Paris is much closer to London than is generally acknowledged. Traditionally, the two cities weren't even on the same map. A dark and brooding channel, full of cold salty water, served as a protective border to all things British. Beyond it loomed the unspeakable, uncivilized hordes that a gentleman would not dream of approaching. Each journey was an adventure, to be undertaken in the safety of an expeditionary corps.
Modern times have changed old truths dramatically and challenged treasured views. The train now takes less than two and a half hours. That's only a bit more than it takes to get to Liverpool or Leeds, two featureless cities halfway up the British island. The distance to Paris is greater, but it feels as if the island is never left. Traveling doesn't involve crossing the sea, and the channel remains forever out of sight. The train never leaves the safety of the land, even though this land is up to 75 meters below sea level. In short, Paris is just a hop away, perfect for quickly skipping town.
I have been to Paris on half a dozen occasions, but the four days last weekend were only my second multi-night stay there. There is much to discover, but at the same time I feel I know the city already. I have certainly my preferred neighborhoods, places I return to each time, where I know my way around without a map. This approach is easy and reassuring, but it keeps most of the secrets of the city locked from me. This time around I went for the unknown to some extent. I discovered new areas and refreshed my memory of those first seen during my first stay, eleven years ago.
Our hotel was in easy walking distance of our arrival station, the Gare du Nord, in the direction of the city center. The location couldn't have been better. A cursory glance at the map had filled me with some trepidation. The Moulin Rouge and Pigalle are not too far away and I expected a seedy area that would discourage nocturnal strolls. To our relief, the neighborhood turned out perfectly respectable, and we never felt unease out in the streets.
As every stay in Paris should, ours commenced with a random walk from the hotel to the Seine islands. After a breakfast of croissant and coffee at a little bakery, we happened upon Notre Dame des Victoires, an inconspicuous church that impressed on the inside with walls tiled in their entirety with thousands of little stone tablets. Each tablet was donated by someone whose prayers had been answered. One could believe for a moment that there was no suffering left in the world.
Of the two Seine islands, I much prefer Île Saint-Louis. While the crowds besiege Notre Dame on the neighboring Île de la Cité, I walk among century-old buildings now inhabited by galleries, specialty shops and bakeries. History left marks on every wall. They would be too obscure were it not for more and more explanatory plaques - and the best Paris book of all, now sadly out of print.
The Eiffel Tower is one place where I can tolerate crowds. The best time to be up there is at sunset, but it pays to arrive early. On foot is the best way to get up, but the stairs close when it gets dark. While the jolting elevators convey a sensation of being in a different time, the impression is more intense with one's feet on the iron steps, seeing the structure narrow as one ascends.
If one sunset is spent on the Eiffel tower, another must be by Sacré-Cœur. The view is stunning, but the area doesn't invite staying. The stairs in front of the basilica are populated by the same youthful crowd also sitting on the Spanish Steps in Rome or at the foot of the Palau Nacional in Barcelona. We hastily avoided Place du Tertre with its vulturous portrait painters and corny restaurants and descended the stairs on the opposite side. In no time we found ourselves isolated from tourists, in an area of Montmartre were locals dine and students hang out in bars.
Speaking of dining, the Latin Quarter is full of restaurants, but they cater almost exclusively to package tourists. Three course meals are cheap and miles from fine dining. I had snails for the first time and enjoyed the meal, but the area is better visited during the day, when the quirky shops and venerable coffee houses faintly recall the days when rebellion was preached and a better world conjured in smokey debates.
The Champs-Élysées is another landmark of Paris that's vastly overrated. It's just a wide boulevard with lots of shops, and most of these shops can be found in any other metropolis. The Parisian has long been drained from this avenue. At the end is the Arc de Triomphe, which climbed to a top spot of my personal favorites list but only because I experienced circumnavigating it behind the wheel of a nimble vehicle.
Paris is richly endowed with wonderful museums. I have visited the Museé d'Orsay and the Louvre and I would gently discourage others from following in my steps. Both are too big for a comprehensive visit. You will leave drained and exhausted. The collections in both are stunning, but can only be appreciated during multiple visits, each focusing on a particular topic. Much better for time-strapped tourists are special exhibits, for example in the Grand Palais or the Centre Pompidou. Or pick a smaller museum to begin with. Picasso and Rodin come to mind.
At the end of the day, what characterizes Paris is not the big sights (besides the Eiffel Tower) but the little things. Walking along Haussmannian buildings with no particular destination, stopping for coffee in a dimly lit bar that hasn't changed in decades, carrying a baguette to breathe the fragrant smell, letting time pass among the statues of the Tuileries, all these are pleasures that would justify an infinitely more arduous trek than the comfortable ride in a high-speed train. Good things in life are simple.
And bad thing that I didn't manage to squeeze the Institute of the Arab World into this post. This cultural center next to the Seine and in sight of Notre Dame houses a library, auditoriums, exhibitions, crafts shops and a posh ninth-floor restaurant. The roof terrace is open to anyone and a great place to take a breather and enjoy the view.
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