Here To Geneva

Showing 43 posts tagged Paris

A Lousy Taste of France

Eating out at the world famous Restaurant Chartier, Paris

How easy it would be for a solo traveller to avoid the faff that surrounds dining in Paris by visiting a cafeteria or fast food joint. There are plenty of places in Paris to choose from. The days of strict culinary snobbery are long gone and now parisian’s embrace McDonalds, Subway and Pizza Hut like the rest of us.

But no. My conscience wouldn’t allow it. How could I go to Paris and not be treated like dirt by a waiter wearing traditional rondin simply for having a terrible french accent. I live to experience things. I couldn’t live with myself if I visited Paris without going to a restaurant with snails on the menu.

So around midday on a rainy Saturday, I headed for the much famed Restaurant Chartier. All the guidebooks list this place. Located in the 9th arrondissement, it was opened in 1896 by two brothers as a worker’s cafeteria, selling cheap food in an area filled with exuberance. The Belle Époque intrior hasn’t really changed at all since the day the place opened, resulting in the building being classified in 1989 as a national historical monument.

I showed up expecting to join the end of a long queue. Instead, I squelched down an empty arcade and was helped through a heavy revolving door by a maître d’ who welcomed me and asked me how many of me there were. After establishing there definitely was only 1 of me, I was whisked into the centre of the dining room. The place was warm, noisy and heaving with people. Waiters rushed about the place with great urgency while patrons leaned into the table to hear one another. It was buzzing.

I was shown to a table of four. Three older french ladies were already eating. With some surprise, coats and bags were removed from my seat. They clearly hadn’t read that at Chartier, strangers share tables. I slung my bag and coat into the overhead coat racks, sat down and soaked in the unique atmosphere. Without a word, my waiter arrived and placed a folded sheet of paper in front of me; today’s menu, a thing of beauty, almost an iconic work of art that I wished I could keep.

To avoid any screw-ups and to gain the respect of my waiter, I had already looked at the menu online before arriving. I politely perused, just in case it had changed. Luckily, it hadn’t. The waiter rushed back, leaning right over the table in order to hear me. As I ordered in flawless french, he scribbled what I was saying down on the tablecloth. It all went swimmingly.

So, what did I have?

To start, Salade frisee aux lardons. You can already tell, Chartier isn’t going to be wining any culinary awards anytime soon. A glass bowl of scratchy, dressed lettuce leaves with croutons and lardons. It was actually rather enjoyable. Crucially, also very cheap. A couple of euros at most

To drink, a bottle of crisp, refreshing, slightly sweet cidre. It was just like Magners or Bulmers only considerably cheaper.

For the main, Choucroute alsacienne, a german-inspired dish from the Alsace region of France. A ridiculous heap of sauerkraut (fermented/pickled cabbage) with a frankfurter, a dense, meaty sausage, soft and lean pork and a single potato. The sauerkraut was bloody awful but the meat was nice and the potato, well, that was a potato.

To finish, Gateau de semoule au caramel, a cold semolina pudding served with crème anglaise (good old custard) and caramel sauce. It was recommended to me by the three ladies I was sat with whom I had blundered my way through conversations with. The lady sat to my immediate right insisted on speaking to me at length in french, despite me making it very clear I didn’t really understand what she was saying. At one point, she invited me to chip in some money towards their bill. I understood that and made sure they understood that that wasn’t going to happen under any circumstances.

The pudding was lovely and rounded off a generally poor but ultimately enjoyable dining experience. It’s not often I’m sat in a restaurant and am captivated by anything other than my mobile or those I’m sat with. Between courses, I gazed around the room, admiring the decor, watching patrons pour themselves more wine and giggling at the exasperated faces being made by the staff. It was all good fun and wonderfully parisian.

It was time to leave. The waiter, who had actually been polite and very pleasant, came over and asked if I wanted any coffee. I declined and my bill was totted up old-school-style there and then on the table cloth. I paid, took yet another photo, before being whisked out into the rain again via the revolving door.

Service is brisk and informal at Chartier. You’re not treated like royalty but you do at least get the impression that your patronage is somewhat appreciated. It’s a credit to the place that most people find themselves in a queue upon arrival. Indeed, when I left, a queue had formed down the arcade and out onto the street. There aren’t many places that can boast that people will happily to stand in the rain to eat there. Only in Paris.

