London v Paris
By Patito, published on 30 June 2010
One Thursday night we unexpectedly ended up in the city of lights. Called to the Paris office for urgent business, we stayed the weekend, tried out some of the city’s trendiest neighbourhoods and ate and drank our way through the next 48 hours. But faced with a professional dilemma and a potential move to Paris, there was one question on our mind all weekend: Paris or London?
What better way to try out a city than to hang out with locals? So on our first night, we met up with a young German diplomat friend who lives in the Quartier Latin, just across the road from Notre Dame. A buzzing studenty neighbourhood, he took us to a little brasserie around the corner from his beautiful three bedroom flat (complete with balcony that runs the whole length of the building…poky London flats, anyone?). Le Relais de la Bucherie has a little closed off terrace at the front and that was where we sat enjoying the balmy June evening with a glass of champagne, a large 1664 beer (affectionately known as simply “une seize” by locals) and a plate of fromage.
On our second evening, and following a rather stressful day in the office (well, as stressful as it can get when your office literally looks out over Place Vendôme. Oh yes, baby!), we met up with an old university friend with piercing blue eyes and a cheeky sense of humour who is now comfortably installed in Neuilly-sur-Seine. He picked us up at our hotel, a Best Western conveniently located off Place de la Madeleine, at 7.30pm. We jumped in a taxi and headed to the Hotel de Ville in the 3eme arrondissement. Know where that is? No, neither did the taxi driver. (Don’t they have the knowledge in Paris?) Snubbing the traditional Paris attitude, the chauffeur de taxi cheerfully got out his A-Z and asked for assistance. When we arrived at our destination, he was suddenly even more cheerful: “Mais qu’est-ce qu’il est gentil le monsieur! Regardez-moi ca!“ What was he talking about? “Il est sorti pour vous ourvir la porte!“ Surely, this wasn’t the first time a man had opened a car door for a lady in Paris…or was it? Having said that, we certainly didn’t remember Blue Eyes being so gallant. Had Paris turned this Englishman into a gentleman? Or had we all just grown up a little?
We walked around, looking for a brasserie that (a) looked like we might get a decent meal and (b) was showing the Spain match (even in Paris there was no getting away from Spanish fever). We stumbled upon Le Sancerre, a lively place on a corner that was busy enough but still had a table with a view of the tv. Blue Eyes ordered a boeuf tartare (“mais sans les oignons“), while we (mistakenly) went for the bavette à l’échalote and asked for it to be cooked saignant. When it came, the bavette was tough, chewy and cooked for far too long. “Ouais, je me suis trompé quand j’ai placé la commande“, said our waiter, “j’ai demandé que ce soit à point“. Spot the apology there? No, neither did we. But somehow it didn’t matter because the crème brûlée that followed was exquisite. Well, we thought so. Blue Eyes awarded it a meagre 6/10.
After dinner, we headed across the square and joined Blue Eyes’s friends who were celebrating a birthday. Who says Parisians are unfriendly? This group was warm, welcoming, interested and above all, funny. OK, so they’d had a few drinks, but so had we.
The following day we walked to the Tuileries, past Rue Saint Honoré and its plush shops, through Concorde, and then along the quai. We popped into Les Lalanne exhibition at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs which we’d read about some months ago in The Economist. A fabulously surreal collection of the intriguing and amusing, it was a pleasant stop on our tour.
Saturday night, we ate at Yooki, a Japanese restaurant around the corner from our hotel. Prepared by a sushi chef in the back of the room, our meal was wonderfully fresh, tasty and served – once again – with a Parisian smile. Where were these horrible people we had heard so much about? “Because it is summer and they are happy to have tourists” we were informed on more than one occasion by locals. Whatever the reason, they were truly delightful.
After dinner, we headed to Paris’ answer to Shoreditch for yet another birthday party. An über trendy neighbourhood, Quai de Valmy is where the cool cats congregate on Saturday afternoons for canal-side picnics. Homemade mini quiches, roquefort cake and bottles and bottles of rosé wine were lined up along the canal on makeshift buffet tables (well, paper tablecloths laid along the edge of the water). And that’s how we spent our Saturday evening, chilling by the canal with all our new Parisian pals. Like the exhibition, it was a little surreal but fun. At 2am, we called it a night and headed back to the more familiar surrounds of the 8eme.
On Sunday, we walked down to the Champs Elysées (what trip to Paris is complete without a little wander down one of the most famous streets in the world?) and popped into the Marriott hotel for a croque monsieur. Well, that’s what Blue Eyes ordered. We chose a club sandwich, making a most hideous mistake as it was riddled with a pet hate: boiled eggs. Blue eyes immediately swapped plates. “I’ll have it, I don’t mind“. Mais qu’est-ce qu’il est gentil le monsieur! But no sooner had he swapped plates than he downed tools in disgust, “is that an onion?“ Surely not. But it certainly looked like one. What was an onion doing in a club sandwich? “Let’s just order something else”, he said. But at Champs Elysées prices we weren’t convinced that was wise and swapped plates back again. Sure enough, when the bill came, our rookie mistake had cost us dear. Then again, what did we expect in a hotel in this part of town? We laughed it off and promised to learn from the experience.
Paris in June makes for a wonderful weekend, truly wonderful. But was this the real Paris? Or was everyone – including Blue Eyes – on their best behaviour? If this was real, we’d happily pack our bags and make the move to Paris. But how will we feel about leaving our beloved London? Decisions, decisions…
Le Relais de la Bucherie, 1 rue de la Bucherie, 75005 Paris, Tel: +33 1 43 29 73 57
Le Sancerre, 87 rue des Archives, 75003 Paris, Tel: +33 1 42 72 65 20
Yooki Sushi Madeleine, 1 rue Castellane, 75008 Paris, Tel: +33 1 49 24 00 24
Les Lalanne (18 March 2010–4 July 2010), Musée des Arts Décoratifs, 107 rue de Rivoli, 75001 Paris, Tel: +33 1 44 55 57 50
Best Western Premier Hotel Opal, 19 rue Tronchet, 75008 Paris
London v Paris
One Thursday night we unexpectedly ended up in the city of lights. Called to the Paris office for urgent business, we stayed the weekend, tried out some of the city’s trendiest neighbourhoods and ate and drank our way through the next 48 hours. But faced with a professional dilemma and a potential move to Paris, [...]
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