A weekend in Paris
Dec 5, 2001 | 11:24 am
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: From and of Boston.
Posts: 4,973
A weekend in Paris
Overview
Dates: Nov 29 – Dec 3
Purpose: Fun, without spending an arm and a leg
Travel planning
AA.com was offering a Boston-Paris RT for about $250+taxes; total fare wound up being $307. Upgrades were available when I booked the flight, so I spent the 50k miles to get into C. I'd get roughly 32k miles for the RT (incl. PLT, DBLAA, and AA.com bonuses, plus 10k for exchanging the 4 upgrades that I'd earn), so the net cost of the C RT was $307 plus 18k miles.
I wanted to stay on the left bank, somewhere near the St Germain des Pres area. There's no shortage of choices, and most hotels have plenty of rooms available. I wound up with reservations at the Holiday Inn St Germain des Pres at a corporate rate of 800F/night (about US$107), with a request for an upgrade using an AA certificate.
Getting there
I got to Logan Thursday afternoon at 4.15, 2-1/2 hours before the scheduled flight time. Check-in took 20 minutes, because the agent wasn't familiar with the (unnecessarily complicated) procedure of using a paper certificate to upgrade a RT. It was another 20 minutes to get through security, but no problems taking a rollaway plus a laptop-sized bag. The Admiral's Club was busy and unexceptional, but the cocktails convinced me that I was on vacation.
AA146 was 3/4-full in business, 1/2-full in coach. The 2 FAs in C were attentive and pleasant, and neither my seat nor (apparently) anyone else's was broken. A FA insisted on pulling down everyone's window shade, which I didn't quite understand because the flight left 2 hrs after sunset and would arrive an hour before sunrise, but whatever. I asked for the all-at-once dinner, which I got within 20 minutes after take-off, ordering the scallop and shrimp risotto and a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. The "risotto" was more of a congealed rice pudding, but it was tasty and filling, and the wine was a delightful surprise. It was then dodo time (sleep, for non-francophones) until the "prepare for arrival announcement.
After a 0 mins wait at immigration, I set off to find the arrivals lounge, as documented in the AA board here at FlyerTalk. I took the elevator down to Level 0, and this was clearly the wrong place: stark concrete, a door leading to a parking garage, other doors that seemed to lead to boiler rooms, definitely not a place for the public. Back upstairs to get directions, only to be told to go back to Level 0 and look for the "cowboy doors." Cazart! There were the cowboy doors, and on the other side was a sign for American Airlines lounge, a/k/a Nirvana after an overnight flight. I was the only customer, and the attendant led me to a welcome (if typically French-funky) shower room, complete with all the supplies I'd need. Plus, also thanks to FT info, I pulled a clean shirt and slacks out of my rollaway, hung them in the little 2-way closet, and buzzed the attendant to let her know about the shirt/pants. Ten minutes later, I am showered, and my shirt and slacks are pressed. Life is good.
Being There
A somewhat wayward taxi ride to the Holiday Inn (either the driver didn't know that the Porte d'Asnieres wasn't really between CDG and St G d P, or he didn't know that I knew better), an easy check-in, and delight that an upgrade is available. I'm in room 711, the Stendahl Room on the top floor, an enormous room by Paris standards. The ceiling slopes, of course, but I do have a view of the top half of the Eiffel Tower. The hotel is in an excellent location, on the rue de Rennes between the Boulevard St Germain and the Montparnasse tower. It's less than 2 minutes from St Placide or Rennes metro stations, and an easy walk to anywhere in St Germain des Pres and Luxembourg Gardens.
Friday afternoon is spent looking for and finding a great pair of shoes at the Camper shoe store. Was also looking for the perfect pair of gloves, but never found them. My favorite activity in Paris is walking the streets, with no particular destination or route in mind, just exploring. And when it's time to rest, find a café, plunk myself down, and enjoy a coffee or a chocolate while watching the people of Paris pass by. Honestly, it doesn't get a whole lot better than that.