Review: Hotel La Manufacture, Paris

A charming, modern and well-appointed Parisien hotel with excellent transport links.

Recently, I spent three nights in Paris, France, just for a break in routine. Since it was my forth time in the capital, I didn’t go for anything in particular. I went simply because it’s easy for me to get to and there’s plenty to see on foot. Plus, it’s Paris! As usual, I needed a comfortable, modern, quiet room to stay in for as little cash as possible. I opted to book a package via ShortBreaks where a Eurostar return from/to London was bundled with the cost of the accommodation. I found a great little deal for Hotel La Manufacture. Did Room 1 meet the hotel’s good reputation?

The Good

A medium-size room. Some others reviews suggest some of the rooms here are on the cramped side. Perhaps I was lucky. Perhaps others are a little fussy. I found the size to be just right.
Comfortable bed. Two single beds were pushed together to form a double with a double sheet and quilt.
Good lighting. Lots of options and a large window.
Large flat-screen tv mounted on the wall. Around 40 channels with English news channels and general entertainment channels in French, German, Italian and Spanish.
Controllable air-con.
Warm, comfortable decor and nice wood furnishings. No noticeable wear and tear.
High standard of cleanliness.
Really quiet. My room was at the back of the building facing into an inner courtyard. There was no traffic noise at all. Lift shafts were next door to the room but made very little noise.
Mini-safe in wardrobe, nice towels, free toiletries and face cloths, hair dryer, telephone, tv guide and other magazines all included in the room.
Free and fast Wifi in all areas of the hotel. No excuse these days to charge hotel customers for wifi.
Friendly and helpful staff.
24 hour bar.
Really nice location. Near an interchange metro station and lots of restaurants and shops. Away from the tourist areas so you’re mixing with real Parisiens living their lives.
Breakfast included in the room price. A typical continental spread of breads, cheeses, cold meats, cereals, pastries and boiled eggs. Really lovely.

The Bad

A really narrow bathroom. I actually rather liked it because it was different and quirky. That said, the toilet was about 30cm away from the other wall so using it was difficult even for a skinny guy like me. People of larger proportions would probably have to sit on it sideways.
The shower was right in front of a window. The glass was slightly frosted but there was no blind or curtain. On top of that, a bright halogen bulb lit up the shower area like a shop window, so showering at night would probably only be for the brave.
Central faucet on sink. It’s one of my hotel bugbears. Seems every hotel has them these days. Really annoying to use.
During one afternoon, I placed the ‘Do not disturb’ sign outside my room. I had walked a lot that morning and fancied a nap and had noticed the chambermaid was working on my floor. After a short time, I was woken up by the phone ringing. It was reception wanting to know when I would be vacating my room. It’s my personal opinion that if a hotel has “Do not disturb’ signs, they ought to respect them and that if I’m paying for a room for three nights, it should be my decision whether I want the room to be cleaned or not. It’s worth pointing out this was the only customer service issue I had though.

The Verdict

Despite the annoyance of being woken up unnecessarily, I really enjoyed my stay at Hotel La Manufacture and would highly recommend it to you. It’s well-appointed, well-run and offers everything you could possibly need. Rooms are a good size, quiet and comfortable and include all the necessary extras. It’s often a requirement of people visiting Paris that they avoid the chain hotels and stay in a typically Parisien hotel. This hotel would meet such a requirement since it’s set in a typically Parisien-style building (with large iron main entrance door) and is independently-owned. Next time you’re in Paris, I’d say Hotel La Manufacture is definitely worth at least short-listing.

Hotel Information

Hotel La Manufacture
8 Rue Philippe de Champagne
75013 PARIS
Tel: +33 (0)1 45 35 45 25

Eating Out: L’As du Fallafel, Paris, France

Last weekend, I was in Paris, France. What with a direct train connection from my hometown to London St. Pancras International station and an onward connection by Eurostar to central Paris, it’s really easy for me to get a short ‘fix of français’ whenever I need it.

I arrived at lunchtime at Gare du Nord. Naturally, I was hungry (I always am, but I’m particularly so around midday for some reason) so I thought about where I could grab something to eat. This isn’t too much of a problem for Paris. There are thousands of food options and places to eat and you’re pretty much guaranteed that it will be tasty and fulfilling.

