The Adventures of the Anonymous Two in Paris
As
a last minute Christmas present for Husband, I booked up a weekend in Paris.
The plan was that he would come up to London on Friday and meet me after work.
We would stay in town in the delightfully economic orange darkness of Easy
Hotel before getting a morning train to Paris.
As
we were going to a city of style and chic, Husband decided he wanted to a new
coat. He had looked one up online and gone to the local shop – but it was out
of stock in his size. The sales assistant offered to check if it was available
in nearby outlets. But Husband, ever quick thinking, asked if he could check
availability in London. So, mid morning, I received a phone call to explain to
me what the coat looked like, and then inform me that there was one in the
Oxford street branch. If I would be so good as to go and buy it before meeting
him.
I
took the tube to Oxford Street. This was a mistake. It was 4 days until
Christmas. Millions of people were on the train, and trying to exit at Oxford
Street station. Outside the pavement was crammed so full that police were set
up in small turrets to try and keep the crowd moving, and reduce the risk of
contact between pedestrians and the slow moving traffic. I tried to move away
from the hoards of people around the junction of Oxford Circus. Finally I found
the shop. Now was just the small matter of trying to find the coat with the aid
of the photo I had been sent. Having found what I thought was it, I took the
one remaining item in his size and held onto it while I phoned him to check it
was correct. It seemed so.
Determined
not to put myself through the ordeal of the pre Christmas underground again, I
decided to walk to Covent Garden, where I would be meeting Husband. On the way
I passed through some of the back streets of Soho where there was (one of many)
massage parlours. But this one had a large window, with a topless mad, face
down, having a massage. Right there in the window. Presumably he had removed
his shirt – and would put it on again – in full view of the passing public.
Maybe this was the only way the massage parlour could evidence that they were
bone fide, rather than offering ‘extras’. Anyway, it amused me, and struck me
as odd, all at the same time.
After
meeting up with Husband we had a few beers and then made our way to Masala zone
for dinner of thali.
The
following morning, in the windowless darkness of the hotel room, we didn’t
realise it was raining until we left. Fortunately it was only a short walk to
the tube and on to King Cross International. The ticket issuing machine
declined to work, so we went to the human being instead. A pretty blonde, who
was full of cold, provided us with our tickets with surprising good humour
given how unwell she seemed.
We
breakfasted and then checked in. When we were summoned to the train we got onto
the moving ramp which carried us effortlessly up to the platform. Just in front
of us were two old ladies who were about to be run over by their own suitcase,
as they were unable to hold it still on the slope. I stepped forward to help
them, for which they were grateful. As we boarded the train the Eurostar woman
spoke to me in French. I had no idea what she was saying, but it was clearly an
indication of how stylish I looked. It seems I had inadvertently got posh seats
going out – which came with complimentary breakfast. Oh well, is there really a
limit to how many times in a morning you can eat breakfast?
On
arriving in Paris, we immediately boarded the Metro down to Au Trappiste. It
had been refurbished since our last visit but still had good beer and good
mussels, even though some of the French bistro ambience was lost. And the list
of mussel flavours was shorter than the 20 or so it had previously been.
However, the lavatories had benefited enormously from the re-furbishment.
We
spoiled ourselves with dessert of Café Gourmand. One of the small puddings
served was sticky, stodgy and tasteless.
To
help walk off lunch, we wandered towards Andy Pandy’s, via Notre Dame – which
had a high level walk way to the entrance, as some part of an anniversary
celebration. It gave you a different view of the front of the church, and at
the same time, completely obscured views of the church from a distance. The
left bank was full of bohemian students, as ever, and hadn’t changed at all. At
Andy Pandy’s, somehow still feeling a need for food (cold weather does that) we
had a plate of cheese and crackers. We were however, somewhat defeated by the
volume of cheese that was served.
After
getting the traditional photo taken, we walked towards our hotel. As we passed
Notre Dame bell ringing practice was underway, and it was clear that not all
the bell ringers had shown up. We pushed our way through Rue Rivoli which was
packed with Christmas shoppers. There were sparkly lights and outside ice rinks
aplenty, all ready for the Christmas spirit.
At
Palais Royal we turned into the street where the hotel was located. On
arriving, we lay down and rested for a moment. After all, we had done a fair
amount of walking that day.
Once
recuperated, we took the Metro out to Champs Elysees to walk along the
Christmas market lining the street which we had discovered the previous year.
It was still there. Although it was warm, we had a mug or two of vin chaud and
then found the flambee crepe place that we had enjoyed. This time, the crepe
didn’t bubble quite as alarmingly as last year with boiling Grand Marnier. But
this was good as there was considerably less risk of taking all the skin off
the inside of our mouths. On the other side of the road there was a large ice
rink, which was more than just a circle. It had pathways round fenced off areas
filled with models of winter scenes and animals. Part of the track which ran
back to the start was a long straight line, next to the pavement, and did
rather lend itself to being a race track and general way to amuse the watching
crowd. Particularly as the route had a dip in the middle, followed by a small
slope. This resulted in some people falling over and children struggling to
keep going – all of which enhanced the sense of danger when a speeding skater
came hurtling along.
The
glass roof of Grand Palais shimmered in the night sky coming from the disco
lights at the huge ice rink inside. We looked back over the glittering scene
from the lit up bit wheel at Place do Concord before retiring for the night.
The
next day we woke late and meandered towards Monmartre, stopping at a café on
the way for breakfast which was fronted by Christmas trees. We tried,
unsuccessfully to get change after paying, then continued our walk to
Monmartre. We had to run the gauntlet of pushy black street sellers trying to
flog rip off tat but finally got to Sacre Courre and walked to the village
behind it where we found a fabulous restaurant for lunch, where the tables were
elbow to elbow close.
We
had bought an oil painting of Moulin Rouge on our first trip to Paris, and now
bought a rainy day version of the same scene to join it, then walked back to
Gard du Nord for the train home.
Killing
time in the departures lounge we bought some fois gras, crackers and wine so as
to have something to eat on the train home. And what a snack that was.
Delicious and romantic in its simplicity.
Back
at Kings Cross, it seemed rude to depart without popping into the Booking Hall
for a mug of punch.
And, feeling hungry, we decided to treat ourselves with
dinner at the restaurant. It was the sort of menu where the meat doesn’t come
with any veg – you have to order all that as side dishes. Which looked very
tempting. So we ordered five, to the rolling eyes of the waiter who viewed us
with patronising condescension, already suspecting we were nowhere near posh
enough to be in his eatery. But with cumin carrots and things called sprouts
which weren’t sprouts at all, well what were we to do.
Then
we retired to bed in the hotel opposite the station – which made it easier for
me to get to work the next morning. The inbuilt wardrobe in the room had a
frosted glass front, which did rather mean that I had to get inside it and
play.
It
had been a good fun, last minute trip to one of our favourite places.
