Paris in the Wet

by Rachel Kruft Welton

In a fit of madness, we booked a trip to Paris. Whilst the destination in itself is not so unusual, we felt it to be a challenge as we were taking our 15 month old twins on the Eurostar. My husband Nick and I booked it, then looked at each other and said ‘Aargh! What have we done?’ In fact, the travelling itself was not a problem. 

The Eurostar was notable only for the impressively overpriced food they served. I queued 20 minutes for the tiniest box of wafer-thin ‘fries’ you can imagine. It worked out that each ‘fry’ cost 1 Franc (about 10p) and a box wouldn’t satisfy one, let alone two hungry toddlers!

My French friend Steffie collected us from the station and gave us the first of several unguided tours of every side street in the vicinity of the hotel. Often, we would see the hotel at the wrong end of a one-way street, only to pass it again some minutes later from a different direction, this time viewed down a pedestrian only access. We did get there eventually and the Hotel Campanile near the Bastille was friendly and quiet. They provided two cots at no extra cost and the room was en suite - an essential with mobile and inquisitive young children. Breakfast consisted of an extensive buffet, with two handy high chairs available.

We buggied for miles. The first stop was a delightful square called the Place des Vosges where the kids had a go on the slide and I enjoyed the fountains and fantastic architecture that is the trademark of Paris. I love the white stone buildings and the beautiful mix of balconies and shutters.

Next stop was the Notre Dame, which we passed without entering. The square was busy and the steps (with a double buggy) were daunting. Les jumeaux were the centre of attention wherever we went. They even had their photo taken by a Japanese tourist! Shortly after this, the twins fell asleep, so we raced off to the Louvre whilst things were quiet!

The Louvre is a large museum housing a wide collection of art of all types. Of course we had to see the famous Mona Lisa, but we didn’t stop. I was much more taken with the statues, and particularly smitten by the statue of the Three Graces, which has long been a favourite. The children (once again awake) also enjoyed the statues. My daughter liked a life-size one of a whippet, and my son liked squeezing into the small space between a plinth and the wall. They had a great time.

The onset of heavy rain meant that our walk up the Champs Elysees was more like a trudge up the Damp Elysees. Whilst Paris may be romantic in the spring, a sou’wester is recommended. We ended up at L’Arc de Triomphe, which is always impressive, though hardly accessible under the circumstances. The Tour Eiffel beckoned wetly in the distance with its head in the clouds, but we were all tired and decided to attempt the return to the Bastille by Metro.

The Parisian Metro, unlike the London Underground, has no barriers for letting large items like bicycles or buggies through. This means, in effect, that you have to give your active toddler to a complete stranger whilst you try to lift your folded buggy over the barrier. Believe me, it is neither easy nor fun and I suppose the locals just don’t use it when they have anything larger than a handbag to carry.

We decided on a small pizzeria for dinner. My son slept through the entire proceedings whilst my daughter flirted with the waiters and charmed them all. One thing that can be said for the French is that they love children. Taking toddlers into a restaurant in England usually leads to disapproving looks as the kids explore and experiment. Here they were the stars.

The following day we took a taxi to the Sacre Coeur, which was of course spectacular for both its white stone frescoes and also for the view over Paris. We did go inside to the cool quiet interior, with the majestic vaulted ceiling, and I was glad we had made the effort. Outside the church is an artist’s market where painters offer their creations for sale and sketchers try to persuade you to have your picture drawn. Only a handful of the pictures stood out and these were retailing from 650F, which, though reasonable, was outside our budget.

We took a long and enjoyable walk back to the Bastille, past the ornate buildings of the Gare de l’Est and the Gare du Nord, and around the Place de la Republique. Nick said they rebuilt the roads so wide after the Revolution because they wanted to make them too large to erect barricades. In a city designed before the car, where no-one has a garage, this has allowed Paris to remain relatively unspoilt by the exponential rise in car ownership. There is plenty of room for parking bays on both sides of the street. Parking and driving are still manic, though, and we did see one smash whilst we were there.

Outside our hotel, there was a Sunday morning street market which seemed to sell everything from fruit to clothes to saucepans. We took a wander down it and then on to the Bastille, where the Parisian marathon was underway. It was an inspiring sight, not just because people twice my age could run for four hours when I can’t run for the bus, but also for the devastation left behind in the wake of the marathon’s passing. The floor was littered with empty water bottles, gnawed oranges and half banana skins.

We were first class on the way back, which is to be recommended as there is much more room and free food. The waiter rashly gave my daughter plenty of chocolate cake and she ended up dancing on the tables. I think the over excitement took its toll on the kids and the train journey back home from London is in my top five worst ever. Still, we survived and I would do it again. We are better prepared for what we will need to organize when we go off to Canada later in the year.


First published in VISA issue 41(summer 2001)