There are worse places to be stranded by winter transport chaos than a friend’s cosy apartment in the chic 16th in Paris …
The story starts last Wednesday morning in Venice, when a text message informed us that our flight back to London had been cancelled, and we were unlikely to get another for the foreseeable future. Previous travel survival strategies came to mind, and we quickly booked to Paris – nearer London and where we did not need a hotel. The only problem was that we had been due to pick up tickets in London to go by the Eurostar train under the Channel to Brussels, then to Bruges for the Van Eyk to Durer exhibition on Tuesday.
Oh, and my wife was due in Aachen on Friday evening for a weekend visit.
The Internet did us proud. Using our friend’s computer (as I am now), we were able to find our old emails and print out the return halves of our Eurostar tickets, and the exhibition tickets, and book trains to Aachen and Brussels. The snow, which is not much by north American standards, has meant the cancellation of many trains, and those out of the Gare du Nord were running an hour or so late.
However my wife finally got to Aachen three hours late, while I explored some of my old haunts in Paris – the patronne of a local bar was still there, 30 years on, and I recognized her, though of course many other cafés and restaurants had disappeared or been re-looké.
I spent a most enjoyable evening in a tiny real neighbourhood bar/restaurant, wonderfully preserved from its creation 100 years ago, and now formally a monument historique. It was full of regulars, but they happily let me join in the conversation, including detailed discussion of the proper recipe for a brandade de morue. It came as a dish of cod covered in mashed potato, which is what I expected and is generally served, but I was told that it was really morue parmentier. Brandade, I was told, should have no potato but lots of olive oil, and then other details I didn’t catch.
No matter, what I had was delicious, as my neighbour agreed.
The conversation ranged from the rubbish being sold at the Christmas fairs that have proliferated in Paris in recent years – there are stalls the full length of both sides of the lower Champs Elysees, and other fairs in various arrondisements – to Formula 1 autoracing and an astonishing collection of Ferraris in central France. One of the customers knew the owner well, and I had been there twice some years ago doing stories. It was a deliciously Parisian evening, well watered with St. Veran, and “moderated”by a wonderful old chap with a long white and grey beard.
When I got back to the flat and watched the news, I saw that Venice had been flooded knee-deep on Friday. We had cold, rain, one gloriously cold but sunny day, and just a sight of water lapping over the edge of lower riva.
For once, we timed it just right.
With Eurostar saying that only passengers with existing bookings can get on the trains, we should get home from Brussels on Tuesday. Fingers crossed.
Otherwise we will just have to come back and be stranded in Paris again.
Lucky you. The last time I set foot in Paris was on a three hour stopover on my way from Athens to Copenhagen. I threw my backpack in a locker, put in a coin and pocketed the key (those days are over–when my Jordan roommate came to visit, it took a credit card and a fingerprint to rent a locker!), then I went straight to the Louvre to gaze on the Nike of Samothrace.
I was so disappointed to read in some Dan Brown novel that the Louvre now has some sort of pyramid structure by it. Paris is no longer the way I remember it.
Not that I would mind being stuck there in a snow storm, of course.
The pyramid is actually in the centre of the main courtyard – the one open on one side to towards the Champs Elysees – and is now the entrace to the museum, with a large underground plaza with food court, shops, etc. The Louvre did need a new entrance, and I.M.Pei was commissioned by the then president, Mitterrand, to do it.
His pyramid was highly controversial – we hated the idea – but many people were very pro, and indeed it does its job very well.
It was just that it was an architect making his statement in a completely different context. Either you like a mix of old and new or you don’t.
Verseilles is going through a mix phase, having had works by Jeff Koons and then by Murakami exhibited inside the great rooms of the building. It would be hard to clash more.
Apparently in brought in extra visitors, but I still think it was a gross indecency.