My friend Barbara and I took a 17-day trip to Paris, France and England in April 2010.
We stayed at a small econo-priced hotel near the River Seine and the Eiffel called Hotel Au Pacific. Since we were to be on foot, this seemed to be the best choice, centrally located to the places we wanted to see, and a Metro station was close by to take us to the outer reaches. Great plan!
Interesting tidbit ... my friend Bob who owns the Simpatico houseboat on the Seine near the Eiffel where I've stayed before ("Midnight at the Eiffel"), suggested in an email after I alerted him to our upcoming arrival (inviting him for a drink or two and to meet Babs), he suggested "Don't forget to eat lots of garlic between now and take off to get those immune levels up for breathing all those non-filered microbes in the aircraft." Well, I didn't do that, didn't want to offend everyone within breathing range on the trip over, and as it turned out, I didn't need immune safety, what I needed were new feet!
I flew from Phoenix, Babs flew from LAX, both of us meeting at the Dallas/Fort Worth airport for the final leg of the trip to Paris. Well, her connection arrived earlier than mine, and the deal was we were to meet at our departure gate.
I arrived and browsed through a few shops first, had a cup of coffee, and visited the ladies before going out to the gate. I didn't feel there was any hurry and I wanted to walk rather than sit before that last few hours stuck on the plane. So about 30 minutes before the flight departure I went to the gate. Babs was fit to be tied! She was afraid I'd miss the flight and was panicking. I had all the hotel info and all the other tickets I'd booked for the trip. She said she would've gotten on the plane regardless, but she was so glad to see me as I came down the corridor. All was well.
After arriving at our hotel in Paris (took a cab from the airport) and settling in, we went for a walk to familiarize ourselves with the area. Found a few cafes, one across the intersection near us and a patisserie on the other corner. Down a side street right at our corner there were all sorts of food markets - fish, bread, vegetables and fruit, cheese - lining both sides of the street. So the walk gave us our bearings, now we knew where the groceries were. lol lol This is what I do on every trip I take regardless of the destination - walk the area to get a good idea of what is available close by. Usually I'm alone, usually travel alone which I enjoy. But this time it was nice traveling with my long-time friend Babs. She's a kick.
We met with Bob a few streets over from the hotel (at the end of the street we'd already traversed) where several pubs, or rather cafes (France-cafes; England-pubs), and caught up on the latest, I hadn't seen him in two years. I enjoyed our chat over champagne.
But on the second day in Paris, the second day of walking the slanted sidewalks, my left foot began to hurt. Old injuries, arthritis, fallen arches, name it, all in my left foot. And I couldn't walk without pain. So we packed my foot in ice repeatedly ... ice that Babs finally found at a fish market down the street, lol lol, would you believe it ... no ice in the hotel. I took Aleve, and it still hurt. Lord, we were just beginning our journey!
So I decided to grin and bear it, and do the best I could, I wasn't going to spoil our trip. I'd ride on the Metro, buses, and sit whenever I could at the places we visited. Here I was, miserable in one of my favorite cites - PARIS of all places! It hindered my enjoyment, though, I must tell you that. Hurt like hell, the whole time. I think the slanted sidewalks aggravated it, my foot leaning inward down the slopes.
We went to the Louvre Museum, have to do that everytime I'm in Paris, took a river ride - always fabulous! Walked through the flower market along the river, and visited some other sites and squares of interest: Trocadero, Montmartre,Invalides, Eiffel, etc. Dined in some neat places, too, while we were there (and some not so nice places). It's just too bad I wasn't up to par and couldn't venture out more than we did. I had so wanted to show Babs a good time.
But she enjoyed the patisseries, the bread and cheese shops, etc. in spite of it all. And we would stop and have a pastry and coffee periodically, people watching, as we treked through the city. Thank god for the Metro! And it's very easy to navigate, so simple to get from one point to another. One of the best trans-systems, I feel, in the world.
One day we were on the Metro when a sleezy Frenchman, older, and a bit crazy, starting making eyes at Babs. Literally. He'd lick his lips and pucker up, kissing the air towards her, then indicating he wanted her to go with him, off the bus. If it weren't so comical, it would have been downright lude and rude. We both snickered our heads off. He was incredibly nuts and repulsive. Yikes! She said that had happened to her in New York (she's a New Yorker) and she was wondering if it was the same guy, thinking maybe he followed her. lol lol
Regardless of the foot pain, Paris is never a disappoinment to me. Whether it's good or bad weather, crowded or not, it's a city that remains to be in the top three for me. It's inspiring, energetic, and one that stays in your memory forever. And contrary to what some say, I find it a friendly city, have never had a problem with communicating or socializing, the French are always gracious to me. Wonderful place to go. I'd love to live there.
So the day came when we had to leave Paris and board a train for Calais. As we were preparing to leave the hotel, handling our own luggage, no valets, Babs reached for her roller suitcase thinking it was the one she'd left home, with four wheels instead of two. So when she pulled at it, it fell over and the weight of it twisted her arm and shoulder. Injured her, honest to Pete! Right on the spot. She was in agony. But we had to go, the taxi was due to arrive ... early in the morning. So we got downstairs and waited for the cab. She said it was really hurting, and that she'd take some Advil or whatever she had when we got to the train station.
We went on, took the cab then the train to Calais. She wasn't complaining too much, so I thought it was getting better. But here we were, me with a bum foot and now her with a bum shoulder. Quite a pair to draw to.
I'd never taken a ferry from Calais to England, only from St. Malo to England, so decided it might be fun to cross over to Dover. But to time it right in order to take a train to our destination - Weymouth in Dorset, England, we would have to spend a nite in Dover.
So I had booked a hotel in Dover - The Premier Inn - for a one-nite's stay.
More to follow . . .
