Last day in Paris

All good things come to an end, and so our time in Paris was coming to a close. We were woken by the usual early morning deliveries, but we really didn't mind. The sound of the city is fine, and we dozed until it was time to head down to breakfast.
After quickly packing we called a cab and headed to Le Gare de Nord and then to find the left luggage lockers. Not a hard task one would think, but it took us nearly half an hour, and then having to go through airport security before paying for the locker.

Now much lighter, we were able to head out back into the city; we had eight hours to kill before our train left for London; the question was what to do.

One of my favourite places in Paris is the cimitrie de Montmartre; maybe a rather morbid place, doubly as I wanted to take pictures, but it really is a city of the dead right in the middle of the city, and is wonderfully photogenic.

We got out our map and headed north west, which we thought was the right direction.
Now, most of the major tourist traps and railway stations are havens for the thief and fraudulent; one of the worse are the gypsies. (not real gypsies, but people from Romania who beg; that we saw the same faces around Le Gare de Nord as two years ago points to there being gangs controlling the best spots.) So, we dodge the beggars and head down the main street into what seems to be the wedding district, where almost every shop offers dresses or suit hire, and it went on and on.



Anyway, we arrived in Montmartre, right by Moulin Rouge, before heading up La Butte and up the narrow alleyways past boulangeries and cheese shops and choclatiers and the such.



Jools decided to sit near the main gate and read the book she had been ploughing through the whole trip, whilst I headed off, cameras in hand to snap away. The cemetery is wonderful; full of tombs and mauseliums of the great, good and commoner.



Around every corner was a delight, some beautiful statues sometimes of angels, sometimes of mourning figures. And catching the occasional semi-feral cat scampering around.






After an hour or so, my man-flu had returned and I thought a coffee woulddo the trick. We walked a short distance to Place de Clichy and found a place right on the Place. We got a window seat, and over espressos we watched the city go by and generally ignore road signs and traffic lights.



I looked at the menu; mozzarella and tomato; calzoni; bottle of red; Warsteiner on draught. Yes, yes, yes and yes. I guess we were there over two hours working our way through lunch. We were under no pressure to leave, even though we had the best seats in the place. It was a real pleasure.

Up into Montmartre for some window shopping, and some real shopping as we got three quarters of a kilo of hand made chocolates (which we are still working our way through) and a pistachio topped sweet loaf of bread/cake thing. Thats gone now, it was very nice with cherries in the loaf too.

By then it was four, and were Paris'd out, and so we walked back to the railway station and settled down in a bar and nursed coffees and a beer until it was time to check in.



Right on time at a quarter to seven the train pulled out and glided out of Paris and then whizzed through Flanders and Normandie. We were served a vegetable risotto and a small bottle of red. All very nice.

All the while we were heading back home and to reality.