It's hard to know where to start. We thoroughly enjoyed our trip to Paris over the last few days, and I need to commit the memories to binary before the details fade irrecoverably. It might take a few sessions to record everything. If the ink is still moist when you read this, check back again later!
I do remember that we started early. I'm sure I
could get used to getting out of bed at 4:30am on a Saturday morning, but it would take more going-to-bed-on-time discipline than I've had for a while. We were driving away right on 5 o'clock, via the M5, M42, M40, M25, and M26 motorways, as well as a few A-roads either side. Driving was very easy, and there wasn't any distraction of note from inside the car for a couple of hours either. We arrived at Dover early, and found our way through the customs/border control/checkin maze, until we were allocated a spot on the Pride of Canterbury - two crossings prior to the one we were booked onto. It was interesting queueing up in lane 286 (yes, there are hundreds of lanes), and watching the logistics happen around us. Eventually we were beckoned forward onto the boat, and found a spot to stop.
The passenger decks were interesting. Not a lot of space to go outside, but it was chilly enough in the wind that we didn't want to spend long out. There was a nice view of those famous cliffs, and the castle on top. We reminisced about our tour there 13 years ago. Very soon, we'd left the port, and were off into the channel. A "moderate swell" was how the captain described it. It was a bit more undulating than we'd anticipated, despite his assurances of the full stabilisation, and there were some brief concerns about the potential physiological effects. But a couple of hot drinks and croissants dispelled those. We explored the duty free shop, the family bar, and the games room as well, and cleverly managed to avoid the food court, where the queue had been rather longer than we were willing to endure. Perhaps it was a portent, though.
It wasn't long before we docked in Calais. As soon as the manoeuvering was completed, there was a mad rush to the vehicular decks, and we sat in our car until the traffic started off.
We were in France. Following the tangle of road away from the dock took us straight onto the A16 motorway - luckily it was just the one we wanted. We headed towards
Amiens - which I'm sure suffered a number of what would become a large collection of mutant pronunciations. We looked around for a nice boulangerie, but being just after midday, everything was shut. A small sandwicherie made a good substitute, and we had our first purchasing
en Francais experience - successfully, given the friendly attitude and better-than-our-French English skills, as it turned out. We looked at a little of the town, and particularly the Cathedrale. It seems that all French Cathedrals have two western towers, often mismatched as here.
But can't stop in Amiens for too long, need to get to Paris, preferably before it's too dark. After a little confusion about the best way out of Amiens and the purchase of some fuel, we eventually made it onto the motorway again. The driving-on-the-right came quite easily. But once in the Paris traffic, and the tangle of highways (each of which has a number from three different schemes, not all of which are shown on each sign or the map), bridges, tunnels, interchanges, roundabouts, and exits that seemed to lead straight back onto where we'd just exited, we started to find navigation a little stressful. It was truly a surprise when we saw the hotel looming. Unfortunately, it was looming on our left. There was a great deal of improvised navigation and several miles between that instant and 15 minutes later when we eventually steered ourselves into the carpark.
We settled into the room, and contacted Géraldine and Bernard to say we'd arrived. Bernard came to the hotel to guide us back the 5-10 minute trip to their house for dinner, so that we'd know how to do it the next day to catch the train into the city.
Dinner was delightful. The girls enjoyed playing with Andrea, and the cuisine was tasty. We started with a duck/bread entrée, and followed with flétan (halibut) and vegetables baked in individual foil parcels. I'll have to get back with the wine details. For dessert, we had baked whole apples with home-made plum and strawberry jam sauces. It sounds a little mercenary to be describing the food, when it was the company and conversation that was the real high point. But the French gastronomie was evident.
It was almost midnight when Bernard escorted us back to the hotel, and we had arranged to meet them at 9:15 at La Croix de Berny RER station the next morning. Luckily, the hotel room was very quiet, despite being on the outer ring road and near the airport, so sleep came easily and quickly.
SundayI don't think I've had to put subheadings inside a blog entry before, but this one looks like it will be so long, that I'll need to. Perhaps I'll rush through a few key points for now.
