The Channel Tunnel - so easy to get to Paris
The beauty of the Channel Tunnel is that while everyone else was rushing on a Friday after work to grab their trains home, we were stood at St Pancras waiting for our 17.30 Eurostar to Paris.
There’s something wonderfully smug about that.
Popping to Paris is now so simple.
In just 2 hours 15 minutes you can be whisked from central London straight into the heart of Paris. So, one weekend in March 2013, that’s exactly what we did.
By the time we’d munched our M&S sandwiches, flicked through a magazine, listened to a few tunes and been mildly disturbed by the uncanny resemblance the 5‑year‑old French girl opposite me had to Michael Jackson, we were pulling into Gare du Nord.
A short metro ride later, we stepped out of the station and were greeted by a magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the black sky like a giant chandelier.
Anya practically peed her pants with excitement seeing it for the first time.
Sadly, my first time had been as a spotty, moody 15‑year‑old on a school trip where I was more interested in being cool than tourist attractions.
After the slickest hotel check‑in ever, we dumped our bags and marched the short 15‑minute walk to the tower. Plenty of photos followed as one of the world’s most iconic buildings stood before us in all its French glory.
Up the Tower and Down Again
We were up early the next morning and grabbed two croissants for breakfast – what else.
Back at the Eiffel Tower, we queued for the lift to the top viewing platform. After a surprisingly reasonable 14 Euros each, we were in the lift as it clunked and creaked its way up to the 290‑metre summit.
Until 1930 this was the world’s tallest building after opening in 1889. Today, with Dubai building the world’s biggest everything, if you relocated the Eiffel Tower to the Middle East it would look like Danny DeVito stood next to Arnie.
The problem with observation decks is that after five minutes of taking 360‑degree photos, you’re done. So, by 10am we were back down and ready to explore the rest of the city on this sunny but crisp day.
Parisian Classics
The sights of Paris roll off the tongue, assuming you can do it without spitting: Arc de Triomphe, Champs Élysées, Palais du Chaillot, Place de la Concorde.
We passed them all on our way to the 14th‑century Notre Dame, where free entry gave us a chance to admire the huge stained‑glass windows and gothic designs.
More sights followed. The Pompidou Centre, the Luxembourg Gardens, and a wonderful stroll around the narrow old streets of Île Saint‑Louis, a tiny island in the Seine connected by a bridge.
French Food Roulette
Soon it was time for food. We’d already indulged in a classic café lunch, and for dinner we randomly chose a restaurant after our first choice was fully booked.
Our moody waiter mumbled some French, brought over a giant chalkboard and propped it beside our table.
This was the menu.
In French.
Apart from “French Fries”, my basic French deserted me when I needed it most.
So, we both took a gamble and pointed at random items. Luck was on our side. I ended up with lamb shank and chorizo, and Anya got a beautiful steak. Sometimes blind ordering pays off.
Latin Quarter, Moulin Rouge and Sacré Coeur
After checking out the next morning, we headed to the Latin Quarter to wander old streets filled with cafés and street markets.
As we made our way back towards Gare du Nord, we stopped by the infamous Moulin Rouge and then climbed up to the beautiful Sacré Coeur, with its wonderful views across the city.
As darkness fell, and after a quick chocolate crêpe that no trip to Paris should ignore, our 48 hours were up.
Just as everyone back home was thinking about setting their alarms for Monday morning’s 8.05am train, we were boarding our 8.43pm train back to London.
A perfect little weekend escape.
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