V - To Paris!!

DAY 6 - DAY 10 - 18 SEPTEMBER - 22 SEPTEMBER

We arrived at Waterloo station in plenty of time. Good thing, too. I would never have found the right entrance. It's very confusing around there: better to let the cab driver deposit you right at the door. Again, the luggage trollys are free (put a pound coin in to release the chain thingie, get it back when you chain it up again) so we loaded up and went looking for the gates and stuff. Found passport control and security, and a few minutes later we were inside. We found a friendly coffee shop and waited for the departure announcement. The trains leave from the upper part of the station, so we would have to take an escalator up, except for the **** luggage. Fortunately, there's an elevator (lift) which brings you right up to the platform. We took the lift and it turns out our car was right in front of us, so we just loaded the luggage on the racks provided in the train, and took our seats.

I had booked "standard class" tix. First was available, but the concensus was that it wasn't worth the extra expense. Since the trip is less than three hours, and we were never uncomfortable, I have to agree. Saved me a bundle of money, too.

A word here about the tickets: since we were only taking the train one way, I tried to book one way tix. It turns out that the one way price was about £250 (!), whereas a r/t was only £59. Naturally, I booked r/t and we kept the return ticket as a souvenir.

One more thing about the tickets: by mistake, I had booked the trip over on the wrong date, and they were supposed to be non-refundable, non-changeable. I noticed the error as soon as I got a confirmation email from them. I immediately emailed them back, but the response was "tough luck old boy". Hmmm. So I emailed another address, and whoever answered agreed that since it was an obvious mistake, if I booked the right dates they would cancel the other reservation. So I did and they did and everything worked out fine. Whew! Airlines should be so accomodating!

The train ride - what can I say? It's smooth. Makes two stops (I didn't know that); one just before the tunnel, and one just after. Other than that, it's a high-speed non-stop trip. It's faster on the French side, but the UK tracks have been fixed, and now it's supposed to be just as fast over there. Whatever, it was a relatively pleasant ride.

Finally, we pulled into Gare Du Nord. Paris at last! Couldn't wait to get outside and get a glimpse of the Tower. But first, the **** luggage. Again ... free trollys! Load'em up and make for the front door. What a line at the taxi stand! We'll be here for a while, I can see that. "M'sieu?" "Oui?" "Taxi?" "Oui!" "Follow me." Uh oh. Not sure what's happening here, but with a firm hand on my wallet we followed the taxi tout out another door. We waited until he went across the street and, sure enough, seconds later a taxi pulls up. We load the bags in the car. "Vitement! Vitement! C'est illegal!" OK, OK, I get the picture. I hold out some money and he grabs a bill (5 euros?) and off we go. The line at the station is still pretty long, so I figure we just bought a little time.

I gave the driver the address, and he makes his way to the Hilton. I watch him drive and I look at the surrounding neighborhood and traffic. It re-confirms my decision to not rent a car for use in Paris! They're crazy!

Finally, we pull up at the Hilton. The bellmen swarm over us and whisk the bags away. I pay off the driver and, desperately trying to look sophisticated, I stroll into the lobby and try to get us registered.

I had been warned that my paperwork might not have been in order, so I ask the concierge to direct me to the Diamond desk. Moments later, Richard, an english-speaking clerk, is looking at my confirmation letter and my Diamond card. Within ten seconds he has my reservation in his hand. Whew! That's one hurdle down. Now for the "Rich American" act.

"Well, Richard" I say, as I slide my Diamond card in his direction, "I asked for an upgraded room, tower view, lounge access; you know ... everything. What do I get?". He smiled at me and said "Why, everything, m'sieu." My little heart went pitter-pat.

"Actually", he continued, "I cannot give you a suite, but I'm sure you will be more than pleased with this room." Handing me the keys, we stepped over to the elevator and went up to see what kind of a room a Diamond gets at the Paris Hilton.

