9/11 Outsider

Now that it’s been 10 years, it seems like everyone wants to know “where were you on 9/11?” Well, here’s my story:

On September 11, 2001, I was in Peru. I spent that day on a boat in Lake Titicaca, to be exact, which has a hilarious name and is the lake with the highest elevation in the world. It was a gloriously sunny day, but not hot, and I fell asleep and got really sunburned.

On the drive back into Puno, we saw brightly-colored Peruvian newspapers with pictures of burning buildings and large lettering indicating that there had been a plane crash in New York, and and some hours later we learned that the U.S. had been attacked – what?? It did not seem possible that something so terrible had happened back home. Shouldn’t my spidey sense have told me something was wrong? It all seemed very unreal, and it was only after exchanging e-mails with friends and family that I believed it. The events of that day did not even mess up our return flight – we were not scheduled to go home until 9/20, and by that time the flights were back to normal.

A close friend saved newspapers and a videotape of the events that day, so I could watch it when I got home. I hadn’t even seen the attacks all the way through at that point, and didn’t really understand the sequence of events. I watched the tape, and tried to imagine being in Seattle on that day, rather than 5500 miles away. I pictured hearing about the airplanes on NPR when my alarm woke me up, and going to turn on the TV. I imagine that I would have grabbed a phone to call my loved ones, and curled up on the couch with a blanket to watch in disbelief.

I will never be a part of the collective 9/11 experience. I will never feel the initial uncertainty of not knowing if it was a mistake or an attack or even a hoax. Maybe because I didn’t see it live, and I wasn’t around for 9 days following to watch the 24-hour news coverage, I was somewhat distanced from the panic and fear that has led to so many changes in our lives – some small (like NFL players wearing flags on their helmets) and some large (like the erosion to civil liberties). Intellectually, I understand all of the issues, but my emotions are less acute then they otherwise might be.

I ache for those who have lost loved ones, both on September 11 and in the years following, as a result of the wars or terrorism or illness caused by being a First Responder. I am grateful not to have been a witness to the events 10 years ago, but I also feel like I missed out on something. I am a bit of an outsider.

France, part un: Getting There

In the fall of 2010 I went to France with my then-boyfriend, Andrew. I had been working on him for a while, and although he didn’t have a burning desire to go, in the end he agreed. Life is short, after all. We had traveled together domestically (Sacramento and LA) so I trusted him with my wheelchair and thought we would be good travel partners. Unfortunately, it was less than the amazing romantic vacation I had hoped for. I could tell that something was bothering him from the time he arrived at my house the afternoon before we departed, and finally at the airport I asked him what was wrong. He told me that he didn’t really want to go! Yikes. I appreciated his honesty, but it did lend an awkwardness to the long flight, not to mention the rest of the trip. Although to be perfectly honest, I am glad he told me when it was too late to back out, because in spite of difficult moments, I am still incredibly glad we went, and grateful for his assistance.

I had done quite a bit of planning, of course, including taking a Basic French class at Rick Steves’ travel center in Edmonds, listening to the audiobook Last Minute French and joining a gym three months earlier so I could get myself into cheese-eating shape.  I was as ready as I could be.

The first flight, 7.25 hours, was from Seattle to Reykjavik on Icelandair. Once we got seated, I happily took off my shoes, inflated my neck pillow, and tucked in to the Cheddar-flavored Kettle Chips we brought. Then, I turned on my iPod Touch. Nothing. Are you f***ing kidding me? All my music, my Rick Steves France podcasts, and Last Minute French were gone! To this day, I still have no idea what happened – they were all still on my iTunes when I got home, and it’s never happened again. So I was stuck listening to the airplane radio and trying to make my way through the “learn French” tutorial on our individual screens. It was not good. But I was going to France! So technology be damned, I was  still excited. 🙂

