Adventures of a Girl

I have fallen in love with Gay Paree. And to be honest, I think Paree loved me back a little. I caught the infamous Eurostar from London, and arrived on a Thursday night, to a deserted rail station and no change to buy a metro ticket. Oh dear. Yet, somehow Paree intervened (or it could have been Berni), and we found our way to the business district of La Defense, north-west of the city, and our super-posh, super-comfy hotel beds. What a treat for the weary traveller.

Next morning, Paree gently wakes me with promises of perfect weather and many beautiful things to see, and I am keen to get started. Paree delivers – the weather is indeed perfect, and I wonder why I’m carrying my umbrella around. I guess I’m a Londoner now – never hurts to be prepared for those unexpected showers. Something tells me this won’t happen in Paris. We make our way to the Arc de Triomphe and I am bowled over by its beauty. I’ve seen many a picture of this historic monument, but nothing prepared me for the reality. It is a breathtaking sight, right in the middle of the most dangerous and notorious roundabout in Paris. We’re told that driving tests are conducted around this roundabout, just to ensure you can handle anything on the road!

We wander down Champs-Élysées. No bargains to be found here, and I wonder if they will even let us tramps sit in one of the many pavement cafes for a cup of coffee. Lucky for Berni (the frap-mon) we find a Starbucks just for the tourists.

We make our way to the Latin Quarter to join a walking tour of the city, but within the first half hour, we realise the guide is a self obsessed twerp and we find a nice café on the banks of the Seine instead. The waiter teaches us to say ‘may I have the bill, please?’ and we grimace at the €8.50 charge for coffee and water. Lucky Paree still loves me, and I forgive it this once. We decide to try our luck and head to another walking tour in Montmartre. Paree must still be in a good mood, because the sun is shining, and we have a great guide who has a passion for Paris, and not for himself. I love Montmartre – home to the red light district, Moulin Rouge, Artist’s Square, Picasso’s studio, numerous cafes and tree lined streets, and Sacré Coeur– a Roman Catholic basilica dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and located at the summit of the highest point in Paris. From this vantage point, I see my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. Oh Paree! How is it that you can be so beautiful?! We decide to experience fine French cuisine, and in the absence of a nearby café selling frogs legs or snails, we settle for cheese fondue. Though Berni experienced ‘brain cheese’ and me indigestion, we decided living in Paris could be a good idea for the food alone. Yum.

Next day, Paree once again provides a lovely summer day. We head back to the Latin Quarter and pray that we will have another guide for the walking tour. Paree takes pity and brings us the fabulous Mary, who spends four hours walking us around Paris, showing us more stunning Parisian landmarks – including Notre Dame, Louvre, Palais Royal, Tuileries Garden – sharing fun and interesting history facts, and making us laugh. She is so thorough, we are left exhausted and have no choice but to return to La Defense, have a nap, drink several bottles of red wine and visit the hotel bar for a late night snack. Damn that Mary.

Next morning, and despite the dry horrors and a slight throbbing at the temples, Paree delivers another gorgeous day. I’m beginning to believe that life in Paris means a perpetual summer. We are in need of coffee but it seems Paris shuts down on a Sunday. The shops are closed and the streets deserted. It’s like The Terrace in Wellington, or Martin Place in Sydney on a Saturday. We go in search of people just to make sure we’ve not been transported to a lifeless Paris overnight. Well, there was a lot of red wine consumed – anything could have happened. Lucky for us it doesn’t take too long to find civilisation – in the form of tourists, all queuing to climb the Eiffel Tower. And why wouldn’t you, this landmark is amazing, and you immediately want to experience it close up. So we join the queue and two hours later we had a ticket to the top. Then we stood in another queue to board the lift to the second floor. Yes, there has been a lot of queuing, and anyone that knows me will be expecting that by now I’m losing interest and perhaps whingeing a bit. But you’d be wrong, because this is the Eiffel Tower, and queuing is just part of the experience. Although it is true that my feet hurt a bit by now, and I have gone a bit quiet…so I’m relieved when we get to the second floor, and as expected, I’m overwhelmed by the view. This is Paree at its best. There is more queuing for the summit, more gasps and photos, queuing for the second floor, queuing for the bottom. In total, our Eiffel Tower experience is five hours - and I wouldn’t take a second of it back.

So now my time in Paree is ending, and I feel sad to leave. We wander through the gardens at the base of the Eiffel Tower and I kick my feet like a small child being forced to leave the zoo. We take our last trip on the Metro, and Paree gently kisses our cheeks as we board the Eurostar for London. Au Revoir sweet Paree, I shall never forget you!