Paris Trip Report - Eat, Drink and Be Merry
 

November 2007 was a great month for me. I spent a week in Paris with my BFF from college, Samantha. We live across the country from each other, and meet up in Paris once a year to catch up on "girl talk". The motto of this trip was "Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, for Tomorrow our Dollar will be Worth Even Less" :)

A few weeks later, I would return to Paris with my two little boys, because my husband, the World Traveler (WT), was working in Europe over Thanksgiving. So, I was going to have "my cake and eat it too" - a decadent time indulging in eating great food, drinking champagne and window shopping, then hanging out with my kids and living like a local in Paris. Since I believe that a trip to Paris without visiting the famous museums and churches is sacrilegious, Samantha was psyched because it means that I won't be dragging her into visiting the Louvre or Orsay for the 100th time. I can do all the "culture" stuff with my kids, and focus on partying with her.

My report is a series of anecdotes about my travels. The first two sections talk about how I got to Paris. The third section, with more to come, describes great places to eat, drink and be merry.

Chapter 1: The Mystery of 21J

My husband basically travels full-time for work, with the majority of the travel being international. Truthfully, I'm not very fond of the arrangement. Its hard with him being gone most of the time. However, I do love the perks. When you spend two days a week on a plane, the airlines shower you with free upgrades and FF miles. So when I travel I always fly first or business class. Except this trip. I was booked in coach.

I was cool sitting in coach, but when I got to the gate, I was surrounded by a mixed group of party-goers. I first noticed this group in the bar while I was waiting to board. They were drinking martinis, dressed to the nines and having a blast. It was like a scene out of "Sex in the City." Since I spend most of my time working on a computer, then playing games with a 5 and 6 year old, the scene reminded me of my carefree, happy hour lifestyle before kids. Sigh..

One of the tall blondes sauntered up to the gate in her four inch heels, and came back giggling to her group, "We're in Business Class. Score." She high-fives her group. Her friend, a statuesque Naomi Campbell look alike says, "I'm going to try it, too". Minutes later she returns. "We're in Business, too. I hope they have enough champagne for all of us."

What's with this. When I fly business its usually boring with a capital B. All old men traveling for business. And, no one partying it up. This group reminds me of the glory days of travel, when flying was actually fun. As one never to pass up a chance to party, I call WT on my cell phone. "All these chicks next to me are getting upgraded to business. Can I get upgraded too?"

"Yes," WT says, "I can't do it for you from here. You can use your miles. But, I wouldn't do it. You're sitting in "21J". I'd rather sit in 21J than business. Its the best seat on the plane."

"Better than business"

"Better than business."

"But, you get free drinks in business."

"I gave you five free drink coupons. Isn't that enough for you? Trust me. Stick with 21J".

Trust me. How come every time someone says "Trust Me" I expect the absolute worst. The sixth member of the "party" party walks back from the desk announcing that she and her boyfriend also got upgraded. Their screams of glee got to me. That's it. I'm sitting in business, too.

I walk up to the desk. "Can I help you?", asks the fresh faced attendant.

"Is it possible for me to upgrade to business class?" She click clacks her keyboard.

"Yes. We can put you in sit 6A and ..."

She wrinkles up her nose and scrunches her face. Oh no. This doesn't look good.

She leans forward to me like she wants to tell me a secret. "Miss, I really not supposed to do this, but you realize that you are in seat 21J."

"Yes."

"21J is the best seat on the plane. When I fly, I'd rather sit in 21J than business class."

"Its that good?" I ask.

"Yes, its a great seat. I'm only mentioning it because you using miles to upgrade and ..." I must have not look convinced because she starts to back track, "but, business class is also superb. You'll get a better meal, It's up to you..." She trails off.

What is it with this seat in coach? I'm now curious to see what all the raves are about. "Ok. I'll keep 21J". The attendant beams. She flashes me a huge, perfect smile and says, "Great. And, you have 21J on the return trip also. Lucky you."

I board the plane, looking at the seat numbers above my head. I almost walk past 21J. I didn't notice that this was an actual row. Its a huge gap, with two seats. My jaw hangs open. This seat seriously has the most leg room I've ever seen on a plane in my life. I dump my 22 inch suitcase under the seat in front of me, and sit down. My feet do not stretch to touch it. I lean down farther and stretch. My legs still don't reach the sit in front of me. I finally slide down so far that my head is on the bottom of the seat, and I am laying flat, and my feet still don't reach the seat in front of me. I'm short, but this is ridiculous. I have as much room as typically four seats in coach. Awesome.

As I settle in, content that I am going to be able to rest and relax on the long flight, an older gentleman calls to his wife. "Honey, write this number down. 21J. This is the seat we have to get on our next flight. You won't believe the room."

I arrange my free drink coupons, smile, and silently tell myself that I need to work on "trust".

