Leaving Paris
November 14th 2007 14:13
It’s an easy way out of Paris. Fifteen minutes across town in a taxi, cruising along the along the Boulevards and around the fringes of Montmartre to Gare du Nord.
In the crowded morning streets last glimpses Paris life unfold like frames in an old-fashioned film, freezing as we slow and stop for the lights, speeding up as we accelerate away; an old woman holds a placard “1 Euro, s’il vous plait Je pourrais etre votre Grandmere – 1 Euro please, I could be your grandmother” it pleads, lovers share a lingering kiss, a man in a leather jacket bargains with a painted lady in stilettos, a clochard shaves in a strip of shop-front mirror, while a mannequin in lingerie stares blankly past him from the window. At Gare du Nord a gypsy greets us with outstretched arms. I give her my unspent coins and she blesses my eyes.
We ride the escalator up to Eurostar Departures. The station’s steel-spined glass dome, the marbled walls, pillars and arches evoke another age - of sentimental black and white photos where sad farewells and joyful reunions are silhouetted against the dark outlines of engines, softened by clouds of steam. People come and go – strangers, carrying with them a hint of mystery, a tinge of romance, a touch of adventure.
On the mezzanine, in the Eurostar terminal it’s a different world. It’s an airport world but it’s a better, faster, easier and nicer airport world. In five minutes we’re through check in, immigration and security, in fifteen we’re on the train and sliding out of the station.
Newspapers, laptops and mobile phones unfold. Meetings are planned. Business is discussed. I gaze out the window and watch Paris slip away, building by building. The train speeds up. Grey suburbs rush past. They dwindle into villages, flatten into farms and fields, then rise again into forests. At a terminal suspended in the country, cut off from its town, the train stops, takes a breath and more passengers, then plunges into darkness. We’re in the tunnel, under the sea.
Mercifully soon, we burst back into the light. We’re in England, Ashford International. There’s another pause while the train catches its breath and passengers leave. Then we’re off again, racing through the damp English countryside, past stately homes, farms, stands of autumn trees, villages and muddy estuaries. The suburban back yards of London appear in the window, then factories, high-rises, offices and the familiar glass cone of Waterloo.
In approximately two hours and forty minutes, less time than an airport check in and embarkation, we’ve traveled from Paris to London. Approximately three and a half hours after leaving our Paris hotel we’re at our London destination.
Eurostar is a great way to cross from France to England. It offers three classes ranging from Business Premier, at the "top", with reclining seats, plugs for laptops, fabulous magazines, chair-side meals and drinks and panoramic views - to Standard at the "bottom" which offers a basic seat and none of the above except the panoramic windows (what else matters anyway?) However, the Buffet is excellent for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks and drinks. While Eurostar fares (beginning at 103 Euros) can't really compete with the very low-cost fares offered by so many airlines, there some quite good train hotel packages.
When time is money, Eurostar is definately the way to go. At 9.00 am today, it began its new service, to St Pancras Station London, which will reduce the journey to two hours and fifteen minutes.
Boulevard Montmartre
In the crowded morning streets last glimpses Paris life unfold like frames in an old-fashioned film, freezing as we slow and stop for the lights, speeding up as we accelerate away; an old woman holds a placard “1 Euro, s’il vous plait Je pourrais etre votre Grandmere – 1 Euro please, I could be your grandmother” it pleads, lovers share a lingering kiss, a man in a leather jacket bargains with a painted lady in stilettos, a clochard shaves in a strip of shop-front mirror, while a mannequin in lingerie stares blankly past him from the window. At Gare du Nord a gypsy greets us with outstretched arms. I give her my unspent coins and she blesses my eyes.
We ride the escalator up to Eurostar Departures. The station’s steel-spined glass dome, the marbled walls, pillars and arches evoke another age - of sentimental black and white photos where sad farewells and joyful reunions are silhouetted against the dark outlines of engines, softened by clouds of steam. People come and go – strangers, carrying with them a hint of mystery, a tinge of romance, a touch of adventure.
On the mezzanine, in the Eurostar terminal it’s a different world. It’s an airport world but it’s a better, faster, easier and nicer airport world. In five minutes we’re through check in, immigration and security, in fifteen we’re on the train and sliding out of the station.
Newspapers, laptops and mobile phones unfold. Meetings are planned. Business is discussed. I gaze out the window and watch Paris slip away, building by building. The train speeds up. Grey suburbs rush past. They dwindle into villages, flatten into farms and fields, then rise again into forests. At a terminal suspended in the country, cut off from its town, the train stops, takes a breath and more passengers, then plunges into darkness. We’re in the tunnel, under the sea.
Mercifully soon, we burst back into the light. We’re in England, Ashford International. There’s another pause while the train catches its breath and passengers leave. Then we’re off again, racing through the damp English countryside, past stately homes, farms, stands of autumn trees, villages and muddy estuaries. The suburban back yards of London appear in the window, then factories, high-rises, offices and the familiar glass cone of Waterloo.
Waterloo Station
In approximately two hours and forty minutes, less time than an airport check in and embarkation, we’ve traveled from Paris to London. Approximately three and a half hours after leaving our Paris hotel we’re at our London destination.
Eurostar is a great way to cross from France to England. It offers three classes ranging from Business Premier, at the "top", with reclining seats, plugs for laptops, fabulous magazines, chair-side meals and drinks and panoramic views - to Standard at the "bottom" which offers a basic seat and none of the above except the panoramic windows (what else matters anyway?) However, the Buffet is excellent for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks and drinks. While Eurostar fares (beginning at 103 Euros) can't really compete with the very low-cost fares offered by so many airlines, there some quite good train hotel packages.
When time is money, Eurostar is definately the way to go. At 9.00 am today, it began its new service, to St Pancras Station London, which will reduce the journey to two hours and fifteen minutes.
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