May 22, 2026

Dateline: Paris, France

Last night was the first night I had trouble sleeping all vacation. Wide awake around 2 am for no particular reason and none of my usual tricks helped so I did my usual thing which is put the TV on mute and make up my own dialogue in my head. It usually ends up lulling me into at least a doze. It did that and I got enough sleep to be functional. Today was a transition day from the UK to the continent. In Agatha Christie novels, they’re usually racing to catch the boat train from Waterloo in order to cross the channel. Now, you take the tube to St Pancras/Kings Cross station and catch the Eurostar non-stop high speed train from London to Paris. (They also offer non-stops to Brussels and Amsterdam if you’re bored with France). And so I did. And I’ve determined that the day is coming where I need to budget for a travel companion to handle the luggage.

St. Pancras was a bit of a zoo but I did manage to get in the correct queue and through security and customs with minimal fuss (thank you Brexit) and found my seat in Coach 6. The Eurostar heads underground until out of suburban London, then spends about a half hour crossing southeastern England before diving into the Chunnel for the journey to France. It doesn’t take all that long and then you pop out into the French countryside which looks pretty much the same as the English countryside only the street signs, flashing by at a hasty clip, are in (surprise) French. The entire trip from St Pancras to Gare de Nord Paris is only about two and a half hours but three and a half on the clock due to the time change. But those of us who drive routinely between Birmingham and Atlanta are familiar with that one.

On arrival at Gare de Nord, it was full of noisy fans of some French football club that had just done well so it required some delicate maneuvering to get around the inebriated young men in red and yellow singing some sort of chant at the top of their lungs. Once loaded, into a taxi, I had time to draw my breath and look about. This is my first visit to Paris in forty-two years. It looks about the same with the boulevards and the acre upon acre of six story apartment blocks. My hotel (serviceable but not overly luxurious) is in the 2me arrondisement about half way between Opera Garnier and Les Halles. I checked in, wrestled with an elevator which has room for one but not quite for one with rolling suitcase, and put my feet up for a bit before heading out. It’s quite warm in the 80s and I thought waiting a few hours for the temperature to cool off before heading on a trek of several miles might be a good idea.

It was then out to a sidewalk cafe for dinner and a limoncello spritz, and then a walk through Les Halles down to the Seine, across L’Isle de la Cite (where Notre Dame is mostly repaired from the disastrous fire of a few years back) and then up the Rive Gauche, past the Louvre and back towards Opera Garnier and my hotel. Opera Garnier, home of the phantom and a few other things, is undergoing a resurfacing and is covered with a very large advertisement for Tiffany and Company. So much for a good photo of that. Had dessert and a drink at another bistro across the street from my hotel and then headed up to try and get some decent sleep tonight before meeting up with David and Jonathan tomorrow. They needed a day to themselves and I’m not about to go full Jacqueline de Bellefort on them.