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Published: April 30th 2008
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Ooh, nasty! I'm waking up in a train which is pulling into it's final stop, a large station ("Gare d'Austerlitz", for those of you who will be impressed by my knowledge of French words) which is cold, about 7:30 am and is full of people going to work on this Friday the 18th of April. I have spent the night curled up on 2 seats (check 2 entries back for picture) and sleeping rather well, all things considered, but that may be on account of a totally natural 100 percent organic mild tranquiliser that doctor Lindon administered earlier on in the journey. The same kind of thing they give to people who are afraid of flying, which makes sense, because I now go into a state of panic when I hear the term "night train".
Paris is turning it on for us. The drizzle and damp that is. All the same, as we walk to our host's apartment along the mighty Seine it becomes apparent we are in a very grand old city indeed. It's a similar feel to being in Berlin, but the architects in charge were probably Gauls rather than Goths.
The day begins to clear fortunately,
not so much sunny as not likely to rain, so after stashing our bags we embark on our around Paris in one day walk. This may seem like an impossible task, but we dont know this yet, and so we set off filled with enthusiasm towards, where else, the Eiffel Tower. Or maybe I should say big Eiffel Tower and thousands of smaller cast iron ones being sold illegally by annoying mobile souvenir peddlers. The best bit is when the Police arrive and they all take flight, running hell for leather in the other direction with their tower effigies clanking wildly. Maybe it's part of the daily routine, as it definitely adds a drama aspect to something which is otherwise quite static.
But anyway, next on the list is a big old round-about with an archway to match. This is another of those chaotic round-abouts that is far too big and has too many streets running into it, just like the one in Nijmegan, and would be better suited by some other traffic control method. The only problem is that there's a dirty great Arc de Triomphe in the middle of it and it's a bit of an icon,
Uhh, Lindo and me...
standing in front of the Eiffel tower. We got another tourist to take this one. First time we've done that so they'll probably just keep putting up with chaos. Works for Rome. We decide not to climb to the top because they want money for that, and instead take pictures of the giant 360 degree panoramic print they have on the wall in the ticket office. It's just like being there, except sunnier, not a stair climbed and free. What were they thinking? They must be losing tons of business!
So then off down the Avenue des Champs Elysees, through hordes of tourists even at this time of the year, towards The Louvre. Although by the time we get there, I'm so knackered from all the walking that I'm seriously questioning if we should go in at all. We finally settle on the drive by approach, which worked so well for us in the Guggenheim, and enter. There's only one small problem with attempting a drive by Louvreing, it's bloody massive! We have become arted out by about the one and a half hour mark which is about the time we come across the Mona Lisa. She's in a fortress these days, the closest you can get is about 10 metres away if you're prepared to push your way
through the other avid pilgrims. She's like the Mecca of the art world...
The remaining hour or so is kind of spent in a relative daze, almost lost actually, as everythime we come to a location finder we are no-where near where we think we are! We finally find an escape route and made it to the outside world again. The moral to this paragraph is underestimate the Louvre at your peril!
After finding something to eat that we can actually afford - not easy to do in Paris it seems, must be why they're all so skinny - we board a train for Versailles, where we are going to stay the night. Nick, our host, who is half French and half Kiwi, has another tiny apartment here. He also knows of a pub just down the road where the replay of the Crusaders and the Chiefs game is playing. Choice! If you are a Chiefs fan that is. Oh well, Versailles looks nice in the morning anyway, and we can walk smoke ( French still smoke indoors) out of our clothes and the heaviness out of our crushed Cantabrian hearts with a sojourn around the royal palace. I'm
not sure what they call it, but it's the one where the French royal family finally came to grief at the beginning of the Revolution and it's absolutely gigantic.
The people responsible for the palace upkeep seem keen to paint the tops of lots of their important domes and monuments a bright, metallic gold. I guess it's meant to make things look even more grand, but it's only paint and any old person could apply such a finish to the roof of their house, but they don't, it's way too tacky! I mean, if it was actually gold leaf or solid gold then that would be completely different. As it stands, it looks a bit like they've been down to the Warehouse and found that the outdoor ornaments in gold are on special this week, and unfortunately the more elegant muted tones have sold out.
It was quite nice being in Versailles, as it seemed more of a small town for a change rather than a big city, and we probably managed to walk around it's key features easily in one day. The sun broke through as well, which always helps, and the afternoon warmed up quickly, so
by the time we were walking home again, legs aching and blisters forming on toes, we were down to tee shirts. All around us, the residents were stepping out, playing petanque, walking their dogs and making the most of the early spring. At this point we were called back in to Paris by Nick, who wanted to cook us one of his favorite meals.
This meal turned out to be duck, but duck from a can and swimming in fat! It sure tasted good, but as for the GI rating, I think it's off the scale. No worries, I'll have some wholesome low GI museli to get me back on track in the morning.
So Sunday turns up, and it's time to leave Paris and the continent behind, we're headed for the UK. We have an over complex itinerary today, first off it's the Metro to the Gare d'Austerlitz, then onto a hi-speed train to Brussels. Now, I should point out that on this journey, we are in First Class. We're leaving the common folk crammed into their tiny seats with their chickens and their goats and moving up to the world of the high rollers. We're getting
airline style service as well. When we get to Brussels we have about 4 hours before our next travel commitment. So we do a drive by Brussels: leave the train station (in a gritty part of town), walk up to the town centre, take photos for proof and then walk back again. Been there, done it. Next we have a plane to catch which is not actually going anywhere near Heathrow: no, it's going to Frankfurt. From Frankfurt, we can fly to London. I might just point out that flying is not quite as fun as it used to be. I'm quite over having to take off my belt, my shoes, my hat, my jacket with the zip and submit to a patdown. We have to go through this process twice today, as well as walk round massive airports where they keep changing the gate numbers on us.
At least we had something to amuse ourselves with, it is our mission to find the most expensive public internet points in the world. It started in Beyonne, at €4.50 per hour, rose to €6.00 per hour in Versailles, kept climbing in the Brussels train station at €8.00 per hour, got
half way down, half way down
the Avenue des Champs-Elysees... to a ridiculous high in the Brussels airport where we thought it just couldn't top €12.00 per hour, but then no, the meter exploded in Frankfurt, maxing out at €21.00 per hour!
Onwards to London! There they have a mighty underground, people who can speak English and Pies.
Olza
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Nick
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Golden domes
Hey boys, sweet to recall the swimming-in-fat duck, and happy you liked it ! I know it's a rather unusual dish for Kiwis, but it definitely is a big thing here in France. Anyway, just so you know, every golden bit of Versailles (all right, not every bit, but most of it), is authentic gold leaf... I even had a go at touching (and distastefully shredding to bits) one of those leafy golden things as a kid. 'round here in Versailles, it's the real stuff most of the time - the government has given the Versailles domain a special authorisation to use it anywhere they can (afford it). and really sad you didn't talk about the stupid rugby song and pastis-drinking pub experience, hehe. see you around boys. cheers, Nick