What this Diamond got was room 707. It's right across from the elevator, but we never heard a sound all the time we were there. As we entered the room, there on the table was a letter from the manager addressed to me, a bottle of wine and two glasses, some candies, and a tin of cookies. Mmmm, nice. I guess the wine was good, too - my knowledge of wine consists of a)Muscatel, and b)everything else. But that's not what's important! I immediately rushed out on the balcony, and there it was - the Tower! No craning, no leaning over - just sit down and there it was. Beautiful.

The room itself was a very good size, especially by European standards. Twin beds, night tables, dressers, TV, telephone, etc. The bathroom was very well-appointed; excellent tub/shower combination, very large sink, toilet, bidet. The amenities included the test-tube soap, shampoo, and conditioner, perfumed soap, a loofah pad, shower cap, miscellaneous things, and a box marked "Women". I didn't open that, 'cause I get a-skeered at stuff like that. And lots of big, fluffy towels, and a pair of fuzzy, terry-cloth robes. Mmmmmmmm.

We used the bidet to keep the beer cold.

The beds were made with duvets, as is the European custom. My wife, however, (and me, too) like to have a top sheet on the bed. When the bellman arrived with the luggage, I said to him "sheets". "Sheets?". "Oui." So, off he went, and quickly returned with ... towels. Ah, a language problem. I picked up the blankets on the bed and again said "sheets". He looked, and seemed to understand, and popped off again. He was back in a couple of minutes with ... sheets! Yaaaay. So; lots of smiles, a couple of Euros, and we were never without either sheets or towels again.

With all that taken care of, it was time to hit the lounge. Late afternoon, just enough time to see what's there before we strolled over to the Tower. Besides, I knew I'd have a trip report to write.

The lounge is on the 10th floor, and we were right across from the elevator, so it was just a matter of moments and we were at the lounge. The young lady in charge asked for our room number. I gave it to her, and after a quick look at the computer, we were welcomed in. It was the last time we were checked for anything. Maybe they remembered us, or maybe they were just lax. At any rate, we spent a lot of time in the lounge at all hours, and at all times it was friendly and inviting. It's divided into two sections; a smoking section on the left, with a couch, chair, and table for eating, and the non-smoking section with two tables, the food/drinks, and the door to the balcony. Outside, of course, is another smoking section. The French are very permissive about smoking.

As we found out later, they serve a continental breakfast from 6:30 to 9:30. The breakfast spread is quite nice: two or three different cereals, low-fat and regular milk, plates of cold, sliced ham (some of the best ham I've ever tasted!), some sliced salmon, juices (orange, tomato, grapefruit (pamplemousse - I love saying that!) ), oceans of coffee, and the usual baguettes and pastries. One can do quite well at breakfast.

From 9:30 until 5:50 PM (?), they just have free drinks (alcoholic and non) and snacks (peanuts, etc.) Then they bring out the evening munchies which vary from night to night but included some nice shrimp thingies and so forth. I have to admit, we didn't get back early enough to sample everything, but what we did get was very nice. They stopped serving the evening food at 9:30, but the drinks kept coming until 10:30. It was a nice way to end the day.

Back to the first day. Having checked out the lounge, and sampling a quick drink, we were off to the Tower, of course. After all, it's just down the street a block or two! Whoopee!

Well, of course we went up the Tower. It's mandatory.

There's no point in detailing everything we did for the next four days - we did what every other tourist does. With no car, we got around on the batobus (boat bus) and the Metro. We got all museumed and landmarked up (Musee d'Orsay, Notre Dame, Jardin des Plantes, Latin Quarter, etc. etc.) Never did make the Louvre. Saw my first pickpocket on the way back from the Arch de Triumph (yes, we climbed up to the top - all 284 steps!). Et cetera and et cetera. One cannot "do" Paris in four days. In four months, one might be getting accustomed with it. In four years, well, maybe.

On Saturday night, I had made my way down to the basement where the business center on the Hilton is. I located a computer room, and proceeded to log on to my email server (nice high-speed connection). The lady there came out and told me they were closing, but they would open at 8:00 AM the next day. I struggled with the European keyboard a bit, enough to get rid of the spam that had built up, and logged off.