I still had my bag on my back though. I hadn’t even checked in at my hotel. A proper restaurant or cafe was not what I wanted. I needed something quick. After a moments thought, I knew exactly what would hit the spot. I hopped on the metro and headed for Rue des Rosiers.

I had already had falafel in Paris’ Marais district before. I had enjoyed it a lot, but I didn’t have much choice in where to get it. I had stupidly turned up on a Saturday, the Jewish sabbath, so apart from this one place, all the outlets were closed. This time, I did have a choice, though I only had one place in mind; the much-hyped L’As du Fallafel.

You can’t miss the green facade of what is, for some reason, trumped as Lenny Kravitz’s favourite falafel restaurant. Bright flashing lights, press cuttings and a bright yellow menu board draw you in. A guy with a small receipt book rounds up potential customers in French with smatterings of English. Once you’ve joined the queue, he takes your order, you pay him and he hands you a receipt which you then hand to the guys behind the window. “How hot do you want it,” you’re asked. “Hot!” is the response. With tongs, crisp salted cucumber and pickled red & white cabbage is quickly flicked into large, soft pitta bread. Five (six if you’re lucky) glistening golden brown balls of fried chickpea fritters (falafel) are thrown in along with soft aubergine. On top of it all, hummus and hot harissa sauce is spooned on.

It’s difficult describing the taste without being vague. You’ll just have to try it for yourself. I love food that has a variety of textures and flavours all in one, so for me it really hits the spot. Its crispy and soft, sweet and sour, hot and mild, crunchy and chewy. It ticks all the boxes. If you’re not sitting in the adjoining restaurant, the generally accepted way to eat is to find a nearby doorway to stand in or find a step or kerb to sit on. Then open your mouth wide and stuff as much of it in as possible. Forget about your dignity and manners. It’s just too good.

Notes From The City Of Light (Part Two)

Welcome to the second of a two-part series of notes written during a weekend trip to Paris. In this edition, I wait patiently for the peleton, visit my favourite Parisian park, meet more Aussies and nearly get struck by lightning. If you haven’t read part one, don’t you think it’s a more logical starting point? Idiot!

Sunday

11h23 CET Morning! Sat on a bench on the Champs-Élysées. The crowds are starting to build to the sound of very loud grunge music. Can’t imagine many people are into it. There are a lot of Aussies here (with inflatable kangaroos) to see if Cadel Evans can find just over 1 minute to halt Carlos Sastre’s almost certain victory. Still a couple of hours before the Publicity Caravan rolls in. I’m gonna stick around here. Seems like a safe bet.

11h29 There are barriers and stripy tape all over the city centre, inexplicably cutting off paths and roads. This has caused there to be a lot of dead ends which are catching people out. I’m sitting in one now. There’s a constant stream of people doing uturns.

20h25 Back in my hotel room. It’s been an exhausting day. I didn’t plan the day very well, so I spent much if it just hanging around on the Champs-Élysées, waiting for the tour to arrive. The first sign of it was the Publicity Caravan, a convoy of trucks, car, vans and bikes from the race sponsors, horns blaring and lights flashing. No free stuff unfortunately ( I suppose by now they’d run out) but good and noisy as expected. About an hour later, the cyclists arrived. By then, the crowds were heavy. A roar rose when the peleton swishes past. It was an awesome sight. Due to the way the course in Paris is set out, I got to see the racers swish past 14 times. Carlos Sastre of Spain ended up retaining the maillot jeune, making it a bumper year for Spanish sport all round (that’s enough now I think). It was a good atmosphere, but I wish I’d spent my morning more wisely. I ended the day with a meal and a short wander through the narrow streets if Île Saint-Louis, where queues for famous ice cream shops wound around corners. Even at 8’o’clock at night, the sun was blisteringly hot. Too hot for me. If it were more comfortable, and my legs weren’t hurting from the the walking I’ve done, I would have stayed out longer. In all, an experience I’m glad I had.

Monday

11h04 I’m sat in my favourite part of Paris, Jardin du Luxembourg. I’ve found a nice shady spot, amongst the trees. Temperatures in the sun are once again far too high, but at least in the shade and with a pleasant breeze, it’s comfortable. Around me, people are slowly walking, chatting to one another. To my right, a man is teaching two ladies tai chi. Ahead are a herd of donkeys, silently snuffling the ground and patiently waiting to transport kids around the gardens. To my left, an outdoor cafe is selling crepes and coffee, while a group of men play petanque. Behind me, there are occasional screams and cackles if laughter emanating from a huge playground. In the distance, the typically Parisian two tone siren competes with the pats of ball against tennis racket from the nearby courts. The bells on the French senate building here in the gardens have just signalled quarter past the hour. Shortly, I’ll be off to find a brasserie, before taking a guided tour. Good times in Paris.

