A trip to Paris for a multi-day, multifunction activity. Journey to the hotel uneventful.
For a change, we were to stay in a hotel in the city instead of La Defense, the business district. We were booked into a hotel called the Concorde near Gare St Lazare. We were thinking of holding a large conference at the hotel later in the year, so had agreed to have a meeting there to try it out.
Walked into reception to find a beautifully ornate painted ceiling and wonderfully ancient décor. A key to my room, and I found that there too the décor was still wonderfully ancient but far less entrancing- indeed I doubt the room had seen any modernisation in the preceding 40 years. With all the electronics one carries around nowadays just one free power point isn’t enough. Nearly 200 Euros a night to stay in an antique.

Called my colleague Catherine who I had agreed to meet for dinner. As we left the hotel I was accosted on the steps by a deranged guy who picked on me to yell a string of obscenities, mainly around the fact I was staying at such an upmarket hotel. Not sure why my personally staying there was such a moral outrage, but there you go. Catherine’s French wasn’t up to following the full tirade, but she obviously understood the emotion. “You really are a dangerous guy to travel with, they just pick on you”, she said.
Anyway, my new friend decided to go and terrorise someone else, and we crossed the street to a likely looking bistro.

As well as its haute cuisine, France has so many places that serve unpretentious, excellent food. This was a fine example, and Catherine and I put the world to rights over some great food and wine.
Woke late next day- the clock on my mobile was reset for some reason so the alarm didn’t wake me.
Belated breakfast with Catherine (who called me when I didn’t show), and we tried to hail a cab to go to the office. It was obviously tunnel vision day for the cab drivers, and after several minutes of being studiously ignored by passing cabs we walked around to the station itself and joined the queue in the taxi rank.
We finally got to the front of the line and were picked up by a Chinese looking cab driver. I asked him to take us to the office, giving the address as Esplanade Charles de Gaulle in La Defense.
I don’t know what the odds are, but possibly we had found the worst taxi driver in Paris (a significant achievement as standards of awfulness are high).
Our friend had not heard of La Defense (“La Defong?) . He had not heard of Charles de Gaulle (not easy in France). He did not really speak French. I was sufficiently out of the line of fire but Catherine told me he had rank halitosis (bad breath) as well. Yes, I am just born lucky.
Anyway after a bumpy start and several near misses with angry drivers (he wasn’t great on driving in a straight line), he stopped at some lights and drew out a map book, together with a pair of glasses.
Now I really was scared.
Find yourself a couple of regular sized clear beer bottles and using a glass cutter, saw off the bottoms insert them in a wire frame, et voila! You have the same pair of spectacles.
Call me a wimp but the idea of being driven by a driver with such eyesight I thought was terrifying .
After a while I recognised the route and started directing him as best I could, as we didn’t really have a language in common. We finally made it alive, (if with elevated blood pressure), to the office.
A great day with Anja, Catherine and Benoit, followed by a cab back to the hotel. We met for a drink, and went for what Benoit described as a “one block” walk to the restaurant. This proved to be a 20 minute “one block” walk. I was in the middle of telling Vanessa about my Istanbul adventure when I had a call from my colleague Jacky. As I hit the “accept” button I was in mid stream and Jacky asked me what I was doing with “two prostitutes”. I told Jacky that was no way to describe my esteemed colleagues.
We arrived at the restaurant, to meet with Caroline (the Belgian chocolate advocate- see “The Belgo -Swiss chocolate War). Caroline had been looking after a vacancy in South Africa, and was now inducting the new South African HR manager, Sandy. We had a terrific laugh, and you could see Sandy wondering whether she had joined an asylum (I’m glad to say she is still with us and just as insane).
A day of meeting in the hotel itself, trying out the facilities. The check out service was as antiquated as the wiring and decoration, but it was the effortless disregard for customer satisfaction that really annoyed me. The conference rooms were grim, the food poor.
After lunch we rebelled, and walked to the Madeleine, to a specialist food shop called Fauchon. We stocked up on expensive goodies, and took a group photo.
Back to the hotel to conclude the meeting, and then a taxi (This time with a competent and French-speaking driver, without obvious vision defects or personal hygiene issues), to another hotel Concorde, (Lafayette) next door to the Palais de Congres.
This was a hugely impersonal, modern conveyor belt money -making machine, which made the previous Concorde look like a haven of friendliness. I went up to my room, which had great views over the Bois de Boulogne (only the trees- nothing racier), and made an abortive attempt to join a conference call to the US.
After some email I went out to see what there was in the immediate area. I identified a likely restaurant for later, and called in at a deserted bar. The lady who was the proprietaire, was as ever trying to place my French accent and asked me if I was Quebecois (I wondered whether this is a Parisian insult).
Off to the restaurant, a Chinese which prided itself on speed of delivery over customer enjoyment. The lady at the table next to me had one of the really annoying spoilt tiny dogs that look like overgrown rats and which make a lot of noise. I’m not in favour of animal cruelty but was beginning to think an exception might be made.
A voicemail told me that Eileen, a colleague who was helping with the next day, had arrived, and together with Colin, a team member, we retired to the (allegedly) English pub across the way.
