Leaving the Hotel in Canary Wharf was kind of sad. The staff was fantastic and the hotel staff could not be better. Totally recommend the area and the hotel.
The kind doorman escorted me and carried me to the platform for my train to the Paris train. Nice man. Made the DLR to the Paris International Train. I did a really good job considering there were no lifts and I was dragging a suitcase. I will tell you that chivalry is not all together dead as the men in England and in France carried my bag up the many many stairs. But I digress. The train was fabulous and the English woman next to me was fascinated by my New York Times Magazine (not the Europe version). She was a great riding partner and did not interrupt me nor try to talk all the way to Paris. Once I got to the Paris stop of Nord Paris where I skillfully negotiated the platform (secretly asking the help desk where to go) and made it to the metro for the St Michael connection to Billancourt.
I was quite surprised that all the black men on the train were sporting the Obed Dorceus look of the shaved head. But maybe Obed was ahead of his time. Or his Parisian roots are showing. The other thing I noticed is that Paris is the divided country much like the red and blue states of the US. Paris is a city of haves and halves and waiting for haves. It is a busy flurry where people choose better not more... something to ponder. They also have the best children strollers I have ever seen with covers and even raincoats.
The women wear really good quality boots and shoes and maybe not so much for the pants, skirt and shirt. Good coats and scarves, hats well optional. The men are just the same. Where Ted describes the women of Italy with a sultry I can take it or leave it attitude, Paris has the I have it and maybe you can too, maybe attitude. Emphasis on the maybe. They take the subtleties of the language to the exclusion of the "just learning". My french being less than 101, most of the elder people make no effort to communicate. The younger set much more so. I have the feeling it would go much better if I was 25 and cute.
When I arrive at the Hotel an hour late, my daughter was there staring at a television like she had not seen one in a while, which she explained later, she had not. We checked in the hotel and whisked off to look for food. After walking up and down the main Rue which is for shopping not eating, we decided to go to the store and make our own. A bottle of wine, lettuce, cheese tomato, avocado, olives, bread and pancetta later, we were back at the hotel smacking our lips and licking our fingers. The bread crusty, the cheese flavorful and hard and the wine good. Then topped off with peppermint tea and pastry! Wonderful night and so nice to see my baby who is not such a baby anymore. Thank you Paris. And thank you Morgan for getting me here before I ever would have gone!
Tomorrow, the The Parade of the Horse then off to tour museums and have fabulous food and fun.
The kind doorman escorted me and carried me to the platform for my train to the Paris train. Nice man. Made the DLR to the Paris International Train. I did a really good job considering there were no lifts and I was dragging a suitcase. I will tell you that chivalry is not all together dead as the men in England and in France carried my bag up the many many stairs. But I digress. The train was fabulous and the English woman next to me was fascinated by my New York Times Magazine (not the Europe version). She was a great riding partner and did not interrupt me nor try to talk all the way to Paris. Once I got to the Paris stop of Nord Paris where I skillfully negotiated the platform (secretly asking the help desk where to go) and made it to the metro for the St Michael connection to Billancourt.
I was quite surprised that all the black men on the train were sporting the Obed Dorceus look of the shaved head. But maybe Obed was ahead of his time. Or his Parisian roots are showing. The other thing I noticed is that Paris is the divided country much like the red and blue states of the US. Paris is a city of haves and halves and waiting for haves. It is a busy flurry where people choose better not more... something to ponder. They also have the best children strollers I have ever seen with covers and even raincoats.
The women wear really good quality boots and shoes and maybe not so much for the pants, skirt and shirt. Good coats and scarves, hats well optional. The men are just the same. Where Ted describes the women of Italy with a sultry I can take it or leave it attitude, Paris has the I have it and maybe you can too, maybe attitude. Emphasis on the maybe. They take the subtleties of the language to the exclusion of the "just learning". My french being less than 101, most of the elder people make no effort to communicate. The younger set much more so. I have the feeling it would go much better if I was 25 and cute.
When I arrive at the Hotel an hour late, my daughter was there staring at a television like she had not seen one in a while, which she explained later, she had not. We checked in the hotel and whisked off to look for food. After walking up and down the main Rue which is for shopping not eating, we decided to go to the store and make our own. A bottle of wine, lettuce, cheese tomato, avocado, olives, bread and pancetta later, we were back at the hotel smacking our lips and licking our fingers. The bread crusty, the cheese flavorful and hard and the wine good. Then topped off with peppermint tea and pastry! Wonderful night and so nice to see my baby who is not such a baby anymore. Thank you Paris. And thank you Morgan for getting me here before I ever would have gone!
Tomorrow, the The Parade of the Horse then off to tour museums and have fabulous food and fun.
