Paris in the Spring time....

Our trip to Paris was a great success. The train journey was easy-peasy - the most difficult bit of it was trying to find our way out of Gare du Nord. French mainline railway stations are enormous, and the signage is quite over-whelming - there is a lot of it, it's all in French (obviously) and sometimes the colour coding for the Metro lines varies from one sign to the next. So if you're following plum-coloured 4's for the line to Porte d'Orleans, calling at Ile de la Cite for Notre Dame, just beware that from time to time they change to pink.

Having caught the 5.30 First Great Western train from Swindon into Paddington, then the Hammersmith and City line tube to St Pancras, we made excellent time for our Eurostar departure at 7.45. The renovations at St Pancras are quite stunning, and we had a little bit of time to admire them before being serenaded onto our Paris-bound train by the Southern Ragga Jazz band in full Disney regalia. This encroaching Disney-fication seemed terribly un-British, and also tremendously exciting! Fuelled by sugary Danishes, Belgian chocolate-filled crepes and dodgy coffee, we were all exceedingly giggly as we boarded the train.

Once in Paris, and once, mercifully, out of the Gare du Nord, having got our bearings on the Metro, we found ourselves wandering along Avenue de la Grande Armee towards L'Arc de Triomphe. It was well into lunch time and we were anxiously looking for an eaterie that had a promising looking children's menu. We wandered past one or two brasseries which weren't convincing, et voila, right at the end of the block was Restaurant Le Cristal, closest to L'Arc, probably extortionate menu, but with a very friendly and welcoming waiter ushering us in. How gullible we were! How sainted he immediately became! Croque Monsieur, "steak et frites", "formule expres", and a couple of beers and Oranginas, and all was right with the world once more.

I now admit, to my shame, that although I have a degree in French and Spanish, I have hardly ever spent any time in Paris at all, and, furthermore, my French is rustier than the bolts at the top of the Eiffel Tower. So, while I have read lots of literature about the city, and while I used to be fluent in the language, I don't really know my way around, and I'm not very good at asking for directions. Thankfully my hubby is a walking streetmap, and having visited Paris as recently as last September for the Rugby World Cup, he knew all the places to walk to.

I've heard people say that Paris is a city for strolling in - and it certainly does have beautiful wide pavements and fabulous architecture to admire. However, on the Champs Elysee, if you're too busy admiring the architecture, you run the risk of being ploughed down by a car exiting or entering one of many underground carparks, or portals to parallel universes, which seem to interface with this universe along the lovely wide pavements of the Champs Elysee. Take care! And make sure any pigeon-chasing children you might have with you can be thoroughly reined in on demand.

Our plan was to stroll down the Champs Elysee, cross the river towards Les Invalides, then stroll back along the Quai D'Orsay and Quai Branly 'til we arrived at the Eiffel Tower. This part of the plan worked well. We even managed a bit of a sit down in a tiny playground while the kids climbed, slid and see-sawed. The next part of the plan was to go up the tower in the lift all the way to the top, so we could enjoy the stunning views of Paris. This bit didn't work so well. Although the cheery sign at the back of the lift queue announced "30 minutes d'ici", for some reason it took us almost thirty minutes to get beyond this point, as we kept being pushed back by straggling Italian students who were catching up with the rest of their group in front of us.

Frankly the Eiffel Tower was a grim experience. Having successfully boarded the lift to the second floor, we then had to get out and queue again for the lift to the third floor. It was extremely crowded, and very cold, and our lad began complaining of vertigo. As for me, I was just complaining about people bumping into me all the time - I HATE that. When we finally arrived at the top, the covered viewing platform was swarming with people trying to peer out of cloudy, scratched, perspex windows at the rich delights of romantic Paris below. All the time I wished that I was in among it rather than up above it.

On his Rugby World Cup trip last year my hubby had visited the Eiffel Tower, climbed up the steps to the second floor, then enjoyed a surprisingly cheap beer and baguette at the cafe, taking in the view on a balmy late summer's day. He had then thought how great it would be to take the kids there, and how they would love it. Unfortunately the experience this time was diametrically opposed to the one he had. Which just goes to show that things are never the same second time around, and I was mighty relieved when we decided to call it a day and head to our hotel.

We were staying at the Novotel next to the Gare de Lyon, conveniently placed for easy access to Disney the following morning. From the Eiffel tower it was a straightforward train ride to Gare D'Austerlitz, and from there we crossed the river on foot over the Pont Charles de Gaulle to the Gare de Lyon, and at last our hotel!!

More on Disneyland and our other Parisian adventures soon...