Bought 2-day, 3-zone Paris Visite tickets at the station. These were good value. We met Géraldine, Bernard, and Andrea, and caught the train to Luxembourg (all 3 vowels are different from English!), and strolled through the streets to
Église Saint-Sulpice. We explored the fancy
créche de Noël - it was so large and detailed, it would be too understated to label it a nativity scene - and almost waited for the mass, which was to feature several of Messaien's méditations from
La Nativité du Seigneur. It was good to hear the warm up, at least. But we decided that the day needed to be spent touring, rather than listening to a religious service we couldn't understand.
After farewelling our friends, we jumped onto a hop-on, hop-off open-top double-decker tour bus from Saint Michel, and headed across the river, around the Place de la Concorde, and up the
Champs-Élysée. We were able to listen to commentary in English through headphones. Hopping off at the third Champs-Élysée stop, we squeezed our way through the subway to the
Arc de Triomphe, and the unknown soldier tomb. There was a general preponderance of military celebration throughout the Parisienne monuments.
We took the Metro from E'toile du Charles de Gaule (ie. Arc de Triomphe) to La Défense, and walked out to look at the
Grand Arche, and talk with the children about the philosophy of architecture.
From there, back to collect the tour bus at the older Arc, and continue west to the
Trocadéro. It seemed like a place where we might get a cheaper lunch than Champs-Élysées.But that wasn't to be. The biggest shock was the size of the crowd, which seemed to grow denser as we walked across the Seine to
Le Tour Eiffel. On comprehending the size of the queue, it was easy to conclude that there would be a better time (even if we couldn't actually nominate one in particular - some locality paradox, no doubt).
Back on the tour bus, for a drive through the Saint-Germaine Rive Gauche quartier, on a search for lunch.
Les Invalides (with its rational-in-retrospect pronunciation) was interesting to look at and learn about, although we didn't go in.
Lunch from a rather touristique shop was essentially three different ways of combining ham, cheese, and bread - pizza, toasted sandwich, and panini.
Bus took us along the south eastern part of the town. Arguably less interesting, except for the
Bibliothèque Nationale.
After a little walk around the Île de la Cité, warming up with a chocolat chaud or two, and seeing (and avoiding) the queue for the
Saint Chapelle, we decided to join a queue to visit
Notre Dame. We didn't have much influence over where or when we moved - we were just a part of a seething mass of tourism that wound its way through the church. We managed to find ourselves seats just in time for the audition au grand orgue. I think there were more than a few heads nodding, and I have to confess that mine was among them for a few seconds. We heard the Demessieux
Te Deum, Franck
Choral No. 3, Vierne's
Allegro Vivace from Symphony I, and a
Toccata by Roger Calmel, all played by Eliane Stefan-Birling.
We found ourselves walking around a rather busy area in the Châtelet(?) area, assessing different options for dinner. Most of the restaurants had full menus for a la carte dining, but also a fixed price deal for 2 or 3 courses. We chose a €12.50 three course option, with two courses a-la-carte for the girls. The soupe á l'oignon was delicious, if rustic, with bread and cheese grilled on top. My steak was better than Joanna's turkey. Both girls had spaghetti with tomato and basil sauce, only to discover that "tomato and basil sauce" isn't the same as "tomato sauce". The girls' tartes des pommes were satisfactory, but the cold créme caramels were delicious. The train took us back to our car, and minutes later we were asleep again in the hotel.
Monday
Although not exactly sleep-deprived, we got up a little earlier than one might ordinarily plan on a winter holiday, and headed back to try our luck in the Eiffel queue. Two hours. Walked through suburb to buy provisions and played on slide while Joanna stayed in queue talking to Canadians. Top étage closed. Elevator up. Cold. Ate lunch.
The queues for the elevators down were not long, particularly after what we'd already experienced. But we decided that we could at least visit the first storey if we took the stairs. On that level, there was an exhibition that seemed to have something to do with climate change. There was artificial snow on one balcony, and snow-shoes to try on. And there was a small model of the tower made from pipes covered in ice.
We decided to walk the rest of the way down, rather than wait for room in a passing elevator. We were able to empathise with all the tourists just joining the queue. The photo from a few steps up (through the wire) shows one queue snaking its way around - perhaps the most organised European queue we've seen - and the other shows the general crowded scene at the bottom. You'll be able to judge the temperature from the clothes.
Bus again to Montparnasse and Sacre Coeur
Louvre
Train back to La Croix de Berny, back to hotel, and back to Géraldine's for dinner.