Going to the movies is a treat in Paris: if you've never done it, give it a try. Before the film, in addition to the coming attractions, there's a whole series of advertisements, many of which are a serious hoot. I'll almost always go to English-language movies, especially if I can find ones that haven't been released in the U.S. (Tip: if you want to see a movie in English, be sure that you see "v.o." [version originale] after the title; if "v.f." [version francaise] is after the title, the movie is dubbed.) Wound up seeing the Coen brothers movie, "The Man Who Wasn't There," and later on "Last Resort," a British movie that likely won't make it to the U.S.
I went over to the Tourist Office next to the Arc de Triomphe to pick up 10%-off cards for the Printemps and Galleries Lafayette department stores and to change all my EU currency into francs. Alas, my Belgian 500-franc note is useful only as wallpaper; they withdrew that type of note from circulation about 6-8 years ago I'm told. So I'm off to the stores to pick up a few presents for friends/family and several pairs of socks for myself. Why is it that men can find great socks only in Paris?
Beasts Running Amok
It's Sunday morning, around 10 o'clock, and what better time to saunter over to the Luxembourg Gardens. But, yikes!, did someone season my croissant with funny powder? There, in the middle of the rue de Fleurus, are 12 mules. So, after some thought, it became clear that the mules were being led by some guy who'd be selling mule rides to little kids in the gardens. But I'm still wondering where the mules came from.
OK, so it's now 11 and I've wandered down to where St Michel meets St Germain, and there's an odd aroma. And the clippity-clop of horses. Which would be fine if this were the Bois de Boulogne. Lo, behold, and whatever else, here comes horsey after horsey, in some sort of parade celebrating, well, horses. Lots of fun to watch if, like me, you're a pedestrian enjoying the street scene. Far less fun, apparently, if you're sitting in a car, waiting for the foolish parade to pass by. And the French, bless em, deal with one of the practical problems by having two trucks, each with movable pod-brushes, following the parade and instantly cleaning up les cacas des chevaux.
Two hours later, I've ambled back up to Montparnasse via Berthillon's ice cream on Ile St Louis, and gadzooks, it's the d@mned horse parade again. And still followed by the merde-sweepers. Paris is never dull.
Going Home
OK, so I left out some stuff. Including buying a bottle of Beaujolais-Villages Nouveau. And, to open it, a corkscrew (a "Le barman" brand, for those interested). So what to do with the corkscrew on the way home? I could leave it in the hotel room, but it's a nice corkscrew and trip souvenir. I could check my rollaway, but that sort of negates the whole point of carry-on only luggage. Or I could be a would-be desperado and try to smuggle the corkscrew onto the plane. I chose option 3, figuring that it would be unthinkable to the French consciousness that a tir-bouchon would be used for anything but pulling a bouchon out of a bouteille. And I sailed through security and X-ray, nary a word about Le Barman.
I stopped over at the Cathay Pacific lounge, on the hunch that they'd have better stuff to eat & drink than the Admiral's Club. They gave me a slightly hard time ("but you're traveling on American Airlines, Monsieur"), but after a phone call or two decided that the OneWorld rules are rules, so an AA PLT could go in. At which point I then wondered why, as the lounge was tiny, the food nearly non-existent, and the wines barely average. The CDG Admiral's Club, on the other hand, was relatively enormous and pleasantly furnished. There was still no worthwhile food, but at least it was quiet and comfortable.
The Monday CDG-BOS flight was about as full as the eastbound flight, and the service was even more attentive. DVD players w/noise-canceling headphones were handed out soon after take-off, and we could keep them until about 20 minutes before landing. I had the boeuf (pot roast – perfectly acceptable for airline food) for lunch with a few glasses of Chateau Lynch-Bages (well above acceptable). The flight landed on-time, and then we got to sit at the gate for 25 minutes because the US Immigration "Service" did not have enough personnel to handle our flight and the flight that had arrived a few moments previously. Eventually got through that nightmare, got lost trying to find the entrance to the parking garage (a bit embarrassing at one's home airport), and was amazed that the trip from Logan through the tunnel and up Route 93 was nearly traffic-free at 5pm on a Monday night. Lola greeted me with almost no attitude when I got home, and the weekend was over.
