The Moulin Rouge

Paris looks its best at night. The city is beautiful anyway, but when the sky is dark and the best of its buildings are lit up they really come into their own.

We left Lyon on a late morning train that got us back to the capital in time for lunch overlooking the Seine, a walk down to the Statue of Liberty and then the metro out to the Bois de Boulogne. Not been there in ages, but I do remember the shady ladies hanging around in the trees as they tout for business. I’m quite glad we were on Velibs which means we could ride away faster than they could totter in their impossibly high heels.

I say ‘quite glad’ because it wasn’t an entirely good experience hiring bikes. In principle it’s a great idea. There are bike stations all over the city so you can check one out at the start of your trip and then check it back in somewhere else when you’re done. The bikes are easy to ride and well maintained, but the actual check in/out system is a seriously convoluted process.

Or perhaps the translations were just a bit off.

Either way it took us ages to get Rich’s bike logged back into the system and even with mine we had to log out and then back in again to be sure, so I don’t think we’d do that again.

We were glad to be rid of them by the time we were done, and jumped on a metro back into the centre for dinner.

Pyramid at the Louvre

Neither of us was particularly hungry after a week of good food, but we headed back into the Latin Quarter for a cheap menu and found a little restaurant where they had cats roaming around under the tables then shot off with our cameras as soon as we had paid for one last walk around the city.

Up past Notre Dame, pass by the Pompidou Centre, down to the Louvre to squat down by the pools as everyone else lay on their edges and looked up at the stars, and then home by way of Montmarte, which seemed to have turned off its lights, so no photo opportunities up there.

Notre Dame

All very touristy.

Saturday – today – a walk through the flea markets and lunch and a train home. A bit of a shocking return to reality. After quiet, comfy TGVs we were back on the Eurostar with badly behaved British children running up and down the aisles, British parents leaving over the backs of their seats to talk to each other and a woman with a very flimsy grasp of French translating her paper’s obituaries into English.

Would rather be back in Lyon.

Pompidou Centre

Last time I was in Lyon was 2003. We were chasing some lost train tickets and only discovered the best bits – the proper old town – a day before leaving. This time, forewarned and forearmed, that’s where we spent a lot of our time.

We walked and walked and walked, which is probably harder to do in Lyon than it is in Paris because it’s so much more hilly. You have the silk district – Croix Rousse – and the hill up to Fourviere and the huge church (accurately described as a dead elephant with its legs up in the air), each of which require some hefty calf work.

So anyway, we arrived on Tuesday after the kind of train journey you’d never get at home. Comfortable seats, quiet carriages, perfectly behaved kids, a service that runs according to some kind of timetable… it was almost a shame to arrive. Particularly as the areas around Lyon’s stations are so dumpy.

Anyhow, we checked into our room and went exploring. Who would have known that Lyon would be such a catch for Art Deco buildings. I remembered the old Pathe cinema, of course, but look at this friendly building.

Oh, hai!

That sits out at the end of the little skyscraper district on the Part Dieu side of the river where you can live in great looking buildings like this:

Art Deco architecture, Lyon

And in the evenings you can take the metro into town and watch a film at this great-looking cinema, complete with a golden crowing cockerel on the top of its tower:

Pathe cinema, Lyon

We didn’t do that, of course. We were too busy walking and eating. Lyon is rightly famous for its gastronomy and we had some excellent meals, but it’s pretty lame if you’re a proper vegetarian. I ate fish twice a day every day. Not that that was a problem as it was universally excellent. We ate lunches outside in the sun on the huge Place Bellecour, and dinners outside in the old town on wobbly little tables perched precariously on the street cobbles.

We did give in to our aching feet once – when we took the funicular up the hill to the basilica. You can’t help but notice this enormous white building as it dominates the skyline, looking down on the city and the river. It’s a cool refuge from the sun at the height of the day, and right by the Roman ruins, which have stood over the city for a couple of thousand years and are in surprisingly good condition. Particularly when you consider they’re free to enter and you can clamber all over them (although you do get shouted at if you climb up anything properly perpendicular).

Traboule courtyard, Lyon

Highlights of Lyon? Rather shamefully it was probably the food, which I didn’t think I’d say as we trained out to Les Halles, which is supposed to show off the city’s culinary delights but fell short of the same in Nimes.

Still, pike souffle can do a lot to win you over. Particularly when it’s followed by Terrine de Pain Perdu Brioche – effectively a very naughty, rich, sticky bread pudding made with brioche. I need to find out how you make it.

The Arc du Triomphe, seen from La Defense

Last year was the first in about 15 that I didn’t make it to Paris, so it was good to get back – even if it was just for a few days either side of heading down to Lyon.

We had initially been planning on a trip to the ballet. Dad’s suggestion on account of the fact that there was something he wanted to see and we had never been, so he came up by train from the south and we did the same from the north via the tunnel and we met in the middle.

Without any ballet tickets.

Turns out it’s incredibly difficult to get your hands on any as there are all sorts of restrictions on who can buy what and when. There is even one day in the booking cycle when it is only open to foreigners and non Paris residents which strikes me as a bit unfair.

Opera Garnier where we would have, but didn’t, see the ballet

Rather unfortunately it coincided with Eurovision. I hadn’t realised this when I booked the train – stupidly – so our first job on arriving on Saturday evening was to find our hotel, dump our bags and then race to the Marais, which seemed the most likely place to find anywhere showing it.

But you know what? It turns out French bars aren’t all that hot on Eurovision. We found two showing it, but only one had the sound turned on. The other was showing the pictures on a telly in the corner with boppy music over the top.

Anyhow, we holed up in the one bar that was showing both halves of the programme and gently sweated through two and a bit hours of songs before hot-footing it back to the hotel for the voting.

Watching is back we didn’t miss much on the interval act although we would like to have heard the UK commentary as it became more and more abundantly clear that we were heading for last place again. Can’t say I’m entirely surprised: the performance was fine but the song didn’t really grab me the way it did Rich.

I wish I understood more of what the commentators were saying as they got very giggly at the national judges giving their scores.

Rooftops of Paris

Anyhow, we met dad the next morning and spent the next couple of days with him, eating cheap meals on the Rue Mouffetard (Bistrot Gourmand, since you ask – €9 for three courses) and training it out to La Defense, which Rich hadn’t seen before. Last time I was there I was late for a meeting at the top of the Grande Arche after my hotel TV, which I’d set as the alarm, helpfully came on muted. Next thing I know, frantic calls to see where I was and several arguments with taxi drivers who were averse to the very idea of heading towards Defense in the rush hour because of la circulation.

No such trouble this time around, leaving us time for a slow walk east through the tall buildings back to the metro by which we hot-footed it to Le Printemps for tea under the dome.

Well, that’s changed somewhat. Gone are the nice old mirrors and the brassware. It’s been considerably moderened up since I was last there ten or so years back and I’m not sure it’s for the better. The one thing they haven’t changed, of course, is that glorious glass roof, and the addition of mirrors on the tables, which I don’t remember from before, is a good one as it means you can easily look up by looking down, so no need to crane.

The dome inside Printemps