24 hours in Paris.

12th Feb - Wedding Anniversary but it might have been an early (or late) Valentine – In Paris for 24 hours.

Paris by Eurostar from Bristol with an hotel and restaurant in St Germain is not the cheapest 'greenish' trip described in this blog.  

We set off with our bus passes at ten to nine in the morning.

The bus obligingly waited a minute or two (it was running ahead of schedule) to let us get on free on the stroke of nine. It took us down to the  Bristol City Centre, from where we could walk across Queen's Square along the line of only completely pedestrianised (until the 1980s) dual carriageway that I know, by way of the baste bridge over the floating harbour, past St Mary's Redcliffe (Queen Elizabeth's “finest Parish church  in all England”) to Brunel's grand Temple Meads Station.

Reasonably cheap advance tickets (with a senior Railcard) took us to Paddington on the 10 o'clock train. The travelling chef (selected trains on First Great western) tempted us to a breakfast of for instance salmon and scrambled eggs. The fare, booked a mouth in advance was at £17-50 each - the cheapest sub-£10 tickets seem very few and far between now. It included the Underground to St Pancras (“sonponcrra” as the French so happily say it - somehow they were never so comfortable with “ooaaterrloo”). St Pancras, where  France infiltrates London

 with a Champagne bar and 'Paul' patisserie is where we joined the Eurostar after an airport styled luggage and body scan (but much quicker and more relaxed - after all the size of a bomb needed to derail a train is vastly larger than the small devises capable of wreaking devastation on a plane). Swift French (and Schengen) passport control left us in the calm brick vaulted beer barrel cellar of Victorian St Pancras - a  pleasant place to write a postcard and buy Paris metro tickets, with which they give you a free map of Paris for the asking.

The Eurostar train itself, showing its age now with its grimy exterior and rather cramped second class seats, is still the fastest land based object in all  Britain.

 It whisked us through tunnels, a dismal hit of  Essex, snowy attractive Kent and into the Channel Tunnel  itself, as we washed down a lumpfish caviar and quiche picnic with a half bottle of Moet Chandon (well it was a wedding anniversary!). Rail Europ's £59 January special offer return felt even better value as we sped through snow covered Northern France to reach the Gare du Nord just before five in the evening. We had given ourselves in Bristol and London ample transfer times. Even so it was a massive improvement on the old rail-sea-rail times which until 1992 had hardly improved since Baedeker's Paris guide of 1904 suggested about 12 hours to Paris via Calais or  Boulogne and that was just from London with a calm sea - not guaranteed in February!

Paris outside the Gare du Nord at five on a weekday evening is hectic but walking in towards the centre soon took us to the classic Parisian covered market of St Quentin, unchanged in form, though I guess a lot more salubrious than in 1904. 

A cornucopia of fish, flowers, fruits, vegetables even apparently unseasonable chanterelle wild mushrooms (from Portugal) told us we were indeed in Paris.

In the dull, wintry and fading light, Paris lured us down the Rue du Faubourg de St Denis past the grand arch of Ludovico Magna (Louis XIV) and into the Rue St Denis - still medieval, still with a few fur-stolled ‘ladies’ on the comers of the street, seeking the dangerous second glance. Through the much changed Les Halles - no more the great canopied bustle of the central markets which still drew visitors for onion soup in the early 1970s, described in the 1904 Baedeker (p188) as .”a vast structure chiefly of iron, and covered with zinc...erected by the architect Baltard in 1851.” Onion soup is still available but not at the price that market traders used to demand.

In forty minutes walk from the Gare du Nord, we reach the Seine and the Ile de la Cite with the delicate spike of the Sainte Chapelle peeping out from within the fortress of the Conciergerie. To this day it is the Paris Police headquarters and the Palais de Justice; in the twilight the fine elaborate ceilings and musty leather backed rows of books suggest ever prosperous lawyers occupying the ‘grand etage’ (first floor) of the ancient buildings.

One more bridge part of Henri IV’s Pont Neuf took us to the left bank and the twisted narrow streets of St Germain, crammed with amazing designer shop windows. Only the prices make the artwork – terracotta Far Eastern camels, deeply woven Persian rugs, glowing illustrated art books – less than immediately tempting. One good, quirky, playing card

 and African travel decorated hotel has double en- suite rooms for less than €100(though even nicer ones tempting presented for €120). The Hotel Nesle (pronounced N e l) attracts more Belgians and Americans than Brits – perhaps because it can only be booked by phone within a month of arrival. With painted rooms and a large secluded garden and utter silence, it is a delight.

The delight was re-doubled at the small modernist restaurant, 'cut above a bistro' (as the Rough Guide 2010 puts it). With its 'Easyjet' orange bold facade it is at its most attractive for lunch in daylight but the food was no less excellent by candle light. 'Le Christine’ just round the corner from the Hotel Nesle makes a fine combination.

Next day, all Paris was at hand before we caught the 6pm train back to London and home to Bristol by 11pm. We had time to window shop and more to find an unusual exhibition at the Pinacotheque near the Madeleine, to have a late, leisurely but not expensive lunch in the little streets near the Pont Mich

 and enjoy a few minutes in inimitable Shakespeare and Co. Bookshop – we might have chosen a thousand other things to do in our 24 hours in Paris.