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This month I’ve been a very lucky boy by getting whisked off to Paris for a long weekend, writes Ian King. Fortunately for me, my girlfriend isn't completely useless, like I am, and surprised me with a weekend break to celebrate our second anniversary.
I'd never been to Paris before, and while I might not buy into the whole ‘most romantic city in the world’ thing, it was definitely somewhere I’d always really wanted to go, and I'm glad to say I wasn't disappointed.
Usually, the worst part of any trip is the journey, so I was most
surprised to find that the Eurostar was actually efficient, comfortable
and value-for-money. The only fly-shit in the sugar of our outbound
trip was being sat next to a group of girl guides, all of whom were
from obviously rather ‘well off’ families, judging by how gratingly
well spoken they were.
Getting into the whole spirit of romance, I gallantly gave Charlotte my
headphones so that she didn't have to listen to the vapid little idiots
holding court for two consecutive hours in that curious way that only
privileged children can, meaning: "Oh yar, I'm remarkably well
educated, but I haven't got a bastard clue about what I'm talking
about, or what the real world is actually like."
We arrived at Gare Du Nord in good time and from there it was just a
quick hop on the Metro to our hotel. I was most impressed with the
Metro, particularly compared to our very own underground network. The
trains were relatively spacious, airy and had plenty of seats, rather
than a pathetic row down each side of the carriage in order to pack
more people in vertically like sweating, herded cattle.
What’s more, it was also remarkably cheap, with a ‘Paris Visitor’
ticket giving you access to any train or bus in the city for 48 hours,
all for the princely sum of just 11 Euros, compared to the
approximately 6 billion pounds any rail journey in the UK costs us, of
course.
Our hotel was a lovely little place just off the Champs Elysees, with
many of the main attractions all within a 10 to 15 minute walk, so it
really was the perfect location. OK, so our room was fairly small, but
hey, it was beautifully decorated, comfortable and clean, and it also
boasted one of those brilliant showers that has a 2 foot wide head on
it and feels like a bucket of warm water’s being poured all over your
bod.
However, we weren't in Gay Paree merely to stay in our room, so we
quickly dumped tour bags, freshened up, and then it was straight off to
the Eiffel Tower. But a 2 minute walk from our hotel took us onto the
Champs Elysees proper, and it really is a grand sight to see the Arc De
Triomphe standing proudly at the end of the wide, tree lined boulevard.
It didn't take us long to reach the Eiffel Tower and, despite seeing it
on TV and in films many-a-time (most notably for me during Superman II,
and that programme about the mental woman who married it and then
rubbed her mimsy all over its girders), I was honestly blown away by
the sheer scale of the structure.
Standing underneath at its very centre and looking up at the huge steel
girders arcing above is pretty awe-inspiring stuff, and I honestly
couldn't wait to get up there and look out across all of Paris. That
is, until I saw the size of the bloody queue.
The queue for the lifts was well over an hour’s wait, so we bravely, or
perhaps stupidly, opted to take the stairs. It was a gorgeous, sunny
day, so by the time I'd conquered the approximately 67 thousand steps,
I was romantically wheezing like I needed a lung transplant and
sweating like a rapist.
Unfortunately, the third floor was closed for an unspecified reason
(more mental women marrying the Eiffel tower and getting their
well-lubricated front bottoms out, I shouldn't wonder), but the vista
on display from even the first floor was absolutely stunning and made
the several cardiac arrests I had suffered on the way up seem more than
worthwhile.
We ate a late lunch and downed a couple of bieres at a little bistro
near the tower, and now I know why the French drink wine all the time,
seeing as a half pint of beer with a three inch head came to just over
6 Euros. Furthermore, I must remember that the French definition of a
rare steak actually translates to: "still mooing".
However, it was extremely pleasant to sit outside at a little bistro in
the sun and simply watch the world go by (including a convoy of a dozen
Japanese tourists on those funny Segway contraptions recently featured
in The Edge) and I can see why people want the whole ‘café culture’ of
our European cousins to become more prevalent in the UK.
One thing I particularly liked about Paris was that, while it was
always busy, it never felt rushed like London does, and people really
do seem a lot more chilled out, happy and polite. In fact, yours truly
soon got into the swing of things by throwing a cheery "Bonsoir!" out
every now and again too!
