Despair is an international language

What do you do when it is the start of London Fashion Week -well go to Paris of course! Whilst the excursion wasn't a deliberate attempt to escape LFW, it was a much needed escape from London. Paris has space and an ease that London does not offer. London does offer so much but for a true wander with little to interrupt un bon repas, a stroll and browsing then Paris is the place.

A day trip on Eurostar makes for a pleasant day out and we choose to have a wander around and lunch in Montmartre, then get the metro to the Louvre for a walk along the Seine crossing over to the Left Bank, ending up in the 4th arrondissement at the Ile Saint -Louis. The city bikes are much used and the traffic seems to allow more for cycling in Paris than London. There is more impatience in Paris (horn blowing) but less speed on the streets. The Seine allows for a great backdrop for wedding photos - imagine that on the Thames! And somehow the champagne bubbles flow more...

The only cautionary tale is taxis. London cabs are fantatstic, they are never a moment away but in Paris taxis aren't so frequent or available. Remember Carrie in the final SATC programme stuck trying to get a taxi! In typical London or even New York fashion, we though a taxi would be the simplest thing to get us back to the Gard du Nord. No not a chance. It didn't help that there was a gay pride march taking place. We made a desperate lunge for the metro but the ticket queue was enough to defeat this option as we had half an hour to get the train. Finally rushing through the back streets, I managed to forget all my French and resort to a desperate face and appeal in English to a taxi driver to help us get there. Luckily for me the lady in the back was happy assist and allowed us into the taxi to for the driver to get us to the station after he's dropped her off. Once back in the land of the not desperate, I could converse with the nice old lady who informed me the march was for gay pride and it had made things worse for getting a taxi. She had seen the despair on my face (I couldn't bear the thought of missing the train) and of course allowing another person into ones taxi was just like Africa! Ah European colonialism...








Salut!