Bon année
Home 1:30am
TuesdayWoke 9am. In car by 10am. There were various possibilities for the day - exploring the Bois de Boulogne park in Paris, driving to Reims (another victim of drastic pronunciation) in Champagne, or even a child-friendly visit to Disneyland. But we decided that the Loire valley was calling. We headed off at 10am towards Chartres, already aware from the guide book that we would see the "
greatest gothic cathedral in Europe". The drive was easy, even with the roadworks déviation. The cathedral was a beacon from many miles away. The asymmetry of the towers is curious, arising from the large number of different architects and builders employed through the construction. Wikipedia suggests that this was, during its construction, the tallest cathedral in the world, taking advantage of trebuchets as cranes in a swords-into-ploughshares manoeuvre. From inside, the colours of the stained glass were the most impressive - especially the blues and purples. However, since there was a service in progress, we didn't have much of a chance to explore. We took the chance to seek out a boulangerie to buy some baguettes and croissants, as well as some jambon, fromage, and boissons. More than half of the people walking around the village seemed to be carrying baguettes.
From Chartres, we continued south toward Angers. (Isn't it interesting how every single French place we visited ends with 's': Calais, Amiens, Paris, Chartres, Angers, Tours, Orleans. Maybe I'll learn more about that later.)
Angers seems to be famous for its château. Although often open to the public, it wasn't on New Year's Day, so we satisfied ourselves with a look at the outside. It was impressive. The
view of the river was nice too - better than conveyed in this photo. I might be able to stitch together a panorama in the fullness of time.
We found it difficult to reconcile the map with the street signs, and so the drive out of Angers was not quite trivial. But we eventually found ourselves on the road to "Tours (touristique)".
One of the factors contributing to our selection of this drive was Joanna's spotting of a fancy castle in the guide book, saying "I want to go there." The place in question was the château at Saumur, a delightful little town on all three sides of the Loire river (yes, there's an island), on the road between Angers and Tours. The road took us along the banks of the Loire for many miles, and this was the most delightful part of the drive, seeing little villages, islands, bridges, and vineyards dotted along its length. The château was quite spectacular - not particularly old (only 300 years or so!), but it certainly added some grandeur to the place. As the
guide says:
Of all the Loire's comfortable towns, SAUMUR is perhaps the most elegantly bourgeois, with its graceful Château lording it over the handsome townhouses spread out below on both banks of the river and on the large island mid-stream. The town's 250-year association with the military, as home to the French Cavalry Academy and its successor, the Armoured Corps Academy, has only further elevated its pretensions. Even the local sparkling wines are renowned for their charm.
From Saumur, we continued along the road to Tours, once the capital of France. I shouldn't give the impression that Saumur was the only village with a fancy château - each one we came to seemed to have its own. It all added to the magic. By now the sun had set, and we decided not to stop in Tours. We saw a little of the town, including the
cathedral, from the car, before heading back towards Paris.
Orléans (old, not new) was the designated dinner stop. Being a relatively large city compared to the others we'd been through that day, we had to negotiate a relatively complex route towards the city centre in the dark. We tried to use sonar, restaurant magnetism, or whatever senses remaining to point us towards the eating district, but this was not particularly successful. We parked at the Gare (train station), where we could see a chinese restaurant, a kebab place, and a brasserie. After due inspection, and a little more exploration looking for the perfect Orléans cuisine experience, we settled on the kebab place, where we had a suitable fusion of french crépe, Italian margherita pizza, and a more eastern turkey kebab-on-a-plate. I don't know if the old Orléans is supposed to have the same reputation as the new one, but we chose to believe it anyway.
Getting out of Orléans back onto the Paris road took several circuits (and a couple of river crossings). After a very complex route, we finally found ourselves a Paris sign, and proceeded - past the train station - back to Paris and our hotel with no more confusion.
WednesdayIn the car by 7:45am, driving towards Calais. Stopped at a generic cafeteria & fuel stop for breakfast (croissant, petit pain, beurre, confiture, et boisson for the girls, and a bacon and eggs for me!). On to Calais (one missed exit & unnecessary toll payment), bought lunch victuals and stocked up on wine. Missed ferry due to long queue at UK immigration (hadn't filled out landing cards!). Uneventful trip home.