Icelandair is a pretty good (and inexpensive) airline, but they charge for everything, beware. Andrew and I are pretty cheap, so fortunately we’d brought some snacks along. I don’t drink on long flights, to minimize trips to the bathroom, so that worked out. We were seated near the bathroom, in case I had had to go, but getting from the seat to the bathroom would have been a challenge nevertheless. I’ve heard that some airlines have an aisle chair (those skinny chairs that get you to your seat) onboard, to assist you to the restroom on longer flights, but not Icelandair. When we got to the Reykjavik airport, my intent was to make a beeline to the nearest restroom but unfortunately they don’t have an accessible restroom in that part of the airport, so they had to escort me through security to another area. Nothing like finding a security guard to take you to the bathroom. About the airport – it is gorgeous! It is very quiet, has polished wooden floors, and there are none of the fast-food vendors that you find in other airports. It looks more like a fancy office building than an airport. I was pretty impressed.

And 3 1/2 hours later… we were in Paris!

Peruvian food

I love Peruvian food. Mostly. There is a pot-roast-type dish called “seco de cordero” or “seco de res” with cilantro, that is divine, and potatoes in cheese sauce called “papas a la huancaina.” Spice is generally mild, potatoes and quinoa are common, soups are delightful and salads are rare.

Unfortunately, guinea pig (cuy) is also a delicacy. So much so that there is a painting in Cusco’s La Catedral (the Main Cathedral) of the Last Supper featuring cuy:

Anyway, I managed to avoid it until I was invited to a 15th birthday celebration for Alejandra, the daughter of the housekeeper/cook who worked for my landlord (during my first 6-month stint in Peru I rented a room from one of the administrators of the school where I worked). The party consisted of the two parents, four kids, and me in their one-room home on the outskirts of town. I should have known when I saw the guinea pigs running around on the dirt kitchen floor, but I was too naïve.

When dinner was served, there was a lovely stuffed green pepper and an entire guinea pig on my plate. Head and everything. Staring up at me, its scrawny little roasted paws sticking up. Oh, dear, I thought, since I immediately knew I was at serious risk of insulting them horribly if I didn’t eat it. As the only guest, I was the only one with a whole animal, too – the kids each only had half a guinea pig. I would be insulting them AND wasting their valuable food. I have to tell you though, I couldn’t. I took a couple of bites and washed them down with Inca Kola (a very unique beverage – kind of a bubblegum-flavored soda), but it was tough and stringy and gamey. I finally figured that not eating it was better than throwing up. When I left for home, there was some talk about “we’ll have to have you over again” but the Señora kindly added “next time, we’ll have chicken.” 🙂 They were SO gracious with my gringaness.

Two of Alejandra’s siblings

The birthday girl and her parents

Hotels

When planning a vacation, choosing a good hotel is more important than almost anything else you will do. Especially for someone with a disability, a hotel can make or break your trip. A hotel is much more than somewhere to sleep – it is your home base, the one restroom you can count on, your planning headquarters, your sanctuary, and sometimes even your laundromat or dining room. Generally, a hotel is the biggest single price tag, with the exception perhaps of the flight, depending on how long the trip is. The decisions that go into choosing a hotel are very personal and will depend on your travel philosophy, your budget and your particular disability. Here are some considerations:

1. How long to stay? I try to stay in each city a minimum of three nights – fewer than this and I end up feeling rushed. Plus, if I’ve done my homework and chosen the *right* city to visit, I will need some time there (and in the surrounding area) to feel like I’ve really seen it. This has the added advantage of requiring me to identify fewer accessible/central/reasonably priced hotels – if I had to find 6 or more hotels for a two-week trip it would take forever! This means that I go to fewer places but see them more in-depth, which is fine by me. I looooove me some Rick Steves, but hopping on and off trains and moving around Europe at a fast clip does not work for me – or for many people with disabilities. It takes time to become familiar with a city and what she has to offer – also, I like to move around via foot/wheels or public transportation as much as possible, which is a time consuming and research-heavy way to move. The alternative of course would be to make more use of taxis, but I prefer not to. You will never see it all – as Rick Steves says, assume you will return.

But I digress. Figure out what works for you and decide where you want to go and for how long. I like to map out my trip on a calendar where I can visualize it and move things around if needed (“uh-oh, I can’t see five museums in one day – better cut some or add another day” or “it’s going to work out better to do things in reverse order – what would that look like?”).