Eileen proved to be a great character and we agreed our plan for the next day.
Early start and off to the room for our conference. I quickly learned that we had not received all the materials. Great.
We were half an hour into the day when a booming voice interrupted our meeting. I wasn’t sure who was making the noise.
I was not “on stage” at that point, and went next door to argue with the amplified monster. It turned out to be a sound engineer. Looking at the notice, the French Institute of Hepatologists (hope I remembered this right) had an awards luncheon, and this guy explained that he had 36 radio microphones to test.
I guess I irritated my new acquaintance, because for the next hour and a half we were drowned out by an imbecilic “un… deux…trois…a… bay… say” (1 2 3 a b c), as he tested all 36. A series of complaints to the hotel conference manager simply produced a series of Gallic shrugs. Try running a conference with a moron yelling at you through a microphone (or 36).
Dinner with Eileen in the evening, who proved to be a great character. Joining the merchant navy at 17, she had prospered as a lone female sailing all over the world , and in her 30s become an IT guru. That’s feisty.
We impressed the waitress by ordering largely offal dishes (which the French do so superbly). I love the French word “rognons”, meaning kidneys, it’s very descriptive, and my rognons were excellent (to coin a phrase).
Next day meetings at “La Defong” and finally to the airport by train.
I picked up a voicemail from trusty Paul, telling me that many flights to London were being cancelled due to high winds devastating the country. He suggested Eurostar, who were full (and ended up cancelling several trains too). Arrived at the airport so see that all flights to the UK were cancelled. After 4 nights away I didn’t need this.
I joined the lengthy queue for the BA desk. It seemed to me that salvation had arrived, when a lady passed down the line handing out letters saying “save time- don’t stand in line-call our reservations office”. I called the number to hear a recorded message “The office closes at 5.30pm- please call tomorrow”. Another BA publicity coup.
My wife sent me a text telling me that a fence and a large brick wall in our garden had been blown over by the wind. Great- I’m stranded in Paris and my house is blowing down.
Anyway I could see this line would take hours before I got to the desk, so I called our travel agents, who twenty minutes later called me back to confirm that I had a room in a hotel in Roissy. I felt sorry for the people who would now have to stay in line, but I was free and headed for the shuttle bus stand to get to the hotel. The navette (shuttle) arrived within minutes and I was duly checked in and installed in my room before 7pm.
Roissy is a small village next to the airport (it’s often called Roissy Charles de Gaulle). I’ve stayed there before and it’s quite a nice friendly place with only a few restaurants , and a massive collection of airport hotels ranging from the Marriotts etc, to the French chain Premiere Classe, (where you can stay for less that $30 US a night, as long as you don’t mind wafer thin partitions and hearing every sound in the rooms either side). I walked from my hotel into the village. The wind was already very high and it was not a pleasant night to be out.
I went into the first bar I came to (didn’t want to stay outside any longer than necessary) and saw there were just a handful of men at the bar. Clearly few people were venturing out in the wild weather.
I ordered a beer, and thereafter was ignored by the other people, given that they a) didn’t talk to strangers, b) were absorbed in two critical activities -namely playing some obscure game with dice which meant one of them losing a lot of money, and more importantly working overtime to maintain the appropriate level of cigarette smoke in the bar.
The latter activity was a real challenge, since every time the bar door opened a significant volume of fresh air blew in, but these guys were professional and stuck manfully to the task of maintaining a fog inside the bar, with considerable success. That’s dedication- they produced enough smog for Los Angeles.
After a while I felt suitably warmed up to risk looking for a restaurant, and walked down the high street in the high wind. I passed a Chinese restaurant where I had eaten in my previous stay. I remembered the service had been very arrogant and was determined to go elsewhere. This wasn’t the night for leisurely choices, so I plumped for another down to earth French place just down the street. Again the place was crowded, and I had to squeeze my way into the one available table. I can’t remember why, but I had some problems with my visa cards and would have to use one where I wasn’t sure I could remember the PIN code. I had just enough Euros left to pay anyway but this would leave me with no cash left.
Anyway, as with my first night dining with Catherine, this was another plain but delicious meal, and it was a wonderful feeling after the stress, and the walk in the storm, to unwind with good food and wine.
The only downside was the appalling English group that sat next to me, who refused to speak a word of French and insisted on having their conversation at the loudest volume. Sometimes I am ashamed of my fellow compatriots, and I worked very hard on seeming French so that I would not be associated with them.
Anyway, a long time later, my Visa card having worked, a warm, nourished, and wined Gary made the walk through the wild weather back to the hotel. The glow of well-being was sufficient to keep me warm despite the wild weather. After such a disastrous start it had been a really enjoyable evening.
I had to start early- in my joy on receiving the message that I had a hotel and flight, I didn’t check on the time of the flight, so caught the first shuttle before 7am. The navette was full of the service staff who keep the airport and its hotels running. Not much fun being out on this dark, freezing morning, and the mood was gloomy.
Arrive to find my flight is at 9.40am. It’s grey and gloomy but it seems the winds have blown themselves out. We take off on time and on landing at Heathrow I have to take the train to the London offices. It won’t be until evening that I’ll get home to assess the damage to the house. Another week of Parisian glamour.