John Linton We got up late on Saturday trying to adapt to jet lag which gets no easier as you get older. Having been forewarned by the previous night's disastrous dinner we were unsurprised that "breakfast" was equally as bad - so confined ourselves to toast and orange juice as even the tea was undrinkable (I think it had been stewing in an urn since at least the day before). As we selected the hotel purely on the basis that it was a 2 minute walk to the Eurostar check in we had no problem that the rest of the attributes were such dismal failures.
It was our first experience of Eurostar and only being able to compare it to the Japanese ultrafast rail systems our view is that getting you from the centre of London to the centre of Paris in 2 hours and a bit is a great service. The train ride itself was smooth to the point that you had no idea of what speed you were going, apparently close to 200 kph, but the seats and carriage surrounds were grubby and very worn. No matter we were precisely on time and our female Algerian taxi driver eventually found her way to our hotel (the taxi had an ineffective air conditioner that didn't deal with the 33C degree heat in any suitable way). The hotel that I had originally selected to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary was as spectacular as its astronomically high daily room charge demanded it would be.
So after we checked in we went for a leisurely stroll up the Champs Elysee to the Arc De Triomphe and then back to Fouquet's before returning to the bar at our hotel for a cooling drink - or two in my case. It was a wonderful 'English Bar' with comfortable chairs and exceptional ambience and bar staff who you just knew would mix drinks from perfect ingredients in perfect ways and serve them perfectly at exceptionally high prices. Annette commented on the very young girl sitting at an adjoining table whose see through dress revealed that she had overly severely economised on expenditure on under wear and I pointed out to her the couple of 'ladies' who were keeping body and soul together eating what looked like half a pound of Malossol caviar which they were washing down with very large martinis. A truly Parisian moment for us louts from Sydney.
We are, courtesy of the efforts of the hotel concierge (Guillaume) who conjured up reservations at the hotel's two Michelin star restaurant on a Saturday night with two hours notice going to belatedly celebrate our anniversary. I have never been to a Michelin starred restaurant before but I have been to Sydney's and Melbourne's most highly regarded restaurants several times over the years. All I can say is, with absolutely no disrespect, is that Australia's best restaurants may as well be "Macdonalds" compared to the surroundings, ambience, food and service we experienced tonight. So an auspicious start to our holiday after lengthy travel to actually get here. Paris remains very different to other cities.
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