Although we'd had a very enjoyable 5 days, the girls were particularly glad to get home and see Christopher again. Much of the conversation in the car had been choreographing the greeting they were to give him, and sorting out just who would sing which words. But that didn't eventuate. The fridge stocking level was the perfect excuse to nip off to Waitrose (supermarket) and pick up some ready-to-heat Indian and other dishes for dinner. Clearly it wasn't worth competing with the French slow-food cuisine, so we chose contrast!
Getting up for work this morning was, I suppose, a bit of an effort.
Yes, I'm behind. We've finished this weekend's tourism before I've even documented the last one! Last one was less touristy though - on Saturday we had a morning-tea visit from Rupert, Cath, Amy, Ana, and Phimi on their second last day in the UK, and then on Sunday, we caught up with them again at Coventry Cathedral - Rupert's old stomping (beating?) ground. After saying goodbye there, we explored the Transport Museum for a few hours.
The working week was relatively normal. I might remember some highlights later. I enjoyed helping out with the school orchestra practice on Thursday lunchtime, and then we had Community Choir in the evening.
We headed west to Cornwall, over the Torpoint ferry, along the south coast to our first stop at Looe, a picturesque little historic fishing village. Just when we'd decided that this was the highlight, we made it to the next village, Polperro, which was even cuter.
We hadn't been sure about whether to visit Eden - having received contrary advice about suitability for children. We were glad we drove in to see from the outside. Perhaps one day we'll go back and actually go inside. They are trying to establish some self contained ecosystems.
the most southerly point of the country, where there were some nice cliffs and waves crashing onto rocks, etc. We continued along to St Michael's Mount, at Marazion, just near Penzance. We walked across, the tide being low, but the castle and grounds etc were closed, so there wasn't really much to see or do. We thought about trying to fulfill the "Cream Tea" mandate. But the place we chose had too little "atmosphere", so we aborted and decided to head towards Lands End. The geography was good, but there were no tea shoppes open. There was just enough daylight, we decided, to reach St Ives, so that's where we zoomed to next. It was a delightful little place, and we had a nice little stroll along the foreshore, and managed to tick off another two local culinary requirements - ice creams (despite it being rather chilly) and pasties, which we ate in the car on the way back to Plymouth. We managed to visit the hotel's pool and gym to try to prepare ourselves for the next day's prandial onslaught.
. But during breakfast, we discovered that we were being pea-souped in the fog. While waiting to be seated at our table, we saw a big ship heading towards the harbour. But by the time we were at our table, all we could see was the tip of its funnel gliding past - accompanied by several blasts on the foghorn. After checking out, we braved the chill to take a look at the various swimming & diving spots.
. It was quite delightful, although closer to lunch time many of the car parks were full as people were taking short strolls to the tops of various nearby tors. We found some delightful rivers (East Dart, West Dart) and bridges, and storybook Widecombe-in-the-Moor village, where we bought lunch in Ye Olde Inn, and nearly found a suitable cream tea. But we decided afternoon tea would be better, so we zoomed off to Torquay to look for Fawlty Towers. We didn't see that place, but again had a nice walk along the shoreline, marina, and park (pic). This time, we did manage to get our fix of clotted cream. And wasn't it good! (May have to reschedule tomorrow's cholesterol test.) We followed the coast through Dawlish, Exmouth, Exeter, and then straight up the M5 to be home at 6pm.
I think it's time to have a rant about milkshakes. I don't like to admit it, but I normally indulge in a milkshake or two a week at home. Sometimes more. And there are some places that serve good ones (Donut King), and some that don't (Wendys, Hungry Jacks/McDonalds, the shop at Moore on the Brisbane Valley Highway). But milkshakes here are (a) nothing like what we have in Australia, and (b) extremely diverse. I think the first one I had was in Ledbury, at the Internet cafe. They made that one with ice cubes, milk, and some kind of flavour in a blender. It's probably the closest to what I'm used to. Today's was more like a cold "hot chocolate" - no froth, no ice-cream, and a weird, almost tannic flavour in the dregs. I don't know how they justify the term "milkshake". Anyway, I will continue my hunt for a decent UK milkshake.
It felt like quite a busy weekend: much more like what we did on our backpacking trip (14 years ago) than we had expected to be able to manage with daughters in tow. But we managed to keep them smiling most of the time too, so I have to describe it as a successful trip.
