Ah Paris, sous la pluie

Di knitted a Dickie. She thinks, given I’ve been feeling the cold, that I need a dickie, but bigger than hers, so Di’s going to make me a big dickie, because every woman’s husband needs a big dickie. So Di explained as we gathered our bags together in the 4:15am darkness.

The night concierge, who looked something like a suntanned Einstein, with a bigger nose and the mad scientist hair decidedly flattened on his preferred sleeping side, stood up in alarm, gesticulating wildly, “You’re late, you’re late, he was here (the cabbie) but he’s gone, you didn’t respond to his pay link”. In fact, we were early and as the day transpired it also emerged that; no pay link was ever sent (or necessary), the nightman sent the cabbie to the wrong building (by chance he saw us on the hotel stairs while leaving) and half of our takeaway breakfast (the gluten free half as it turns out) was left in the fridge….by the night watch. Einstein by name….

Early at St Pancras International train station, we had time to decipher where, in the 150m by 20m barricaded cattle run, empty but for scurrying officials, a section might open to allow us cattle to enter – to get the jump on the twenty or so other bleary-eyed and bewildered-looking travellers. Just as I noted Di giving me that “just wait, and I’m sure they’ll tell us” look, 150 metres away, torrents of wheely bagged puffer jackets surged around the corner, pouring into the cattle runs, sending the officials scurrying back to their door posts lest they be swept away. We skirted the 150 metres outside the baricades, then another 250m up the outside of the terminal building, past passengers still seething down the queue line, eventually reaching the end of the line. Lucky we got here early! The queue moved quickly, and we were processed, onboard and on our way to Paris lickity split.

An otherwise uneventful trip got us to Gare du Nord and then to Chatelet, from where we walked to the ‘Bagelstein’ coffee shop just off Rue Rivoli to drop off our bags as the airbnb didn’t open till 3pm – and we love that we can drop our bags at a coffee shop called Bagelstein. We wandered to our go-to Paris Bistro in Rue Montorgueil, Le Compass for the best soup a l’oinion in the universe, frits and a wine. Harry and Jordy will remember this place. At the adjacent table three japanese girls in faux furs spend myabe 15 minutes arranging and photographing themselves with their food before dining.

A stroll through the back streets of the Marais, the sun intermittently bursting through the rain clouds and lighting our way, got us back to the Airbnb on Rue Saint Honoré at 3-ish. The Marais is a popular gay area, which is fine by us, but I draw the line at Tintin tongue kissing Captain Haddock, not cool, shatters my boyhood memories (see photo). The Airbnb Di booked is awesome, in Rue Saint Honore, a short walk from the Tuileries and the Louvre, great views over the rue and, for Paris, reasonably spacious. Only downside, shared with most Paris accommodation, is the fire code – or lack there of. A central timber staircase encircling a lift the size of a vertical cylindrical coffin, provides the only access in and out. Any fire would convert the well into a roaring jet-engine furnace. Ominously, the fire escape plaque on the room door, provides tips on how do survive as long as possible in your room – apparently wet towels on the door are a good option. On our first attempted exit from the building, we couldn’t find how we got in and spent 5 minutes walking around in circles, peering in doors. Basically if there’s a fire and the firies don’t arrive in time – you’re screwed.

A nanna nap before heading back to the Palais Royale for a roast chicken and beef bourguignon dinner. Brief stop at the Franprix store for some breaky goods. Awesome.

Absolutely gorgeous day today (Friday). Di cooked up some omletes in the kitchenette before we headed out to walk the streets of Paris. Blue sky, impressionist cloud formations, occassional sunshowers, and not so many people – gorgeous. I wanted to get my bearings and walk past previous haunts; where we stayed and breakfasted with the boys in 2016 at ‘Flo’s’ in the Marais for instance. Paris is such a beautiful place to walk. Every street corner reveals another postcard image of classic chimney topped stone buildings, sidewalk cafes and inevitably well dressed Parisians with small puffy dogs.

We wandered across Pont Louise Phillippe to the ile Saint Louise and across to the latin quarter, traversing the cobbled streets and lanes of the old town. Very touristy but, for us at least, delightfull to explore the history rich back streets with small stone churches, topiaried gardens, art galleries, cafes and shops.

According to our stomachs we tuned our attenae to eateries around noon and decided on Polidor, in Odeon, where Di had dined before with Michelle in 2023. The place was buzzing, predominantly with locals, but we managed to jag a table at the bar. Leak and potato soup with crispy onion bits and baked fish on vegetables – delightful.

We continued our explorations back to Rue Saint Honore where we enjoyed the afternoon sun views from our room before dining out on a Carrefor boxed dinner of Potato and Lardons, a green salad and 2019 Chateau Les Ancres Cab Sav. Lovely.