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Thirty Minutes in Paris (after watching Les Mis)

Tuesday 22 January 2013
Gare du Nord

Last week, I sat in a cinema in Putney, watching Les Miserables. I'd been dying to watch the movie, ever since Anne Hathaway hosted Saturday Night Live, and sang a parody of One Day More. Also, of course, since I grew eyes and laid them on Hugh Jackman.

At one point during the movie, perhaps even during One Day More, I realised that in a few short hours, I would be in Paris myself.

Instead of flying to the Alpine resort of Avoriaz last Thursday, we took the leisurely route. The Eurostar took us to Paris, where we transferred onto a fast train to Bellegarde, before hopping on a bus for the last leg of the journey into the mountains.

It sounds pretty simple when you put it like that. And, actually, it was. It wasn't the fastest option, by far, but by gum it was pleasurable.

What I was looking forward to the most was the few hours we had in Paris, to hop from Gare du Nord over to Gare de Lyon. The journey only takes half an hour, either on the Metro, or by taxi. We hopped in a cab, and I sat back to drink in the city.

Throughout the whole journey I quietly hummed 'Do You Hear The People Sing?" and rued the fact I didn't have a big red flag to wave as I marched, particularly when our path took us past the Bastille. Oh, the urge I had to roll down the windows and sing at the top of my lungs.


Originally, I'd had some half baked hopes of running into a pharmacie (Paris rules the world in terms of skincare) or to a little pavement cafe for a quick coffee. Unfortunately, there wasn't quite enough time. By the time we got to Gare de Lyon, there wasn't really enough to spare for a jaunt of any kind.

What there was time for was a leisurely cafe au lait in the terminal. Though I'm still CURSING the fact that I didn't know there was a Sephora there until we walked past it to board the train. So if you're ever in the same position, don't make the same mistake I did, my child. It still haunts me.

The only problem I have now, of course, is that I'm filled with a burning desire to go back to Paris immediately. It's been years since I was last there properly, and funnily enough, half an hour just didn't quite cut it.

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