2. Once I have a rough plan, I figure out about how much I can spend – this is usually about $100/night. Sometimes in Europe it’s a little more. Unfortunately, the cheap, cute places full of character are often the size of a broom closet and anything but accessible.  While they are fantastic for an able-bodied person they are unrealistic for me.

Note: Most youth hostels are advertised as accessible, and although I haven’t yet stayed in one, they seem to be excellent, affordable options.

3. I often start my search on the website tripadvisor.com  – I type “wheelchair San Diego” or “wheelchair hotel Paris” into the search bar and start reading! Occasionally, I will get lucky enough to find a review actually written by a wheelchair-user, but rarely. I often find other tips about the destination in general by searching this way. If I come up empty, I search plain “hotel Puerto Vallarta” and start a Word file of hotels that seem to have good reviews and be in my price range. This can be narrowed down further by looking directly at the hotel website to verify rates and see if there is any mention of accessibility. If they don’t refer to access, I don’t count them out, but if they do (even if they point out that none of their rooms will accommodate a wheelchair), it’s a bonus.

I supplement my fact-finding mission with websites specific to accessible travel in a given area – see my Resources page for some helpful links. Most major cities have these resources, which I usually find through a simple Google search. I usually also cast a wide net by Googling “wheelchair Rome” to see what pops up. I have a ton of links that I have accumulated this way, which I will put under Resources. This is also the way to find non-hotel accommodations – for example, in Rome we ended up staying in a semi-private residence in which the owner had turned two rooms into accessible rentals with a shared bathroom. The owner has a son who is a wheelchair-user and he wanted to create a place for tourists with disabilities to stay. Nifty!

4. Once I have a good list, I start sending e-mails. I use the information I have gathered as a guideline, but I never consider it to be fact until I communicate directly with the hotel/rental/bed and breakfast. If I am looking out of the country, I try to begin with a salutation in their own language and then ask if they speak English. This is a formality – I have never found a hotel where no one speaks at least some English  – but I think it only polite to greet them in their own language and not to assume they speak English. Also, please remember that in most countries  1/2/2009 means the first of February, not January 2. Spelling out the month is safer.

I include my travel dates, what I am looking for, and ask about rates and accessibility. For example:

Bonjour! Perdon – Je ne parle pas francais – parlez-vous l’anglais?

I would like to book a wheelchair-accessible room for five nights in October – arriving Oct 3 and departing Oct 8. Do you have such a room available? 2 adults, double bed preferable. Also, what are your rates?

Merci beaucoup,
Inga ____

Remember that many places consider “wheelchair accessible” to mean simply that a wheelchair will fit in the door, not that there are grab bars, wide bathroom doors, a roll-in shower, or whatever else you might need. And accessible is in the eye of the beholder, so ask for what you need.

Also, do not assume that U.S.-brand hotels in foreign countries have the same standards of accessibility as they would here – they do not.

5. A note on hotels in the U.S. – the term “ADA” is helpful in that it includes certain features, usually grab bars, wide-enough doorways and some sort of adapted bathtub/shower. But it is still important to ask for what you need if that is not enough. For example, do you need a roll-in shower or a detachable showerhead? Are you traveling alone and need lowered closet hooks and peephole? The current trend is to have beds on platforms so they are annoyingly high and impossible for me to get into – will they remove the platform for you? Is there a charge? Fortunately, many hotel websites detail their accessible features, which makes it easier, but I still suggest confirming them. You may need to contact the actual hotel front desk as opposed to a toll-free reservation line, and you can ask for pictures or a diagram if you need to. In Candy Harrington’s wonderful book Barrier-Free Travel she suggests that if all else fails, you ask to talk to a housekeeper, who surely knows what the room looks like. She also points out that in hotel-speak, “reserving” a room is not a guarantee, but if the staff “blocks” a room this means it is held for you.

6. Take a deep breath, smile and ask for things if you need them. No amount of planning eliminates problems completely. On my recent trip to France, out of four hotels two were perfect, one was great except for the shower, and one was poor. C’est la vie, right? Sponge baths are not the worst things ever.