11h36 One of the ladies doing tai chi just lit a cigarette. The smell was too much and I had to move. What’s the point if doing tai chi if you smoke away the internal goodness straight after. Ridiculous!

19h13 On the Eurostar back. I’m hungry, but I don’t have any cash and they don’t accept my card so a bottle of Orangina and a cup of ice will have to suffice (it’s fun to rhyme). Had a cool day. After my sit in Jardin du Luxembourg, I visited a very busy Champion supermarket to get some coffee milk for my dad (you just can’t get it in Britain), picked up a delicious ham and cheese baguette from a grumpy lady and raced to the meeting point for a free walking tour of the city. It was exceptionally… My god is it chucking it down outside. The sky’s gone black! Now hailing! We must be approaching Britain… Anyway, the walking tour was brilliant. The tour guide had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the city and while some if her stories were repeats of stuff I’d heard on the bike tours, I learnt a lot of new stuff. In keeping with the trend of chatting to Australiasians, I met Daniella, a half Australian, half British, another bit German girl who was travelling on her own around Europe. We shared an interest in Europe and wanting to get into the media, so we had plenty to talk about. After the tour, we walked past The Hôtel de Crillon where the cheapest rooms are from £500 a night. Daniella wondered what It was like inside, so we marched over to the entrance. Inexplicably, I hadn’t banked on there being door men. After a moment of indecision, we were approached by one of the fellas. “Can we look inside?” she asked. The doorman didn’t speak English, but he knew if he shock his head and pointed at the way I was dressed, we’d probably understand we couldn’t. After some pleading, she was allowed to go around in the revolving door while I stood outside like some penniless t-shirt wearing tramp. It was nice inside according to her, which at the asking price, you’d probably expect. She’s leaving Paris tomorrow. When we parted company at the metro, she still hadn’t decided where she was going to go next. Perhaps Nice! I couldn’t do that. I’d have organised every detail of the trip months in advance. It showed impressive independence and guts. I’ve got both independence and guts, but she had more of it.

19h56 Just passed through Lille. Passing underneath a storm at the moment. Train slowing down for some reason.

20h08 Big flash of lightning right next to the train. Train now at a crawl after rapid, juddering deceleration. This isn’t normal. The Eurostar isn’t supposed to stop.

20h12 Train now at a standstill. The train manager has just announced there is a problem with the high speed line.

20h23 We’re moving again. Impressive lightning strikes all around before we enter the tunnel. Running 16 minutes late.

20h12 BST Back in Britain. A couple of minutes before I arrive at St Pancras. Can’t believe I’m back at work tomorrow. It’s been an awesome weekend.

Notes From The City Of Light (Part One)

I’ve just spent the weekend in a blistering hot and beautiful Paris. This is part one of a two-part series of notes I wrote during the trip. In this edition, I climb two levels of the Eiffel Tower, get cast into darkness on the metro, get serenaded by George Michael, go cycling and meet lots of great people (mostly Aussies and Kiwis). Let’s go!

Friday

08h28gmt So, i’m off to Paris again. The last time I went was two years ago. That was my second visit, which makes this my third. This time, I’m going for one thing. The Tour de France. After a three week long tour, the peleton arrives in Paris on Sunday for one last race. Having experienced the tour in person for the first time last year in London, I had to experience it in person in France. So, I’m on the train to St Pancras to catch the Eurostar. Now that the Eurostar terminal has moved to my side of London, the journey to Paris is ridiculously easy. I’m just two trains away.

09h47 Realised when I got to London that I’d boarding a fast, non-stopping train. I’m at St Pancras a good two hours before the Eurostar departs. Departure lounge is lovely. Dark, wooden floors, modern, comfortable seats. The terminal is considerably smaller than the old one at Waterloo. Hardly any shops or eateries. A fat fella and his fatter wife just sat down on the same row as me. Something went crack.

10h59 On the Eurostar. Five minutes to departure. Very tatty train. Doors have just shut. The seat next to me is empty. Hoping it stays that way.

