I've Had An Eiffel

On the morning of my 40th, I was confused when K___ told the children to grab their teddies to bring to Grandma's. They never take their teddies outside of the house because of the trauma that would ensue should they get lost. Being slow on the uptake, I didn't work out this meant they would be staying overnight with Grandma until it was explicitly spelled out. For someone who leans towards skepticism, I can be astonishingly guileless at times. Then K___ pulled out a small suitcase from the dinning room, all packed up.

I learned we were going to 'That London'. It wasn't until we were at Victoria Station that K___ handed me revealed we were to be travelling on the Orient Express to Paris for four days. I was genuinely gobsmacked, not having got close to imagining anything so grand!


 

Dining on the Orient Express

We boarded a Pullman service and settled back into our armchairs while we were plied with Belinis and a gorgeous three course brunch. Once through the tunnel on an executive coach - and further lubricated with wine - we got onto the Orient Express proper. We had a day cabin to stay in and drink Prosecco until dinner was served. We were on the first service in order to get through the seven magnificent courses before we disembarked. It was a struggle, but we forced ourselves through it. There was the odd moment of drama when the train slowed unexpectedly and everyone had to dive for their wine buckets, lest anything spill. A wonderful experience!

Having spent all day basically lounging about, drinking and eating, we decided it would be a good idea to walk from the Gare de L’est to our hotel and actually get some exercise. Some of the roads were a little less than salubrious, but we arrived unharmed.

The next day, we woke early and headed out for the Louvre (we looked into the room and just laughed at the monumental bunfight over trying to get a decent view of the Mona Lisa and spent our time more productively). In the afternoon, we caught the overland to Versailles, and wandered about the place astonished at the sheer opulence of the place. There is gilt everywhere and you can understand how they afforded it when you discover how much it costs for a bottle of pop.

By the time we got back into Paris, there was just enough time to make our dinner appointment at 7:00. As we neared the restaurant, Kate pointed out a shop across the road selling Tibetan stuff and said, "Isn't that shop odd?" “Not really,” I thought, and had the first suspicion something might be up. Seconds later, I was delighted and amazed to see L & W sitting at a table laid for eight.

I must be the most guileless person around, because I honestly hadn't imagined anyone else was coming and it was a complete shock - a lovely one though. Of course, once the initial reveal is over, and I counted the chairs at our table, I knew there were more coming. P & J and G & A had been slightly delayed, but they appeared five minutes later and it mattered not a jot. The restaurant didn't look all that much, but the food was really excellent and I enjoyed the conversation greatly. Afterwards, we repaired to a bar for more vino and talking toot.

J&G at La Tour Eiffel

After a breakfast near the Moulin Rouge, Saturday found us traipsing from the Trocadero, under the Eiffel Tower and through the gardens - where I photographed a Scotsman taking a picture of a bush - to the Military Academy. We spent some time wandering happily among the smelly cheeses and greengrocery of the Rue Cler street market, where we grabbed some lunch. After that, it was past the military hospital Les Invalides (and Napoleon's tomb), over the Alexander III bridge to the Petit Palais and the Champs Elysee. Down that to the Place de la Concorde, and into the Tuileries gardens, where we sat for a while on granite blocks topped with bronze forearms, like some sort of bizarre monument to amputation, saw a miniature typhoon and wondered whether it might be the Rapture, and discovered pigeons with plastic epaulettes. After a good rest, we roused ourselves for the final leg, through formerly royal gardens to the Louvre, down to the Seine and finally to Notre Dame. All of this was done under the baking sun, so our evening meal felt well deserved! K___ and I slept badly the previous night and had had two days of drinking, so stayed sober, called it a night early, and left the others to hit the town.

The next morning, we grabbed a quick breakfast and mounted an assault on the hawkers of cheap trinketry to climb the hill of Montmartre to Sacre Coeur and then on into the bustling artists’ quarter and its street market with jumble of caricaturists, peddlers of knocked-out impressionist views of Paris and actually talented artists. Back down the hill past the two remaining Parisien windmills and into a junk market where G_____ bought some sunglasses and told us all about h’s dressing up box. Trauma.

The gang in front of the Opera de Paris.

We wandered down towards the centre of town to see the Opera de Paris, but that part of town was very quiet indeed and most of the shops were shut. It was Sunday, I suppose. We found a bar down a side street and grabbed a last meal together before going our separate ways; P&J for a cab to get their earlier Eurostar, G&A going back into town because they had another day, and K___, L&W and I wandered back to the hotel to grab our luggage and then head off ourselves.

If I could have asked for more, it would only have been for the rest of my friends to have been there to enjoy what the rest of us did, but I was spoiled beyond my wildest imaginings anyway and it is a trip that will take some beating. Many, many thanks to those of you who were generous enough to contribute, to those of you who were able to make it to Paris and increase my enjoyment even further, to G&A for being wonderful tour and wine guides and most of all to K___; the world’s least trustworthy but most amazing wife; I love you.