Chapter 2: The Most Expensive Cab Ride of My Life

My flight lands at the ungodly hour of 5:15AM. The plan is that I meet Samantha at her gate. Her flight arrives at 7:15. Then, we'll take the train into Paris. I breeze through customs, then take the train (a big improvement over the old buses) from Terminal 1 to Terminal 2 to meet Samantha. I arrive in Terminal 2. I guess I expected there to be a big screen listing arrivals and gates. Big mistake. Terminal 2 contains gates A - F. These gates are spread very far apart. It seems like miles apart. Which gate could Continental be coming into? B sounds familiar. I hike there, following the signs and dragging my suitcase behind me.

Two hours and what seems like 26 miles of walking later, I'm still trying to find Samantha's gate. The signs are all off, the info desks are closed, and CDG is deserted. I pick up the CDG directory which contains lists of all the fast food places, but no mention of what gates International flights use. I trash it. Finally, I notice an Air France information desk. I stand in line, then explain in my broken French that I am not an Air France traveler, but could they please take pity on me and tell me how to find out what gate Continental airlines uses. The attendant points me in the right direction. Exhausted, I trudge over to the gate, as Samantha exits.

"Sweetie. I'm here." She gives me a big hug, then a discerning look. "Are you OK? Your face is all gray. Which way to the train?"

"About five miles that way," I sulk.

She raises her eyebrows, and gives me a long look. "Let's take a cab."

"Are you sure? It's rush hour. The fare should be 32 euros, but we may hit some traffic so it will be more than that."

"That's OK. Let's go." Samantha whisks out the door with me lagging behind with my suitcase that now feels like a lead weight.

We grab a cab, and begin doing the "chit chat". Blah, blah, blah as the cab zooms into Paris. We exit the highway, and begin driving along the Seine. The sunrise bouncing off the river was mesmerizing. I am really in Paris. I relax in my seat, and smile. We are minutes away from our apartment and the beginning of our fabulous Paris vacation.

Then we stop. And sit. We've hit traffic. No big deal, we're almost there.

Forty-five minutes later, we are still sitting. The radio is blaring the country classic, " Achy Breaky Heart".

"Don't break my heart,...my achy breacky heart". Surreal. Never thought I'd hear this tune in Paris. I notice that the cab driver is banging his hands on the steering wheel, but in frustration, not to the beat of the song. I notice that the meter is advancing at an alarming pace. In Paris, you pay by mileage and time. I sit hypnotized as the meter advances, .10 euros at a time. .10, .20, .30, .40....

At seventy euros, I begin hatching an escape plan. We'll grab our bags, look at the map, and walk to the nearest metro station. We can't be that far from Bastille. The only problem is our bags are in the trunk. And the cab is totally wedged in three lanes of traffic. Between the three lanes of cars are lines of scooters and motorcycles that drive where they please zooming in and out of traffic. I look out the window to my left and see a man on a scooter reading the newspaper. When the scooters aren't moving you know that you are in trouble.

The meter keeps running as we sit still. I tell myself that when it hits 100 euros, we are out of here. Even if I have to ram my door into the scooter next to the car to make my escape.

At eighty euros, we finally break free, Arriving at the apartment with a whopping eighty-nine euro cab fare. I pay and Samantha remarks, "Do you realize that we paid one hundred and fifty dollars for a cab ride? I am never taking a cab in Paris again."

Two weeks later, WT arrives in Paris for work. Takes a cab from CDG to the same area in rush hour. His fare is 32 euros.

Chapter 3: Tea for Two

Samantha and my goal for this trip is to discover amazing cafes, bars and restaurants. We always seem to hang out at the same places. I, especially, like to visit the places in the Marais where I lived over and over again. I realized that on this trip I needed to expand my horizons. Here's two places to check out for tea.

La Fourmi Ailée

If you're in the Latin Quarter, and need a break from the crowds, this tea salon is the place for you. The brilliant blue exterior stands out and beckons you inside.

When I entered La Fourmi AilÈe, I literally gasped. The smell of spices was overwhelming. It reminded me of my grandmother's kitchen when she baked home made apple pie. Delicious!

"Samantha, what is that smell? Is that apple pie?"

"I think its just the tea."

We sat in the large, yellow booths and ordered from the menu that looks like a newspaper under twinkling Christmas lights and a cloud painted ceiling. Bookcases lined the walls and the room was lit with lanterns. Unlike many Paris cafes, the booths were large with breathing room. Students from the nearby Sorbonne were stretched out with papers and books on the tables, studying. This place is too cute and cozy. The tea list is extensive and reasonably priced. The upstairs contains a glass-ceilinged atrium. Perfect for lounging on a sunny day.

We each ordered a cheese plate for 5 euros and tea for 4.5 euros. Well worth it.