Dates: Nov 29 – Dec 3
Purpose: Fun, without spending an arm and a leg
Travel planning
AA.com was offering a Boston-Paris RT for about $250+taxes; total fare wound up being $307. Upgrades were available when I booked the flight, so I spent the 50k miles to get into C. I'd get roughly 32k miles for the RT (incl. PLT, DBLAA, and AA.com bonuses, plus 10k for exchanging the 4 upgrades that I'd earn), so the net cost of the C RT was $307 plus 18k miles.
I wanted to stay on the left bank, somewhere near the St Germain des Pres area. There's no shortage of choices, and most hotels have plenty of rooms available. I wound up with reservations at the Holiday Inn St Germain des Pres at a corporate rate of 800F/night (about US$107), with a request for an upgrade using an AA certificate.
Getting there
I got to Logan Thursday afternoon at 4.15, 2-1/2 hours before the scheduled flight time. Check-in took 20 minutes, because the agent wasn't familiar with the (unnecessarily complicated) procedure of using a paper certificate to upgrade a RT. It was another 20 minutes to get through security, but no problems taking a rollaway plus a laptop-sized bag. The Admiral's Club was busy and unexceptional, but the cocktails convinced me that I was on vacation.
AA146 was 3/4-full in business, 1/2-full in coach. The 2 FAs in C were attentive and pleasant, and neither my seat nor (apparently) anyone else's was broken. A FA insisted on pulling down everyone's window shade, which I didn't quite understand because the flight left 2 hrs after sunset and would arrive an hour before sunrise, but whatever. I asked for the all-at-once dinner, which I got within 20 minutes after take-off, ordering the scallop and shrimp risotto and a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. The "risotto" was more of a congealed rice pudding, but it was tasty and filling, and the wine was a delightful surprise. It was then dodo time (sleep, for non-francophones) until the "prepare for arrival announcement.
After a 0 mins wait at immigration, I set off to find the arrivals lounge, as documented in the AA board here at FlyerTalk. I took the elevator down to Level 0, and this was clearly the wrong place: stark concrete, a door leading to a parking garage, other doors that seemed to lead to boiler rooms, definitely not a place for the public. Back upstairs to get directions, only to be told to go back to Level 0 and look for the "cowboy doors." Cazart! There were the cowboy doors, and on the other side was a sign for American Airlines lounge, a/k/a Nirvana after an overnight flight. I was the only customer, and the attendant led me to a welcome (if typically French-funky) shower room, complete with all the supplies I'd need. Plus, also thanks to FT info, I pulled a clean shirt and slacks out of my rollaway, hung them in the little 2-way closet, and buzzed the attendant to let her know about the shirt/pants. Ten minutes later, I am showered, and my shirt and slacks are pressed. Life is good.
Being There
A somewhat wayward taxi ride to the Holiday Inn (either the driver didn't know that the Porte d'Asnieres wasn't really between CDG and St G d P, or he didn't know that I knew better), an easy check-in, and delight that an upgrade is available. I'm in room 711, the Stendahl Room on the top floor, an enormous room by Paris standards. The ceiling slopes, of course, but I do have a view of the top half of the Eiffel Tower. The hotel is in an excellent location, on the rue de Rennes between the Boulevard St Germain and the Montparnasse tower. It's less than 2 minutes from St Placide or Rennes metro stations, and an easy walk to anywhere in St Germain des Pres and Luxembourg Gardens.
Friday afternoon is spent looking for and finding a great pair of shoes at the Camper shoe store. Was also looking for the perfect pair of gloves, but never found them. My favorite activity in Paris is walking the streets, with no particular destination or route in mind, just exploring. And when it's time to rest, find a café, plunk myself down, and enjoy a coffee or a chocolate while watching the people of Paris pass by. Honestly, it doesn't get a whole lot better than that.
Going to the movies is a treat in Paris: if you've never done it, give it a try. Before the film, in addition to the coming attractions, there's a whole series of advertisements, many of which are a serious hoot. I'll almost always go to English-language movies, especially if I can find ones that haven't been released in the U.S. (Tip: if you want to see a movie in English, be sure that you see "v.o." [version originale] after the title; if "v.f." [version francaise] is after the title, the movie is dubbed.) Wound up seeing the Coen brothers movie, "The Man Who Wasn't There," and later on "Last Resort," a British movie that likely won't make it to the U.S.