On Sunday, Flyertalker willie--wonka stopped by for coffee and some advice on what to do in Paris. It was a very pleasant Sunday morning, indeed.

Laterthat afternoon, I went down to the business center, and logged on an open computer. The manager (?) came by and informed me the it was 0.30 euro/minute, and he wrote down the time on a slip of paper and went away. I hurried up, and logged off, but he was nowhere to be seen. Oh well. Does seem a bit steep, though.

It's worth mentioning that even now, about 8 days into the trip, I had barely seen a cloud in the sky. The sun was relentless, and it got into the 80's during the day. And, of course, the French have never mastered the art of air conditioning. I developed the habit of leaving the room-darkening curtains closed whenever we left the room - give the a/c a chance to keep up. I can understand how so many French people died with the 100 degree heat wave they had.

Had an interesting experience on Saturday (?) night. We were out on the balcony of the lounge. Just sipping a drink and looking at the Tower. There was a young couple there also - they asked me to take their picture. I did, and we started to talk. It was one of those stories you think don't happen in real life. Brian (his name) called Clare (her name) and asked her out to dinner. It was a "new restaurant near Waterloo Station". Well, OK ... what did she know? They got in a cab and drove to the station, where he unloaded the luggage (Luggage? What was her luggage doing there?). So they took the train and wound up in Paris. Took a cab to the Hilton, and Brian proposed to Clare! Naturally, she accepted. (Her mother had been in on it - packing the bags, getting the passport, etc.)

But wait ... there's more!

It seems that Brian had arranged with the Hilton to have the room ready with champagne, a cake with her name on it, and other stuff. When they got there, nothing was ready. Panicking, Brian ran down to the front desk to see what he could salvage. As soon as Hilton heard what was up, they immediately upgraded them to a better room (Tower view), gave them lounge access, and arranged for everything to show up in the new room.

IMO, that was a classy move by Hilton. Their incremental cost was very little and they left two people with a very friendly attitude toward Hilton. This is what the hospitality industry is all about: building long term relationships. When will the (US) airlines figure that out, rather than continually cheapening and commoditizing their product, and squeezing nickels and dimes from the passengers at every opportunity. End of rant.

Anyhow, by Monday my HHonor points had been used up, and I was just another American bum. Time to move on.

I had arranged for a car with Sixt. I believed the rental office was just a few blocks away from the Hilton, so I went looking for it. Clever me, I left the hotel without my map. I immediately got lost and had to ask the locals where to go. Luckily, "Avenue de Saxe" was pretty easy to blurt out in mangled French, and a cabbie finally put me straight. The clerk at Sixt spoke absolutely flawless idiomatic English (as well as what seemed to be perfect French). I was impressed. He seemed a little surprised to hear I was coming from ther Hilton. I later found out there's a Sixt office literally around the corner from the Hilton. Oh well ... live and learn. Next time.....

So - got in the car and made my way back to the Hilton. There are parking places across the street, but I wasn't able to figure out how to get the pay and display ticket. The hell with it. I just parked the car and went to get my wife and the ***** luggage. I was a bit of a hassle, but we made it. It was starting to rain.

I looked at the map, and figured out a way to get to the peripherique road (ring road) and get out of town. Unfortunately, the Franch have a habit of renaming streets every couple of blocks or so, and we got thoroughly lost in short order. I quickly wound up across the Seine, and my bump of direction kept pulling me towards the dreaded Circle of Doom around the Arch. I swore I'd never get sucked into that maelstrom but, sure enough, there I was - kamikaze heaven. I gritted my teeth, stepped on the gas, and cowboy'd my way around. As luck would have it, I eventually spied an opening and dove for it. Whew! Made it!

The rest of the ride was pretty anti-climactic. I made it to the ring road and pretty much followed the signs. In short order, we were out of the city and on our way east. Yee Hah! Rural France, here we come!