11h05 The acceleration on this train is amazing. Zero to fast in no time at all.

11h10 Through the upcoming Olympic station, Stratford. Really long tunnels snaking underneath London at the beginning of the journey. Wafts of toilet smells in the coach. Could be the fat couple’s lunch.

11h15 Just passed underneath the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge.

11h32 Just passed Sandlings. Holds a special place in my heart. Looks as if we’re about to enter the Channel Tunnel. Some sort of alarm has just sounded. Le Shuttle terminal passing to the right.

11h36 Into the Tunnel sous la Manche.

12h00 Pop! And we’re out. Not a bad crossing time.

13h24cet Passing through the suburbs of Lille. Lille Europe station approaches.

13h49 Zipping through Northern France. Just started to rain. It’s going to be a wet weekend.

15h41 Arrived at my hotel. Room slightly smaller than my last, but still nice. As I expected, I’ve been put next to the lift. Hoping I don’t hear it. Interesting view from my window of a road junction. Going to pop out shortly to the supermarket and to the Eiffel tower.

17h08 I’m writing this on the first level of the Eiffel tower. It seemed the best place to start. At only €3.10, it’s a steal. My only other plans are to go to Flunch for a meal and pop to the supermarket for some water. Really hot! Probably the high 20s. Wish I’d put some shorts on. Going to go up another level shortly.

19h17 In Flunch. Terrible décor, terrible music and underground, but good food at a low price. They’re practically giving it away. I’ve got Spaghetti Bolognese, a raspberry tart and a can of Ice Tea. Delicious! I’ll be coming again.

20h07 My god! I’m boiling! On the way back from dinner, the metro’s lights went out and the train came to an abrupt standstill. The emergency lights came on and the driver… You know what, this can wait. I need a shower…

Saturday

08h25 … Where was I? Ah, yes. The driver very hurriedly announced something. There wasn’t much of a reaction from my fellow passengers. A murmur rose as people exchanged their collective tuts. There we stayed, in near darkness, beads of sweat dripping from our faces for about five minutes before the lights came back and the train jolted forward. At the next station, a couple of people got off, including an American couple who’d “had enough.” The rest, including me, continued with the test of endurance. This morning, I’ll be finding that supermarket I keep going on about and then going on a cycle tour. Before that though, I need to finish watching this exciting instalment of Clifford, le grand chien rouge.

10h30 Sat on a bench in Champs de Mars. The Eiffel tower looms into the sky in front of me. It’s pleasantly warm with a slight breeze. At the foot of the tower, the masses throng, yet here where I’m sat, it’s satisfyingly peaceful. I love Parisian parks. They’re so well looked after. Even on a Saturday morning, there are people watering the flowers and grass and people picking litter. At 1100, I’m heading for the meeting spot for the cycle tour. Until then, I’m very happy here.

10h36 There seems to be a trend of musicians playing on the metro. So far, I’ve been serenaded by a man with a guitar playing George michael hits (well, you’ve gotta have faith I suppose), a blind man with a casio keyboard held together with sticky tape (he was awesome), and this morning by a beree’d man playing the accordion (I afforded myself a smile at this, which he seemed to notice and appreciate).

17h59 Cool day so far. Went on the Fat Tire daytime tour of the sights. After meeting at Pilier Sud, the south pillar of the Eiffel Tower, we were taken to the Fat Tire office where we were each issued a Californian Beach Cruiser bike and a tour guide. Our tour guide was a Texan. After a short briefing, we were off, cycling through the streets of Paris. It was awesome! I starting chatting to three Australian fellas. They were your stereotypical boisterous, fun-loving Aussies. In fact, they took the stereotypes to the extreme. I didn’t think Australians actually said ‘bonza’ or ‘you beaut’ but apparently, they do. A lot! When we stopped off for a spot of lunch at an outdoor cafe in Jardin de Tuileries, the table arrangement wasn’t to their liking and, to the very obvious annoyance of the waiting staff, they dragged the tables and chairs around until they had accommodated themselves and everyone else. “This is how we do things at home,” one of them said. The scowl on the waiter’s face was classic!

18h09 Currently sat in Quick, a fast food restuarant in Gare Montparnasse. In another case of unexplainable use of English, I just had a Long Chicken meal. I could have had a Long Fish or a Cheese Supreme among others. Why they weren’t called Poisson Long or Suprême Fromage I’m certain no one knows. Off to the Eiffel Tower shortly, the meeting place for the night time bicycle tour.

