Vaucluse Dreamer

The last 48 hours in Paris has been an absolute whirl, and after an early walk through the streets of the city to the Gare Du Nord this morning, we’re now on a plane, ready to fly to Naples for the next stop in our mad little birthday trip. 

I think it would be fair to say that our romantic meet up at the Gare de Lyon didn’t go quite as I had imagined it, not just because we weren’t characters in a 1940s Hollywood movie following a script.

It was all going so well, my train was on time and Andy had arrived at the station & had messaged to say he was waiting by the gate. So far so good. Even when there was a slight delay, as we waited to shunt forward so that the doors could open, Andy messaged to say that he could see the train and all being well, we’d be alongside the platform shortly. 

A few minutes later the train edged forward, and we were off. I had sharpened my elbows, tightened the buckles on my boots and within moments I was ploughing my way along the platform, dodging the skittering wheely cases, and shimmying my way around people walking at a snail’s pace towards the gate. I was like a little gazelle (OK, probably not), but I skipped and danced my way through, finally reaching the gate and pushing through onto the concourse, scanning for Andy’s face, ready to re-enact a ‘Love Actually’ style reunion.

But he wasnt there. It didn’t matter where I looked, I couldn’t see him. My heart sank. Had there been a last minute hitch? Had he disappeared into a warp in the ‘space-time continuum’ or had he just decided he’d rather explore Paris by himself?

Of course not. A frantic WhatsApp message or two later, it transpired that he was waiting in Hall 3, whilst I had arrived in Hall 1. Even the best laid plans can go wrong.

The next few minutes were more like a scene from a farce than a romantic great, with Andy trying to find his way to the right place, eventually dashing outside to find his way back into the right Hall. But all’s well that ends well and I saw him walking towards me, with a broad grin on his face  and the happy reunion finally happened. 

So back together again, we walked out of the station into the pouring rain and dashed through the puddles to a favourite coffee shop ‘Back in Black’, where we gratefully sank into our chairs, ordered coffees and finally started to catch up, whilst our wet hair dropped down our backs.

Once we had seen that the rain had stopped, we wandered out and started to amble our way through Paris. I’m sure that most people come to the city with a fixed plan of where they want to go, what they want to see and even where they want to eat. All we knew was that we had tickets for the Catacombs at 2.15, and were meeting friends for supper in Montmartre at 7. Apart from that the day was ours to do and go where we wanted, so we did what we enjoy most and just walked.

We found ourselves walking through the stunning Place Des Vosges with its elegant buildings set around the small park, everything dripping with water after the recent rain…

We caught glimpses of beautiful little courtyards, havens of peace just a few steps away from the bustle of the city…

And stood to admire the beautiful architecture as we wandered along…

We sat by The Seine, walking along the banks, before passing Notre Dame, which is still shrouded in scaffolding, undergoing a huge restoration, after the devastating fire. In fact the chandeliers from the magnificent building are currently being restored near us, at the workshops of the Lustrerie Mathieu at Gargas, just outside Apt…

Over a few hours, we made our way slowly through the city towards the Catacombs, arriving for our appointed time to explore the world of the dead that is hidden below the city streets.

It may not be everyone’s idea of a stop on a trip to Paris, but it’s something that we’ve had on our radar for a while, so it seemed the perfect time to visit. The Catacombs are part of the 300 kilometres of tunnels that run below Paris, old quarries that had undermined the city to such an extent that houses had started to collapse into them.

Following a huge engineering project in the 18th century, the tunnels were made structurally sound and became home to the bones of millions of Parisiens, who had been buried in the mass graves at cemeteries in the city. A massive operation took place in the late 1700s to exhume and relocate the bones to this new space, where they created intricate designs, which soon became a tourist attraction.

The network of tunnels is incredible and I was taken aback by the sheer size and scale of the ossuary, and the effort & care that had been put into its design, over 200 years ago.

It was a fascinating and thought provoking hour underground. Who says romance is dead? 

Once back on the surface, we took the metro back to Montmartre to find our Air BnB for the night and to put our feet up for an hour, before heading out for supper. 

We are normally happiest walking, but found negotiating our way through the metro stations easy, thanks to the Paris Metro App, with its simple to use route planner and map, showing us the easiest and quickest  ways to get to where we wanted to be.

After a brief sit down, we headed out again, taking the steps above the apartment to the top of Montmartre and the Sacré Coeur, which looked spectacular against the cobalt blue of the early evening sky.

To be honest, we had imagined that in January, we would be almost on our own there, perhaps just a handful of people braving the winter chill to watch the sunset from the plaza infront of the Basilica. But no, it was more like Brighton on a Bank Holiday, with the steps filled with people and even tour parties dutifully following the guide, holding a flag aloft as they snaked through the crowds.

That said, it is still a very beautiful place to watch the evening settle over the city, with the dark skies behind and the peach, apricot and golden tones of the sunset beyond the stunning sight of the Tour Eiffel, sparking with lights.

We eventually tore ourselves away from the sight, wandering down the flights of steps and on for supper with our friends in a little restaurant, guarded by Chico the ferocious (rather portly) Chihuahua.

By the time we had walked back to the flat, we had walked 14.5 km around the city streets and footsore, we collapsed into bed and were asleep within minutes.

The following day dawned bright and cold, so we headed out for breakfast and to research the flea markets taking place during the day, whilst we munched our croissants.

There was a large event at the Rue de Bretagne, so we mapped a route and after coffee caught the Metro across to a station nearby.

The brocante filled the streets and squares & we enjoyed browsing, happy in the knowledge that we couldn’t buy anything as nothing else will fit in our backpacks. But it was still a very enjoyable way to pass a morning.

We also found our way into the Marché Des Enfants Rouges, with its amazing selection of street food stalls and fruit, veg and seafood stalls too. We were unfortunately slightly too early for lunch, but it’s certainly somewhere we’ll return to, when we next find ourselves in Paris.

From the brocante, we walked a route that took us to and past so many of the traditional tourist sites of the city

We walked past the bouquinistes and ambled along The Seine…

Passing through the vibrant and bustling Marais…

To the Louvre and through the gardens to the Place de la Concorde

And up the Champs Elysées to the Arc De Triomphe

By the time we had walked out for supper and explored the heart of Montmartre, we had once again walked ourselves to a standstill having covered 16.5km.

So on my birthday, in the most romantic city in the world, we were in bed and snoring gently by 9pm, which was pretty much perfect

I know many people will say that we missed so much and should have gone into the museums, or taken in the view from the Tour Eiffel, whilst sipping champagne, eating in the best restaurants too. But we’re old enough now to feel confident enough to say that’s not us…

We love just walking around, looking up at the buildings, taking in the atmosphere and getting under the skin of the places we visit. I suppose that’s why we enjoy our cycling so much, as we just explore at our own pace, seeing and experiencing a place on a whole different level . And it always leaves us a reason to return too

It’s been a busy, mad but wonderful couple of days and having started this on the plane, we’re now in Italy and on a bus taking us down to the more laid-back atmosphere of Sorrento..

That’s if we make it, with the driving we’re seeing around us

But if we make it, let’s see where the next few days take us .