Hotel Plaza Athénée

We revisited Avenue Montaigne, designers row, where the couture houses, such as Chanel, Gucci, Dior are located. I hadn't been here for years. I like looking at couture as much as the next girl, but there is no way I am buying it. Not with the dismal dollar sinking daily against the euro. Samantha tries on some Jimmy Choo shoes and decides to pass. We stroll along, licking the windows, and try to walk around the masses of tour groups, craning their necks into stores, while the guide shouts, "move along, move along". Bizarre. A shopping tour with no time to shop.

After navigating around one large group, we are blocked in front of the Hotel Plaza AthÈnÈe. I gasp. I forgot just how stunning the outside of this hotel is with the red roses cascading outside of the elegant window boxes on the outside. I look at Samantha, and our eyes meet. We strut into the hotel like we belong there. The six doorman shooting the breeze jump to attention, holding doors open for us, and inquiring about our day. I love five star hotels.

Since the bar is not open yet, we sit in the Galerie des Gobelins lounge overlooking the courtyard. We luxuriate in the plush arm chairs in surroundings fit for a king...or queen. Suddenly, two of the wait staff zoom over to our table. Oh no. What major faux pas did we do? Instead, they picked up my beat up, black leather tote bag off of the floor and placed it on an elegant, gray leather ottoman. "Wow", I think, "Pretty classy".

Samantha orders a pitcher of tea, which is presented in a complete silver tea service for 9 euros. A large intricately carved silver teapot, and tiny silver accessories that I've never seen before. I order the specialty of the house. A Rose Royale cocktail made of champagne with a touch of fresh squeezed raspberries. Perfection. Pricey (27 euros), but worth it.

A waiter is pushing a silver sterling tray around containing petite fours that you can select from. On the menu, the price is 12 euros for eight. You could have tea here and a snack for around 20 euros. Not bad for a break in such a striking setting. Its like having tea at Versailles.

And, the people watching here is fantastic, If you are male. I noticed about a dozen tall, thin women in the Paris uniform of black boots, black tights, short skirts with legs longer than may entire body. Most of the women were in twos and looked strikingly alike. Definitely models. Also, sisters? On a closer look, one of the set was much older than the other. Mother, daughter runway model convention? Who knows?

Samantha does not meet her goal of drinking the entire pot of tea before we leave. Instead, we wonder over to the bar, but its closed for a private party. Bummer. I always get a kick of looking at the computerized menu that shows pictures of what the drinks look like, and ordering the famous jello shots. One of the few places in the world where you can "eat-a drink-that-looks-like-a-work-of-art".

When we get outside after basking for a few hours in true elegance, I turn to Samantha.

"Wasn't it cool the way they whisked my bag on top of that ottoman? I wonder why they did that."

Samantha smirks, "Honey, did you notice that lady sitting beside us? She was carrying a Hermes Birken. Do you think you are going to put your $10,000 purse on the floor?"

Good point.

For pictures, links and addresses, visit my web site <a href = "http://www.http://www.parisescapes.c...quot;>Paris Escapes Travel Tales </a>

Hi ParisEscapes, please keep going, this is a wonderful read. I'm so going to have tea at La Fourmi Ailée
when we are in Paris in June.

ParisEscapes:

Great style of writing. Did I miss it - what airline is seat 21J on?

Looking forward to more.

Sandy

Great report, can't wait for more! Since we aren't going to France this year I am scouring the board for any trip reports so I can live vicariously. Thanks for the help.

I ran across your trip report while quickly scanning the Europe forum before work and was engrossed before I knew what hit me. I'm saving it to read later. Love your writing style!

Great report PE,

Ooh la la, this is just what I need. A friend and I have just decided to spend a few days in Paris in March, and this is inspirational.

And oh yes, airline and plane type please.

21J is one of my favorite seats, too. I had it booked for an upcoming flight home from Frankfurt...until they changed the aircraft :(

Enjoying your report this morning as I procrastinate with all my work!

I love your writing style, please tell us more. :)

Can't wait to read the rest of it!

This is fabulous - it makes me want to get on a plan right now!

Tea at the Plaza Athenee is one of the best ways to enjoy inexpensive luxury in Paris. The tea itself is excellent (I always order Darjeeling Margaret's Hope), the setting is lush, the service extremely professional, the people watching fun.

OK, I have to ask. On what plane is 21J the seat to ask for?

Thanks

Oh wow, this is so great! I am doing last minute research for my trip in 2 weeks to Munich and Vienna but I can't stay away from Paris. More please! lynda

Fun and entertaining. Keep it coming.

Great trip report! Looking forward to more!

"Eat, Drink, and Be Merry, for Tomorrow our Dollar will be Worth Even Less" - My dear, I love your style!

Very much looking forward to more . . .