Paris

Our delivery to Paris was fast and efficient. I just love these fast trains and hope that Australia can give us something similar not too far down the track.

The taxi brought us safely to our apartment, I think by a reasonably direct route. We were to meet Laura at 17:30 but we were a bit ahead of time, so we had a short recce of the neighbourhood. The position is great – on the banks of the Seine and with heaps of restaurants and bars at the corner, about 50 metres away. Notre Dame is just a five minute walk away.

We wandered down to Notre Dame, and surprisingly, there were no queues, though quite a few tourists milling around, inside and in the square outside. We took a seat in the sanctuary as a mass was being celebrated. Even though we did not know the words, the liturgy had a familiar flow and rhythm, and we felt comfortable absorbing the ritual. Jen went forward to take the elements. On Saturday as we were returning from our walk we noted that at around the same time there was a long line of people waiting to enter, so we felt privileged.

After a coffee and crepe, we got back in time to meet Laura from Only-Apartments who showed us our digs. It is very secure with keypad entry to the main courtyard through massive doors, another keypad entry to some ancient stairs leading to our second floor apartment. Laura was not sure of the building’s age but thought 1700s, and she could be right, judging by the massive oak beams on the ceiling. But anyway, it is very comfortable and very Twenty First Century with its inclusions. Jen is warmly appreciative of the laundry and dryer, the furnishings are great, comfy bed, nice wee kitchen. Importantly, fast wifi and as a bonus, a free telephone with free calls to landlines in Australia.

Saturday presented as a bit bleak with showers and a wet outlook for a few days. We decided not to activate our Paris Pass until Sunday, giving us, hopefully, better use on sunnier days at the end of the week. If you haven’t noticed by now, I like to have a good knowledge of the geography where I am visiting, especially the layout of airports and railway stations. For me, there is no worse feeling than the helplessness of not knowing where to go or what to do. So we took advantage of the wet day to check out the Metro and RER Paris railway, and the Charles de Gaulle Aeroport. We will be using the CDG on Tuesday when we make a quick dash to Manchester to see Steve and one of Jen’s old mates.

The CDG is massive and we familiarised ourselves with our departure spot when we leave on Saturday. Terminal 2 is quite some distance from there, and when we got there found armed soldiers preventing us from getting to our part of the terminal. I guess we will have to wing that bit on Tuesday.

The trains are interesting. A shabby looking guy came to the head of the carriage, gave some sort of angry speech for a minute then walked up and down with his hand out for money. His speech must have been pretty unconvincing as he was singularly ignored by his fellow passengers. When he finally left, he was replaced by a young man with a saxophone who entertained us with some jazzy numbers. We gave him a couple of Euros, as did another lady, but the other passengers were not so taken with his talent. We hope he made enough to cover his fare. I reckon the beggar guy probably made a loss so we are left to wonder why he bothers. Maybe he has some shifter tricks we did not see.

Satisfied with our inspection of the aeroport and a road test of a coffee shop, we headed back to Paris, taking advantage of a clearing in the weather to stroll up to Musee D’Orsay. What a fabulous building (great toilets) and fine collection of mainly impressionist art.

We were a bit exhausted from our day’s outing and thought we should walk back to our apartment, perhaps with dinner on the way. It is a lovely walk along the banks of the Seine, past the Notre Dame and over the Pont Saint-Louis to our Ile Saint-Louis and our home for the week. We have made the brasserie on the corner our regular dinner spot as they have a pretty good menu and it’s not too expensive. We share a table with a lovely American couple who live in Paris and come to our brasserie for their French onion soup, which they recommend. My embarrassing moment came when, putting everything in order after visiting the loo, my scarf got tangled with the zip. It was my favourite Cats scarf, too.  I think I managed to disguise my predicament reasonably successfully,  but it probably looked like a scene from the Ministry of a Silly Walks.

Finally it is good to be home, and make a plan for Sunday.

We had discovered a congregation of the Church of Scotland in Paris. The Paris Scot’s Kirk is just off the Champs Élysées with a service at 1100. The Paris Metro is excellent and we arrived at the nearest Metro station on the Champs Élysées at around 1000 hoping to find a nice place for brunch. Sadly everything is very quiet on Sunday morning but we eventually found a cafe prepared to serve us. It seems this is a pricier end of town. Ouch! We found the Scot’s Kirk easily enough, just as the rain started setting in. The congregation was a warm and friendly lot, though quite modest in numbers. The folk seemed quite interested in our travels. When we made our farewells and emerged, the sun was shining brightly with barely a cloud in the sky. However we quickly discovered that Paris in May is quite fickle and can alternate between cloudless skies and ripping wind and rain within seconds. We made our way up to the Arc de Triomph, though Jen seemed drawn to the very classy looking emporia along the way, so it was a slower and oft-interrupted stroll. By then the Parisians had emerged and the stores and cafés were enticing the passers by.

The climb inside the Arc de Triomph is definitely worth the effort. There are magnificent views down the Champs Élysées and the other boulevards that radiate from there. We took numerous photos, though we had forgotten to take our cameras, having to rely on our phones. I asked a French-looking gentleman, looking dapper with scarf and beret, “Pardon Monsieur, could you photograph us sil vous plait?” “No worries, mate” comes back in thick Strine. We seem to have no trouble encountering Australians.

Back on the boulevard, we had our first encounter with the “ring scam”. A chap appears by your side then seems to discover a gold ring at your feet which he picks up and asks if it is yours. It is an entree into a pocket picking experience. He showed me the ring, which did look impressive, but I told him to clear off. I was surprised that with all the warnings about this, it is still thought worthwhile to attempt.

We finished our touring with a lap and a half on the red hop-on – hop-off bus. It was quite enjoyable and luckily we stayed inside rather than the open upper deck, as the weather continued its contrary mood of sun and squalls.

Back at our brasserie, we continued our experimentation with the menu, this time trying the lamb chops and beans. It was quite disappointing, and I am not sure the lamb was actually dead when it was delivered to the table, but at least it had been shorn.  The beans had the opposite problem having been cooked beyond recognition as a vegetable. This has been our singular bad experience of French cooking, and maybe we shall explore further afield tomorrow. There are some very interesting looking restaurants just over the river in the Latin Quarter, near the Sorbonne.

While our meal was disappointing, we again shared with a very friendly American couple. We had a great conversation with them.

Monday. Well that will be another day. It usually is!