Nous sommes arrivés à Paris

Today is Friday, marking a week since we’ve been in the UK. We’re celebrating by taking the Eurostar to Paris. Because we packed way too much stuff the underground wasn’t an option, so we had to take a cab – both slower and more expensive. But it does let you off right in front of the door you need to go in at St Pancras station (avoid the temptation to call it St Pancreas, as you won’t be able to stop doing it. Also be sure you’re pronouncing it Snt, as there’s no discernable vowel sound in there).

Being the kind of travelers we are we arrived at the station and went through the minimal security screen over an hour before the train was scheduled to depart. Also being the kind of traveler I am I somehow managed to get my suitcase in a part of the turnstile that prevented it opening. Fortunately there was someone there to help me through. Once we got to the waiting room, Dave went to buy a water and came back with a newspaper as well, since it’s cheaper to buy both than just one. It was full of fascinating news, including a piece on a new drug that may be prescribed for women who drink two glasses of wine a day, and another on how the Argentinians are furious with Jeremy Clarkson for driving a car with license plates that may or may not have been an allusion to the Falklands war.

(The following section was written on the train, so it’s primarily in the present tense) Eventually our train was called and we made our way up the escalator and on to the train. We are in standard premier, which means we have a nice table between us, and also that we had a light lunch (cheese and a couscous salad). Our seats were on the side of the train that  only has 1 seat, which was nice. Unfortunately there was a very screamy child sitting right behind me. Back in the day when I had a eurail pass and was travelling all over Europe, trains were the place to pull out the Let’s Go! book to read about your destination and make plans, so that’s what I did. The train goes very very fast (Dave’s phone GPS had us at 177 mph) and is very quiet, but feels like an airplane in heavy turbulence. We both missed the Chunnel – it was very short and near the start of the journey. Now we’re whipping through the French countryside on our way to Paris. Dave tells me we arrive I 15 minutes – it is a two hour ride and has just flown by. Another side note on the train is that there was free wine with lunch, and that they have little tiny coke cans. (Train section ends)

The trip went by very fast, and then we were in the Paris Gare du Nord. As Dave pointed out, this is our biggest shift yet – changing countries, currencies, outlet shapes and language. We’ve both been kind of nervous about it. Fortunately the sign for “taxi” is the same in French, and the line for taxis was very obvious – and very long. But it moved pretty quickly and soon we were ensconced in our own Paris taxicab. We drove forever, but at least we’re on the right side of the road. We finally got to our hotel and I was a little disappointed, because it’s basically on a tiny side street surrounded by apartment buildings. We got checked in and unpacked, and then went down to the front desk to make some rezzies. We got a dinner reservation for tonight, and made one for tomorrow night on our own. The one for tomorrow night required printing out our own tickets, which meant using the hotel’s computer and its French keyboard, which (among other things) has A and Q reversed and the @ sign in a very strange place. We both remained calm and saw the funny side, so it was not a bad time. Then we headed out to find the restaurant and learn to use the metro.

So it turns out that yes, our hotel is on a quiet side street surrounded by apartments, but once you get off our quiet side street you are right down among ‘em. We’re very close to the Montparnasse metro stop, and there are restaurants & shopping everywhere. We loved walking around and seeing things, and the metro was quite easy to figure out. We took it to the Eiffel Tower stop and walked around a little, but we needed to get back for dinner.  The restaurant was called Le Rousseau, and as far as I could tell we were the only Americans there, and two of a very few non-French speakers. We’d asked how to say “we have a reservation” in French, so when we got to the restaurant Dave did, and the whole night they would all come over and talk very fast in French and watch our faces get all confused and then laugh and say it in English. They did, however, give us menus that had been translated into English.

Well, mostly translated. We didn’t order the starter simply called “pork products”, and my duck confit was called very crispy duck. My gratinated mussels were scrumptious, even though they came in an escargot plate which made me nervous. Dave had octopus with dry sausages, also yummy. For his main dish he had the largest portion of beef tartare I have ever seen. When he’d ordered it, the server had said to him, “You know…?” just to check that he knew what he was ordering. She also recommended wonderful wines – a Bordeaux for him, a Chinon (Cab Franc) for me – that paired perfectly with our mains. When it came time for dessert, our other waiter would not take no for an answer from me and kept reciting all the desserts – crème brulee, mouuse au chocolat, charlotte, etc, etc. If I weren’t happily married, it would have been the perfect seduction scene. As it was, I resisted his advances and had un café. Dave had a chocolate sundae with pistachio ice cream. It was wonderful.

Then we waddled back to our hotel and our room, our first that doesn’t look immediately into a blank wall. It looks across a courtyard into another row of windows, but at least we can see the sky. And it has a shower curtain that goes all the way across the tub. We are sure liking it here in Paris.