’s a good thing I returned from Buenos Aires on December 18th, 2009 or I’d be out an additional $131. On the other hand, I’d be able to return to Argentina without having to ante up additional cash.

Many Consumer Traveler readers travel extensively. Have you ever forgotten to obtain a visa before leaving the U.S.? And what’s the most expensive visa you’ve had to buy? In my case, I’d wager it’s my collection of visas permitting entrance into Vietnam.

Karen Fawcett is president of Bonjour Paris

Photo: detail of print by Tina Chaden

Are full body scanners the answer when it come to averting potential terrorist attacks when going through airport security? Would you object to walking through them? Are they an invasion of your privacy?  Would you ask to be individually screened?

Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport will implement them within three weeks after the Christmas Day incident of explosives being concealed by Nigerian suspect Umar Farouk AbdulMutallab on a Detroit bound flight.

Many people questioned feel being screened should be a non-issue and the sooner the better. They want to speed up the time it takes to clear security and would welcome not having to take off outer garments, removing shoes, belts and not being required to unpack computer bags.

On the negative side, even then, these machine aren’t foolproof because it’s necessary to rely on humans to do visual scanning in an extremely finite period of time. That means evidence might be missed and the people responsible for scanning may not have the required technical expertise to intercept it.

One executive warns against an over reliance on technology. He feels it breeds complacency due to the belief machines have taken care of an issue so you do not need to worry. He’d be willing to walk through a scanning machine but would have greater confidence in the El-Al method of questioning. Even though he objects be being grilled and prodded, he has more faith in it from a security point of view.

A travel executive voiced she doesn’t think full body scans are the answer and will cause many to re-think their travel plans. She feels the TSA has numerous problems and when new screening systems are introduced, people manage to get through with contraband. The real issue is that people who want to cause harm will find a way to do it.

The ethical issue of privacy is out of date states one airline executive. The person doing the screening doesn’t see the passenger in person unless the passenger himself chooses to identify him or herself.

Tony Lamb, an operations research analyst with Scientific Research Corporation, says, “the TSA’s security paradigm is extremely reactionary. I remember never having to go barefoot at the airport until Richard Reid tried to blow up his Nikes. Now someone new hid some Semtex in his underwear and we’ll have full body scans. The bottleneck is at the security screening and it’s faulty. Unfortunately, it’s better than what we had pre-9/11.”

Lamb never liked the federalized guards at TSA. “They’ve had minimal training before being posted; a lot of them are little more than mall cops and are task saturated. Screening all of the passengers for possible bombs, knives, and guns in the allotted time is tough.”

Alisa Templeton from the Denver area says, “Hell no to body scans and here are just a few reasons why: They’d slow down, not speed up, security – especially if any of the TSA agents are gawkers. It’s a violation of my privacy. Yes my doctor sees these things, but she’s a doctor. Terrorists will find ways around the scanners as they’ve already done with watch lists and other security measures.”

People have different (and sometimes very passionate) opinions about these scanners. Please post how you feel and would you alter your travel plans?

Karen Fawcett is president of Bonjour Paris.