Did a lightening tour
of Paris on the
way back from the awards ceremony at Caen of Chansons sans Frontières.
Actually, the only way to get back to Lyon from Caen
is via Paris .
And when I learned that the train station (Gare de Lyon) is just a stones throw
from Champs Élysée, there was no way I could miss using the time between trains to check out
the sights – even though Blandine hated the idea. Blandine hates Paris , but for me, it has
always been this mystical place that I had to see once before I die. Blandine
said we would do Paris
later, properly, when she has vacations. But what I say is, who has seen the
rain? At the rate Blandine and I fight, there is no guarantee that day will
ever come. So I hopped out of Gare de Lyon, dragging a muttering and cursing
Blandine to knock off one more item from the list of things to do before I die.
The most beautiful
city in the world… The city of dreams… My lasting impression of Paris is cold, grim faces
packed into the metro. Paris is the only place
in France
where I saw cold, grim faces.
We walked all the way
from Gare de Lyon to the Eiffel Tower , along the Seine, taking in all the bridges
over the Seine .
I did so want to see
the bridges, having seen a lovely program on TV5Monde on the bridges of Paris – les ponts de
Paris. In reality the bridges were… well… bridges. Possibly they look more
romantic in bright sunlight. I had the misfortune of seeing them in a cold,
gray drizzle.
We made detours on our
riverine route for Notre Dame, Louvre and Champs Élysée.
Notre Dame and the Louvre were
overflowing with tourists – half Indian,
half Chinese. Between swatting off Nigerian touts selling Eiffel Tower
I’d been dreaming of
seeing chic Parisiennes clicking down Champs Élysée on stilettos, possibly smoking slim, disdainful
cigarettes. I saw hoards of badly dressed tourists eating hamburgers from the
lone McDonalds outlet. Champs Élysée looked a bit like good old MG Road in
Bangalore. Possibly a bit bigger, very possibly a bit cleaner. With great
difficulty Blandine pointed out a chic Parisienne with a Hermes bag, which
Blandine said would have set her (or her dad or her lover) back by nothing less
than 20,000 euros. It was a kind of hideous red contraption – like a leather
shopping bag. I swear I could have gotten the babe an identical bag at Chandni
Chowk in old Delhi
for something like 300 rupees. They would even have put a Hermes stamp on it,
for an extra 50 rupees. But I enjoyed going down the side streets and checking
out the embassies and Prez Holland’s joint in Élysée palace.
After that we had a
cold lunch from an excellent Boulangerie down a shaded side street, away from the
touristy areas. That was one part of my Paris
trip I really enjoyed. I had a Hot Dog à la France
– as remote from the standard US
version as a chiwawa is from a mutt hound. A crisp baguette with a grilled Toulouse sausage with
camembert. Followed up with a coffee éclair. Blandine had a big chocolate
meringue bombshell kind of thing.
And then just enough
time to catch the metro back to Gare de Lyon to catch the TGV to Lyon .
And was Paris all I expected it
to be?
I dunno… I guess it
was a bit of a disappointment. Possibly I was in a blue funk after the
excitement of the awards ceremony. Or possibly it was the gray clouds and
constant dull, cold drizzle that made the whole experience a trifle unromantic.
Or possibly it was Blandine going through the whole exercise with the general
air of a schoolboy undergoing punishment.
Or very possibly I was
expecting too much. I suppose no city on Earth could live up to the kind of
expectations I had of Paris .
Here is the compulsory
photo of me posing before the Eiffel Tower , to prove I’ve been to Paris .
