Posted on Monday, 3 April 2017

Julianne and Brian arrive in Paris by Eurostar. The many attractions of the City of Light await – but will Brian's security fears ruin their trip?

Unless you've had your head buried in the sand, you'll be aware of the unfortunate events that have befallen Paris over the last two years. It could put you off visiting the French capital, but I think that's a shame. For me, I always think statistically; the actual chances of something bad happening are still incredibly low.

My Brian, however, stands in the other camp.

For once, I let him choose the itinerary for our Paris break. What I shouldn't have done, in hindsight, is let him keep them a secret.

The Musée des égouts

"It's not the best time to come, dear, that's all I'm saying. The election, the protests and all the rest of it."

"You don't need to overreact, Brian. I think visiting the Paris Sewer museum is overdoing it a bit."

He clearly thought it was safer underground. I had to admit, however, that the experience of passing through the city's 'bowels' – as it were – was fascinating. The Musée des égouts de Paris lets you see all the pipes that carry storm water, communications – and of course the other unmentionables – to their various destinations.

The smell was strong of course, but that was to be expected. The five-ton 'flushing boat' was especially interesting and despite the pungent aroma, it was all sort of romantic, bringing to mind Victor Hugo's novel, Les Misérables – inspired by these very same tunnels.

The Musée des égouts de Paris had been first on Brian's secret itinerary after our two-hour train journey from London.

Gard du Nord

For the nervous traveller, arriving in Gard du Nord has never been the most relaxing experience. After boarding in the beautifully renovated, cathedral-like St Pancras station and enjoying a fast, smooth trip from Kent, passing under the Channel and through the French countryside, Gard du Nord can be a little underwhelming.

However, I for one like it, it's a bustling, exciting place, outside of which is the captivating La Chapelle area – more North Africa than North Paris. The street food, the noise – it was all very alive. Certainly, you have to keep your eyes on your belongings, but ultimately it's a safe place.

I could sense Brian eyeing the armed guards around the station.

"Calm down Brian, it's safe as houses,"

As we boarded the N11 bus, Brian's attention turned to pickpockets. He was eyeing everyone – even elderly ladies.

"Oh come on Brian, she's not going to pinch your wallet."

Hotel-Residence Foch

The Hotel-Residence Foch, located on a quiet residential street, was also Brian's choice. And I could see why. It was in a 'good neighbourhood', with a number of embassies nearby. In Brian's mind, this was like the 'green zone' of a war-torn city.

The staff at the Foch were, I admit, marvellous – as was our room. We were allowed to check in early and have a snooze before heading out to the sewers – which would stand in dramatic contrast to our plush hotel room.

Old Bones

The next morning, after a wonderful breakfast (fresh baguettes, butter, jambon, coffee) at the Foch, we hopped in a taxi and sped off to the next item on Brian's secret itinerary.

Initially, my heart sank when I clocked the sign: Cimetière du Montparnasse.

"Brian, is this a joke? We've come to the City of Light, the City of Love – and you've taken me to a cemetery?"

"Darling, this is the final resting place for some of France's artistic and literary greats!"

It was true. In the bracing spring air we strolled around this vast, quiet old cemetery. We found the tomb of Baudelaire and the grave of Jean-Paul Satre.

"Hell is other people," said Brian, quoting one of Satre's most famous lines.

"Well, if that's true we've come to the right place, Brian!"

It was a strangely fascinating experience – and was a pleasant respite from the city's noisy streets. All those old bones beneath us – they somehow provided a deeper connection with the city's amazing past.

As absorbing as the visit was, I could tell Brian picked it because he thought it was the least likely place for anything bad to happen.

I managed to squeeze the next destination out of Brian: Musée de la Poupée.

"A doll museum? Brian, since when have you had an interest in dolls? Are you taking me to the most obscure places in Paris?"

"They have 500 dolls dating from the 1800s, dear."

"We are not going to the doll museum, Brian."

Pont Alexandre III

Somehow, I dragged Brian off to the Pont Alexandre III, regarded as the city's most beautiful bridge. Its graceful deck arch was a true wonder and a great location from which to view the old Seine. We could also see the Eiffel Tower nearby, but Brian didn't want to get any closer to that 'silly old giraffe'. Besides – we'd both been many years before and had no appetite for queues.

Freedom of the City

After two nights, Brian started to relax and we were soon enjoying the many delights of the city – not least of which was the shopping. We got used to the security guards and became emboldened, taking on the laid-back coffee-sipping manner of the locals.

This great city was home to some of the greatest artists, writers and thinkers of the 20th century. Orwell washed pots here, Satre lurked in the city's cafes, Miller indulged his lascivious desires, Hemmingway got into punch-ups, Marie Antoinette lost her head...

It truly was – and is – a city of liberty. It seemed only right to enjoy our freedom.

Michelin-starred Septime

On our final night we treated ourselves to a Michelin-star restaurant – the Septime. In fact, we'd had to book it two weeks in advance, such is its popularity.

We opted for the six course degustation menu, which included Fromages de la maison Quatrehomme, an amazing fish plate and a delicate artichoke-based dish. Creative, innovative cuisine – and a revelation for the taste buds. The choice of wines was also fantastic, complementing the food perfectly. It was rather expensive – but, when in Paris...

We emerged from Septime and strolled along the twilight streets of the French capital. Brian's fears seemed to have evaporated.

That was, until he began patting his pockets.

"What is it Brian?"

"My phone, where is it? Oh no."

"Brian... you've got to keep your wits about you."

Suddenly all the strange faces around us were a little threatening. After all this, we'd been pickpocketed on our final night!

But just then a hand tapped Brian on the shoulder. A man stood behind us, out of breath. On his black apron was the Septime logo. His arm was outstretched.

"Monsieur," he said, panting, "You left your phone."

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