Sunday: The night train arrived in Paris from Berlin on time at 09:23, at Gare de L’Est. It had been a good journey: two of us started from Berlin, two others joined the compartment at Hannover. Two of my German companions spoke excellent English, making up for my lack of German, and we shared beer and coffee and talked until late. I slept pretty well.
At Gare de L’Est we were greeted by many soldiers patrolling the platform with automatic weapons, and my German friend and I agreed it felt decidedly threatening. Under what circumstances would they open fire on passengers? Would they shoot to kill? We said our goodbyes and left the station quickly. I walked the 300m to Gare du Nord to leave my suitcase, ready for my Eurostar at the end of the afternoon.
My original intention had been to catch the 13:04 Eurostar to London, which would have been ideal for the onward journey home, and would have given me a couple of hours of modest sightseeing in Paris – in particular I wanted to visit the church of St Eustache, near Les Halles. But when I came to book (over three months ago) I found the price would be rather over budget at £103.00. Later trains were £103.00, then an incredible £223.00, £223.00 again, then £103.00. Only at 16:43 and 17:13 did the price come down to a more manageable £69.50. These are Seniors’ fares: for normal people that £103.00 becomes £166.50. On the £223.00 trains it’s actually a few pounds cheaper to travel in Premier class; go figure. In the end I’d chosen the 17:13.
Breakfast looked incredibly expensive, even in the station: the €2.00 cappuccino in Berlin is €4.00 in Paris. I walked further north-west for 15 minutes towards Montmartre, stopping at the steps up to the Sacre Coeur. I had hoped to repeat some of the black-and-white photos I'd taken when I was last here 35 years ago, but the place was heaving with people, in particular with the rather dodgy-looking guys hassling people to buy bags and miniature Eiffel Towers, and other dodgy-looking people trying to get you to sign something: your life away, probably.
So I plotted the straightest course I could to St Eustache and set off on the 2.5km walk, seeing quite a range of Sunday morning Parisian life on the way. The weather was grey and it rained for a while. My interest in the church stems from a CD I bought a few years ago which was recorded here on the 1989 Van den Heuval organ, which combines the characteristics of both Baroque and symphonic instruments, and is particularly suited to modern works. I heard it briefly at the end of Mass. Outside the interesting architecture was difficult to photograph due to massive building works, which I think will hide the distant view of the church; and the miserable weather.
But the sun did come out as I approached the Louvre, via the Cour Carrée. The Pyramide hadn't even been thought of last time I was here, and it was good to see it at last. Naturally I appreciated a fellow photographer stepping in front of me just as I'd lined up my shot:
I sat for half an hour in the Tuileries gardens, slightly away from the maelstrom of Parisian crowds, but the sun went and it felt quite cold, and in any case I was suffering a lack-of-food crisis (and an only-got-a-50-euro-note crisis). So after a lot of searching I found a pleasant and affordable snack bar, then travelled by the RER back to Gare du Nord. The Eurostar check-in was unbelievably slow and tedious and chaotic, but eventually I could sit back and relax for two and a half hours. Back in the UK and travelling through Kent, Orange dropped my phone call eight times; and that's without the tunnels. And now, back home.
[If you've been following this trip you will have noticed that blogging has been running a day or two late recently, for which I apologise; sometimes there just isn't time, sometimes my brain has shut down. Now the trip has ended, but I hope to continue blogging about various aspects of it from time to time, so do please check back.]
