Our summer 2010 trip was meant to be another wonderful romantic short break to the great city of love for Sue and I during one of our school summer holiday breaks.
The plan was clear; a 3 day trip – one exploring a bit more of Paris itself, one visiting Versailles and a day experiencing Eurodisney – none of our children had produced a grandchild yet and we felt we might otherwise lose out. All booked and the tickets printed and organised, as we did then, in their plastic wallets.
The same hotel we had stayed in once before was booked. We arrived on a lovely summer day. The hotel had noted our previous visits and offered us the top floor suite, but with the proviso that we’d have to wait a bit for it to be made ready. So, cases lodged, we went for a waltz, well actually we don’t ballroom – we could never decide who should lead – around the Tulleries.
We noticed a bit of a change in the weather as we headed back, but didn’t think much of it. Back at the hotel we were impressed with the lovely large room, housing a king bed with a lovely white duvet, a sitting area with coffee table and arm chairs, all placed on a very luxurious deep pile cream carpet. We were tired so thought a nice nap on the lovely bed would be good. As it was still very hot we opened both sets of double ‘french’ doors which led onto a small balcony. Off we drifted with the slight sounds of the big city drifting into the room .
An hour or so later we were awaken by a loud bang. Thunder. The most viscous storm was raging outside – unfortunately it had also raged inside our room and we found the carpet throughly drenched and as wet as a soggy dog. Not much we could do, but let it dry out we thought and hoped it didn’t smell wet dog like. But then we noticed that the top of the coffee table was also flooded. All our printed tickets, although stored in plastic wallets were also thoroughly drenched. A quick unpacking and spreading out of the papers took place. Sue’s hairdryer was brought into play and after a while we thought we’d done pretty good job in recovering them. Ah well that’s life, just the start.
A day exploring how the trains linked and operated for our journey to Versailles. A day of thundering rain that magically cleared to revel sunshine and a place of golden wonder. Water still featured heavily though with magnificent fountain displays. After a tiring day we got back to our hotel. The French have never (in my view) been good at coffee or hotel room hospitality. So despite ‘rules’ we always took along a small kettle and my coffee od choice, along with a large mug of course. Time for a lovely coffee I thought and duly made one.
Sue complained it was too hot in the room so I went over to the thermostat cup in hand. A broad gesture with my arm out (coffee still in hand) to indicate I’d managed to outwit the temp setting controls, was greeted by the presence of Sue sweeping past me. Unfortunately, the coffee mug and Sue came into contact. An upward ‘coffee-fall’ seemed to take a timeless route through the air to finally land on the lovely white duvet! Oh my good, what a mess! The carpet got off lightly, but was still damp anyway from the day before!
‘We’ve got to own up to it, kettle and all’, I ventured. ‘No, no I can solve this’ says Sue. Off with the duvet, off with the clothes and into the shower she goes and spends some time on developing a new wash programme 10 +1 ! All good – its very clean (relatively). Now how to get it dry? That hair dryer was a work horse. Did the best she could and then just accepted it had to be left to dry off more overnight while hanging up. A night spent with a bare duvet.
The bed roughly remade in the morning we hoped the room maid wouldn’t notice anything. Off we set to negotiate more trains for our EuroDisney day. I don’t think Wet Wet Wet was a current song then, but it was our reality. A quick trip around some of the park and we got in place to watch the Disney parade. All was going well until yet more heavy rain began to fall. Typically French, the shop shut up before the make up could begin to run, and that was the day effectively over. So yet again feeling washed out we travelled back to the hotel. Room all good, no notes from housekeeping, things were looking up again.
We were due to go home the next day so we checked the Eurostar ticket times to plan what we could do. That’s good, they showed our train wasn’t until c 8.30pm. Time to do some more sightseeing, pick up our cases late PM, head for the area around Gare du Nord and have a meal in a local restaurant before boarding the train home. Good plan.
Our day included visiting the Louvre. As usual it was packed out, but worth the pain. At some point we needed the Louvre’s loos. More water themes! All straightforward for me – in and out. Sue meanwhile had joined the ladies queue. It hadn’t moved much when I came out. Although not usually a rule or etiquette breaker, I boldly took Sue by the hand, told her to walk confidently with me looking straight ahead and took her into the men’s loo, guiding her into an empty cubicle. The French do very good raised eyebrows! On the way out those women that had noticed our bold move were busy collecting their escorts and, as we headed off, there was a great deal of parading down the ramp.
Arriving at Gare du Nord we looked around and found a reasonable looking restaurant just across the road, settled in and knocked back a comfortable menu. Arriving at the Eurostar reception area we were surprised by how few people there were, just 3 or 4 in front of us in the queue. Taking out our tickets I had a fresh look. ‘Oh my god, that wasn’t 8.30pm, they’ve run from the rainwater, it was 6.30pm’! These were economy (c£50) fixed price and fixed time, tickets. An english lady behind us overheard our panicky conversation. I don’t know if it helps but my husband can’t travel back with me tonight as planned so I have a spare ticket for the next train out she says. That’s very helpful, thanks we say. But no! The sharp Eurostar desk French bitch lady says ‘non non, you can’t do that. You must buy new tickets”. Thanks, bitch we both thought, but no amount of polite remonstrating moved her hardheart. So what are our options then ? The only option apparently was to buy two 1st class tickets on the later train; at around £200 each!
We consider alternatives; stay another night and try for cheaper tickets, a coach ? Not practical; responsibilities call at home. So pricey tickets were purchased. We did not part ‘le meilleur ami’ with the bitch lady. Just to completely rub it in the train was virtually empty – 1st class almost completely. The train was cold, the food was crap and we were very tired.
The next morning at home Sue got stuck into sorting our soiled clothing, adding her jeans into the wash. More wet stuff. On taking her jeans out something drops on the floor. Her passport, showing her washed up, much as she felt at that point. That was another £60 for a new passport.
A long weekend dominated by water torture incidents! We still love Paris though.
NODROG'S WORLD 
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