23h57 Just got back from the night tour. It was awesome. I saw parts of Paris I’d have never seen otherwise and met lots of great people. I’m beginning to think the New Zealand government is spying on me though. The number of kiwis I’m suddenly encountering is worrying high. The couple I met this evening were lovely. Carlton and Jo were charmingly reserved, thoughtful and interesting. Naturally, we had plenty to talk about. They were both rugby fans. We also chatted about Switzerland. Unbelievably, they had both stayed in Lauterbrunnen earlier in the year. The night tour took an entirely different route than the day tour. This time, the tour guide was a Californian, who spoke with great enthusiasm. At one point, his wild gesturing attracted the attention of some locals who mocked him behind his back. He reacted by bowing to them. Another time, when we were waiting at a red light, a couple on a moped pulled up alongside and remarked something in French. After a pause, Andy turned around to the group with a grin and said, “I don’t speak French.” With an hour of the tour left, we cycled to a dock where we boarded a boat for a ride up and down the Seine. The boat itself was lined on each side by spot lights, so the banks were lit up as if it were day as we chugged past. And I do mean ‘chugged.’ The boat had seen better days and puffed out exhaust fumes which stank and veiled one side of the boat in a dark cloud. It was a good experience though, particularly at the end of the ride when we sailed directly underneath the Eiffel Tower. When we alighted, we watched as two men had a punch-up (which, unusually for me, made me laugh), and then cycled back to the office. If you’re looking for a way of exploring Paris without having your feet bleed, I can highly recommend the Fat Tire Bike Tours. Now, go and read part two.

Your Questions Answered (First Edition)

Some of you may be unaware that your every move on the Internet is tracked. Whenever you visit a website, the administrator of that website knows you’re there, knows what country you’re in, knows which website you came from, even knows your screen resolution. It’s scary, but true. This information is gathered automatically so that the website admins can improve their websites based on who is visiting. It’s like market research, only you didn’t agree to take part in it.

Such ‘market research’ takes place on this website. I gather this information purely to make sure the stuff I’m writing is being read. Also, it’s cool to know someone from Argentina dropped by.

One other piece of data that is collected is the search term that a visitor typed into Google or Yahoo in order to find Here To Geneva. As I wrote in a previous post, the most common search term for this site is “binary solo”, followed by “first time flyer”. Often, in amongst the search terms, are questions that people have queried. Google has brought up one of my pages as a result and the visitor has clicked it hoping to have their question answered. In some cases, they’ve been disappointed to find I’ve never even attempted to address their topic of ignorance. This new series of posts is designed to solve this problem.

Below are a few questions I failed to answer up until now. To those who posed the question, please accept my apologies. I hope my superior knowledge helps you in your quest.

Can I use my mac in Switzerland?

I can’t think why not. There’re certainly no laws prohibiting the use of a mac in Switzerland and the Swiss public will certainly not point and stare at you if you use one in public. You may even get a nod of approval. If your mac was purchased outside the “Europlug” zone, you’ll need a Type C (European 2-pin) or a Type J (Swiss 3-pin) electrical plug convertor. Type C is more common in Switzerland these days, but you may find a Type J too. You may even find both next to one another. Go prepared with both convertors to avoid interruptions to your mac usage. If you’re concerned about wifi, don’t be. There are public wifi hotspots almost everywhere. Swisscom provides excellent coverage with wifi networks at most train stations and even on the trains themselves.

What is the distance between Interlaken and Geneva?

Good question. It depends how you’re travelling. If you’re driving, it’s approximately 215km and a journey time of approximately 2 hours. If you’re going by rail, it’s about 200km with the fastest journey time of 2 hours and 37 minutes (with 1 change at Bern). If you happen to be a bird, you have the quickest journey. It’s only approximately 141km!

How do I catch the metro to the Eiffel Tower?

It’s difficult to answer this question because I don’t know which station you’re travelling from. The closest station if Bir-Hakeim on Line 6. The Paris Métro is reliable, efficient, clean and a breeze to navigate. If I were to offer a tip though, it’d be to know the name of the last station on the line upon which you’re travelling. You’ll need to know this in order to get to the correct platform. Whereas on the London Underground, you can determine which platform to wait on because it’ll say, “Northbound” or “Westbound” and then give a list of all the following stations, on the Paris Métro, it’ll only say “direction” and then the last station on that line.

