Paris, France

It’s a strange fact that the countries you are closest to are the ones you end up exploring last. My own country aside, of which I have seen precious little, France is the nearest foreign country for an Englishman to explore, and yet precious few do, save for those who rent vans for their pre-Christmas “booze cruises” to stock up on cheap red wine and fine continental beer. Even such events are increasingly rare, as the Euro reaches wincingly strong against the pound, meaning it is cheaper to buy in the UK, even with the high taxes on alcohol.

The painful Euro has eaten into my travels, too; Europe is no longer the bargain it used to be, and sadly I have a good memory for the prices I used to pay just a few years previous. Still, I put that to the back of my mind when I planned a jaunt to Paris, city of love… er, on my own.

I grabbed a cheap train ticket to London and then made my way to St. Pancras for the early morning Eurostar. The terminal was unlike most of the rest of London, being new, modern and clean. Bleary eyed, I boarded the train, which was soon rattling out of London, into the lovely countryside of south east England and moving to Paris.

You hardly notice the tunnel when you enter it – save for the dark, of course. And then within not too long you’re up and out the other side, in another country, that looks… well, similar to the one you just left. On first glance, anyway.

I reached Paris just over two hours from leaving London; not bad going at all. I was keen to check out the citywide bike scheme first and foremost, for my hostel, way out in the sticks, had a bike terminal outside it, so I was reliably informed. I paid less than €10 for a week’s “pass” to use the bikes anywhere in the (huge) area of Paris they covered, and it was shoestring money well spent. Not only did I get a whole lot of exercise and saved on metro tickets, but you get to see so much more above ground. And travelling is about seeing and experiencing more than a dark metro carriage.

As for sights, I took in the usual tourist traps: the Arc de Triomphe, the Seine, the Louvre, Notre Dame, and of course the Eiffel Tower, which brought my vertigo back with a vengeance. There is something about mesh wire structures that do me in, no matter how sturdy they look.

I drank a small amount of French beer; the Kronenbourg 1664 was marvellous, served in a proper “bowl” glass with a long stem, and tasted far superior to the brewed in England pap we get at home. In terms of cheap eats, I struggled a bit more, and went with the odd street kebab more than once. I can’t say I experienced fine wine and haute couture Parisian food, but I was well fed for the little money I had.

I came away from my five nights in Paris very much won-over by the city; it has a life, a vibrance, a charm that is compelling, even addictive. I do hope to come back soon… hopefully with a fair maiden in hand to enjoy this beautiful city of romance.