On the second day we hit the Louvre, which we got to by strolling down
the Champs Elysees and through the Place de la Concorde into the
gorgeous Jardin des Tuileries. This was one of my favourite places as
it hosted lakes, fountains and some wonderful statues of Greek and
Roman heroes, including my favourite, Theseus, the tragic hero who
survived the labyrinth of Crete and killed the Minotaur.
True to form, most of these statues were nude, and I couldn't help but
feel the man who clubbed the Minotaur to death should have had a much
bigger cock. Hey, but everyone's a critic.
Walking down the wide, tree-lined thoroughfare towards the stunning
17th century architecture of the Louvre, it was easy to imagine one was
(arf) back in the swashbuckling tales of Alexandre Dumas with
D'artagnan and the Musketeers racing to foil a dastardly plot by
Cardinal Richelieu.
We were quite unaware that the Louvre offers free admission on the
first Sunday of every month, which was a bit of a mixed blessing as the
world and his wife were seemingly in there. Still, it's an amazing
place to visit, and actually seeing things like the Venus de Milo (nice
tits, but crap at handjobs, according to Da Vinci) and the Mona Lisa
did cause a little tingle down my spine, though I must be honest and
say I only really saw about two inches of the Mona's elbow from about
10 feet away, due to the huge scrum that was in front of me.
There are certain places that you simply have to visit in Paris, and
I'd put the Louvre very near the top of the list. Even if you're not
big into art, it's still an amazing experience, and I feel a lot of
people simply forget that art galleries are often like opening the
pages of history.
After the Louvre, we headed over to Sacre Coeur, a beautiful 19th
century Basilica which overlooks Paris from its hilltop location. Being
a staunch atheist, you might find it strange to hear that I absolutely
love going into Churches and Cathedrals, but I've always found them to
be such beautiful buildings. I also love the way they all seem to have
that same ‘churchy smell’ to them as well.
Sacre Coeur is obviously held in very high esteem, as they had what
basically amounted to a bouncer at the front door who made certain that
people took their hats off and didn't take any photographs, or make too
much noise in respect for the good Lord. However, I did notice that
they didn't seem to mind the noise of the cash registers in the gift
shop, or the sound of coins clunking into the vending machines that
gave out little medallions as souvenirs. ‘Go, Team Religion, go!’
Round the back of Sacre Coeur is a lovely little place called Monmatre,
which is comprised of little winding roads, small bistros and art
galleries. It's also where a lot of artists come to ply their trade. We
spent another very nice couple of hours outside a gorgeous little
bistro called ‘Le Consulate’, tucking into Croque Madame and another
outrageously priced beer whilst we watched local artists at work, as
well as Americans almost getting run over by passing taxis.
Then we popped down the road to check out the Moulin Rouge, although I
can't say I was impressed. Imagine Chicago's on Chelmsford High Street
with a big red windmill chucked on top and you're not far off really.
After that damp squib, we headed off to yet another famous church, St.
Sulpice. Charlotte has a love of all things ‘Da Vinci Code’ and if you
too are a fan of the book, or the film, you'll doubtless know the place
I mean - famous for its huge organ (I know the feeling), the ‘Rose
Line’ (that tracks the equator) and Silas (the albino monk from Opus
Dei).
Unfortunately for us, no murderous albino monks put in an appearance,
but St. Sulpice is a beautiful old building, bedecked with gorgeously
detailed statues and bas reliefs, so it's yet another place that’s well
worth a visit.
We concluded our romantic getaway with dinner in a lovely restaurant
just off the Champs Elysees where I bravely ordered things from the
menu in French, with little to no idea what I would actually be served
(I think it turned out to be calves brains or some sort of fried offal,
but it was extremely tasty, fortunately).
After dinner, we wandered off to see the Eiffel Tower by night, which
is well worth a viewing as it’s all lit up. Neither were we alone -
there were still vast queues, even at 11pm.
All in all, I've got no qualms in recommending Paris as a weekend
getaway, but we could have done with a little longer as there was still
plenty of stuff to see that we couldn't fit in.
Like most Englishmen, I'm not averse to giving the French a bit of a
kicking for being, well, French. But Paris really is a beautiful,
relaxed, friendly city to enjoy a few days in, and I'm sure you'd enjoy
it every bit as much as we did.
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