One of the more bizarre yet entirely genuine afflictions suffered by some unfortunate tourists is known as Paris Syndrome – the psychological turmoil that results from the discovery that the French capital is, in fact, not a paradise of dreaming spires and aching sophistication straight out of a romance novel, but a vast, crowded city with a traffic problem, no concept of customer service and residents who don’t give a second thought to urinating in the street.
And yet I love Paris. I even love Parisians, some of whom are, as the stereotypes would have you believe, gloriously rude, or, at the very least, impressively aloof. It was in Paris that, upon being told we were staying at the hotel for our honeymoon, the manager merely replied “mmm”, then pointed to the lift: “Your room is up. Also, there is a package for you,” indicating to a box left on the floor with a mere twitch of his finger, as though it contained something most undesirable with which he did not wish to be associated – it turned out to be a bottle of champagne from an aunt in England. It was a Parisian who told me, after what I considered to be a conversation in flawless French, that she could tell I had a Quebecois accent. Interested, I asked what exactly constituted a Quebecois accent. She pursed her lips and looked very matter-of-fact: “It means you speak…er, how you say… Ah! Like a peasant!”
Paris is one of the easiest places to get to from London, and there is something incredible, no matter how many times you do it, about hopping on a train at St Pancras and stepping off just two hours later in Gare du Nord. We first went on our honeymoon – probably not the most relaxing honeymoon destination, as we were on a determined mission to see absolutely everything we possibly could, which I will tell you now is impossible unless you’re a millionaire with a year or so to spare. It’s prohibitively expensive, especially since the Brexit vote, and unlike London the museums are most certainly not free. But here are a few tips:
- If you plan on visiting a lot of the attractions it’s worth buying a Paris Pass, which will allow you to skip the line. Of course, there won’t be any indication as to how you can do this when you arrive at your chosen museum. At the Louvre, we gave up and joined the main queue, until a gentleman on a bicycle rode alongside us and disdainfully indicated we should follow him, nodding his head towards a nondescript side entrance muttering “ici”.
- Visit the Musee D’Orsay. It really is beautiful, before you even get to the art that’s inside it.
- Speak French. If you speak English, it’s likely you will be spoken to only in French. If you speak French, you will be replied to in superciliously flawless English: “You try to speak my language? Pah. I speak yours perfectly. And now I will demonstrate your pathetic inadequacies by doing so at length.”
- A dinner cruise on the Seine is an extravagance, but one worth doing just once in your life.
- Versailles is a hellish Darwinian nightmare of stampeding, camera-brandishing tour groups jostling for survival. It makes Glastonbury Festival look quiet. Buy tickets in advance and go on a week day, during the school term, early in the morning.
- Hotels often charge an eye-watering amount for an underwhelming breakfast. This is Paris – you’ll be able to find a café within a five minute walk of any hotel selling croissants, coffee and an array of breads that will remind you just how poor Britain is when it comes to this most basic of foodstuffs.
- Walk. Don’t go on a walking tour, download your own or buy a book, and explore the under-explored. We stumbled across a Le Corbusier House (devoid of tourists) and the wonderful Musee Marmottan, a more sedate place to see Monet’s paintings than the crowded L’Orangerie.
It’s fine to have expectations of Paris – it’s beautiful, jumbled, disdainful, self-confident, diverse and full of wonderful things to do and eat – it might end up failing to meet some of your expectations, but it will far exceed others in ways you never imagined.