I went over to the Tourist Office next to the Arc de Triomphe to pick up 10%-off cards for the Printemps and Galleries Lafayette department stores and to change all my EU currency into francs. Alas, my Belgian 500-franc note is useful only as wallpaper; they withdrew that type of note from circulation about 6-8 years ago I'm told. So I'm off to the stores to pick up a few presents for friends/family and several pairs of socks for myself. Why is it that men can find great socks only in Paris?
Beasts Running Amok
It's Sunday morning, around 10 o'clock, and what better time to saunter over to the Luxembourg Gardens. But, yikes!, did someone season my croissant with funny powder? There, in the middle of the rue de Fleurus, are 12 mules. So, after some thought, it became clear that the mules were being led by some guy who'd be selling mule rides to little kids in the gardens. But I'm still wondering where the mules came from.
OK, so it's now 11 and I've wandered down to where St Michel meets St Germain, and there's an odd aroma. And the clippity-clop of horses. Which would be fine if this were the Bois de Boulogne. Lo, behold, and whatever else, here comes horsey after horsey, in some sort of parade celebrating, well, horses. Lots of fun to watch if, like me, you're a pedestrian enjoying the street scene. Far less fun, apparently, if you're sitting in a car, waiting for the foolish parade to pass by. And the French, bless em, deal with one of the practical problems by having two trucks, each with movable pod-brushes, following the parade and instantly cleaning up les cacas des chevaux.
Two hours later, I've ambled back up to Montparnasse via Berthillon's ice cream on Ile St Louis, and gadzooks, it's the d@mned horse parade again. And still followed by the merde-sweepers. Paris is never dull.
Going Home
OK, so I left out some stuff. Including buying a bottle of Beaujolais-Villages Nouveau. And, to open it, a corkscrew (a "Le barman" brand, for those interested). So what to do with the corkscrew on the way home? I could leave it in the hotel room, but it's a nice corkscrew and trip souvenir. I could check my rollaway, but that sort of negates the whole point of carry-on only luggage. Or I could be a would-be desperado and try to smuggle the corkscrew onto the plane. I chose option 3, figuring that it would be unthinkable to the French consciousness that a tir-bouchon would be used for anything but pulling a bouchon out of a bouteille. And I sailed through security and X-ray, nary a word about Le Barman.
I stopped over at the Cathay Pacific lounge, on the hunch that they'd have better stuff to eat & drink than the Admiral's Club. They gave me a slightly hard time ("but you're traveling on American Airlines, Monsieur"), but after a phone call or two decided that the OneWorld rules are rules, so an AA PLT could go in. At which point I then wondered why, as the lounge was tiny, the food nearly non-existent, and the wines barely average. The CDG Admiral's Club, on the other hand, was relatively enormous and pleasantly furnished. There was still no worthwhile food, but at least it was quiet and comfortable.
The Monday CDG-BOS flight was about as full as the eastbound flight, and the service was even more attentive. DVD players w/noise-canceling headphones were handed out soon after take-off, and we could keep them until about 20 minutes before landing. I had the boeuf (pot roast – perfectly acceptable for airline food) for lunch with a few glasses of Chateau Lynch-Bages (well above acceptable). The flight landed on-time, and then we got to sit at the gate for 25 minutes because the US Immigration "Service" did not have enough personnel to handle our flight and the flight that had arrived a few moments previously. Eventually got through that nightmare, got lost trying to find the entrance to the parking garage (a bit embarrassing at one's home airport), and was amazed that the trip from Logan through the tunnel and up Route 93 was nearly traffic-free at 5pm on a Monday night. Lola greeted me with almost no attitude when I got home, and the weekend was over.
Dec 10, 2001 | 1:46 pm
#3
Join Date: Feb 2001
Location: Rio Rancho, NM - USA
Programs: DL, UA, WN, Amtrak, Hyatt, Accor
Posts: 1,795
Wideman - Great report. What a great $$ + mileage deal! I thought only women could spend a whole afternoon in Paris shopping for a particular item. Your muley and horsey encounter, followed by the doo doo sweepers, is Paris classique. Thanks for your musings.