Why isn’t Lost on iTunes yet?

It is in the USA and UK. Everyone else will need to wait a bit longer. Why? Only Apple can answer that question. And they probably won’t if you ask.

How do I make Sacre Coeur bracelets?

I can only assume you mean the bracelets tied onto the wrists of unsuspecting tourists by burly and intimidating men at the foot of the steps of the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur in Paris. Goodness knows why the authorities don’t do anything about this menace. It’s been going on for years! Having seen said bracelets littering the pavement in the area surrounding the Basilica, it would appear to be a crude plat of three coloured threads. I’m not going to give anymore tips though. I don’t want you getting ideas about starting your own intimidation business. Incidentally, if you’re planning on visiting the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur and you’re concerned about someone demanding money from you for a bracelet you didn’t even ask for, you should rest assured that it is easy to enjoy the Basilica whilst avoiding these con merchants. As I wrote in my HTG Guide to Paris;

There are bracelet guys at the foot of the main steps at Sacre-Couer. The ground in that area is littered with bracelets. I saw them in action. If you want to avoid them but still see Sacre-Cour, take the Metro to Lamarck Caulaincourt and walk in through the back. The walk is lovely and you’re away from the tourist trap so it’s less crowded and the sandwiches are cheaper :). Plus, go as early as possible.

If you’re weird and you want to go to the seedy tourist zone in front of the Basilica, don’t use the main steps or the funicular. These guys will be waiting for you. There are an additional set of steps running down the hill a short walk along the street from the Basilica. If you’re the dare-devil type who stares danger in the face, or if you simply have to take that photo of the Basilica from the foot of the steps you should know they do work as a team. Keep your hands in your pockets and be in and out of the area as quickly as possible. Otherwise, you’ll be paying through the nose for a lousy piece of tat.

I hope you’ve found this post useful. In particular, I hope the original question posers, having still been flummoxed by their ignorance have re-found this website and had their thirst for knowledge well and truly quenched.

Review: Novotel Paris Gare Montparnasse

No Parisien charm, but plenty of comfort and space in a hotel that’s ideally located in the heart of the city.

If you’re looking for a good value, modern and conveniently located hotel in the centre of Paris (and why wouldn’t you), look no further than the Novotel Paris Gare Montparnasse.

Design and Decor

The building itself was finished in 2006, so it still smells and looks brand new. From the moment you walk in through the revolving doors, you’re greeted by a smart looking bar and reception which are both very stylish and modern. The style even extends to the corridors with atmospheric lighting and curved ceilings. The rooms are clean, bright and large. Plus, because the hotel is purpose built, the rooms are very well sound-proofed. Once in your room, you won’t hear anything other than your air-conditioning.

Location

The hotel is a 5-10min walk from the bustling Gare Montparnasse with shops, restaurants, cafes and cinemas. The nearest metro station is Pasteur on line 6 (walk straight out of the hotel and cross the road at the crossing, turn right and then take the second left. The station entrance can be found in the centre of the road carriageways). From Pasteur you can catch a train directly to the Eiffel Tower. The road the hotel is on is very quiet with very little traffic. The area is safe to walk around in at night.

The Room

The room is large, clean, bright and well lit. In the batheroom, there is a sink, shower cubicle and bathtub (with another shower nossel for washing hair while in the tub).The toilet is seperate from the bathroom. A hair dryer, towels and toiletries are provided. There’s a safe which can store a laptop, a mini fridge (with a free bottle of Vittel water put in it each day) and tea and coffee making facilities. The flat-screen LCD TV provides pay-per-view movies and sport (in a variety of languages) plus a selection of TV Channels (TF1, France2, Canal+, Sport+, BBC World, Al Jazeera, Disney Channel, and channels in Chinese and Polish to name but a few). There’s around 15 channels in all. The bed is massive (king or queen), firm and comfortable. Also in the room is a desk and sofa bed. The room is cleaned daily and they do a very good job too.

Service

The hotel staff are very helpful and friendly. They answered all my questions and served me to a high standard. They all spoke excellent english. Security seemed high while I was there with a permanant guard on the main entrance and your room key card necessary for using the lifts to the rooms.