Kim and I had a relaxed afternoon and evening mooching around Paris the day after Le Tour ended. Kim the extreme cyclist from Austin was a complete stranger when we were assigned to the same room in St Lary Soulan; by Paris we were happy to share a walking adventure together and split the costs of an extra night in our spiffy hotel near L’Opera House.
We started by giving ourselves a little over an hour to speed shop in Galeries Lafayette. Then we began the slow climb up to the Sacre Coeur basilica.
My friend Jane from the Alps gave us a recommendation for a restaurant near there for dinner. (She had met the papa of the chef on her travels and dined there earlier in the week.) We stopped as our whimsy directed including a wonderful toy store. Eventually our hunger was prioritized over shopping.
We climbed and climbed until we finally found the restaurant, La Cremaillere 1900. The interior of the restaurant was beautiful (admired on the way to the loo) and all of the seating was outside in the courtyard on Henri Boulard. We enjoyed our meal and a glass of rose and then moved on to see the basilica.
The Sacre Coeur is very popular more for the view of Paris from the grounds than as a place of worship. I waited for Kim in a seat near the back and watched as people ignored the sign of “Silence, respectful dress, and no photos.” There was even a guy with a Heineken beer bottle cruising through with his family (sold outside on the steps by ambitious “entrepreneurs”). We walked past hundreds of people already waiting on the steps for the sunset.
We sauntered back to the hotel and packed for an early morning departure. I will never be a Francophile and after four visits to Paris I am satiated. After all of the frustrations traveling in France it was fitting that I had one last experience.
The hotel doorman hailed a cab for me and said “Gare du Nord” to the driver. I jumped in and noticed the drivers earbuds and did not think much of it until we started driving down the Boulevard that parallels the River Seine. Hmm. I do not know Paris that well but I did not think we were headed in the right direction. It took a few minutes to dig out my Paris map and establish that we were headed to Gare de Lyon not the train station for the Eurostar chunnel. I asked him if he was headed the right way to Gare de Nord. The driver removes his earbuds and says “Gare de Lyon”. By this time I had no time to spare to catch my train. Ideally we would be pulling up to the station in this moment. I probably shrieked, “NO! Gare du Nord!” He began to insist that the doorman said Gare de Lyon. We argued back and forth while he turned towards the right train station. He said he would only charge me 15 Euros and hurry as fast as possible to Gare du Nord. We pulled up at 9:05 and my train was leaving at 9:15. It took a few minutes to figure out where to find the security entrance and Pierre informed me that I was too late. Fortunately because I was there before the train departed I could get a new ticket for the next train at 10:15 at no extra charge. Huge sigh of relief. This misunderstanding with the taxi driver could have happened anywhere, yet the driver never apologized; he just kept blaming the doorman. So French.
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