OK, I’m going to sew it all up now. I’m back at home anyway so in the tradition of school trip reporting this one will be pretty much “we went to Paris, had some food, walked about a bit, and went home”
We had an extra morning on the beach, thanks to the train booking cock-up. Much the same as the last though I think I spent more time in the sea – also enjoyable because we moved a little up the beach to the spot underneath where people were doing that parachute-ride-behind-a-speedboat thing. So every now and then there’d be a woop and the uncertainty about whether someone was about to fall on top of you from a very great height. I also swam out a bit further, there seems to be a steep shelf just away from the coast there – never saw the tide out – and so while there are lots of people around where you can put your feet on the floor easier, it’s more secluded just a little way out.
We walked up and Ewan had a KFC for lunch. This was the point at which I tweeted about being told off for not having my trousers on. They didn’t chuck us out, by the way, he just wanted to check that I did have some trousers and asked me to put them on.
So then to the train station and by now Ewan was getting fed up. We had half an hour to wait at Nice, then two and a half hours on a stiflingly hot and full train to Marseille and then another hour to wait for the TGV. He said “Dad, I want to go home tomorrow, I’m fed up with this” Foolishly I tried to persuade him otherwise briefly, but soon realised the counter-productivity there and said “Well, we don’t know what the situation is with our Eurostar tickets. If you really want to go back, the best we can do is go to Gare du Nord first thing in the morning and see if we can get a refund and a new ticket for you” That’s all he needed. By the time we got to Paris he was relaxed about it all again.
The TGV really is fast – 3 hours from Marseille to Paris which is about 500 miles and the first class cars are nice and comfy (although ours came with a free screaming baby)
I’m bored with Paris to be honest, it’s become a bit meh for me all round. Going there’s not much more exciting than going to Brighton – I get there and it’s beautiful yes, but I think I’ve done all the frothy touristy things there are to do so yeah, meh.
And Paris and the parisiens do tend to say “Non!” a lot. And the public signage is appalling – you go somewhere where you know there’s a metro station and it’s impossible to find the entrance.
It served it’s purpose though – on Monday morning, I could have stayed for another week, by the end of Tuesday I was ready to come home.
And so, on Wednesday morning, we did.
And after 10 hour journeys through the Tyrol, the Eurostar felt like a commuter dash.