Mr Brightside (Paris - Doha - Sydney)

Yes, dear reader, I'm back home but there are still a couple of days in Paris to review as well as the journey back to Sydney. I should have completed this post last week, but jet lag and life got in the way. Our last few days in Paris coincided with the conclusion of the school holidays. The crowds thinned dramatically. Monday began in sunshine and we decided we would spend the day shopping. 

Monday

We strolled the few minutes down to the Jardin des Plantes. The popularity of the garden area was boosted by school children who were running throughout the area in groups. Apparently being supervised by their PDHPE teacher. It's tough work being a PE teacher, standing in the morning sun, issuing instructions to your students. Run here, run there, scrolling on your mobile, having a discreet cigarette. Any wonder it requires a university degree. Such intense lesson planning.

Pretty. No I don't know it's name. Maybe Andrea.

There was also a group of older people doing Tai Chi. Here the group leader was actually participating in the activity. Unlike the PE teacher. While they didn't draw a crowd, there were a number of people who were so bemused or amused by the activity that they paused to photograph the group as they pretended to be giant kelp plants being moved by the currents.

Further along, a woman strayed from the path onto the grass to photograph a plant. Her movement was meet with a shrill whistle. The garden police were watching. No-one is allowed on the grass. The woman stepped back onto safe ground and bowed in the direction of the grass protector. Fortunately my transgressions over the past few days went undetected. It's been a long time since anyone whistled at me.

Tulips.

Across the Seine we went onto the Rue Rivoli searching for two things: a place to have coffee and Coton Doux, my favourite French shirt store. The coffee proved elusive. The shirt did not. Coton Doux have an excellent range of colourful shirts but the range hasn't altered a lot over the years and some of my previous purchases are still available. The new shirt is basically white with road bikes as the pattern.

Shirt bagged, we went in search of coffee. Not so easy, as it turned out. It was nearing lunch time and the menu offerings had switched from petit déjeuner to déjeuner. We discovered Westfields. I know, right. There was one in Hamburg and now in Paris. Frank Lowy has a lot to answer to for.

Not at Westfields.

Like the man from ironbark, we wandered here, we wandered there and finally found a café that offered coffee and toasted sandwiches. Bonus. However, there was no room at the inn. On we went and eventually found a café that offered coffee and had seats in the sunshine protected from icy the northerly wind.

As we crossed the Seine back to the left bank, the rain was beginning again. As has been the pattern, it wasn't particularly heavy, but it was enough to keep us indoors for the remainder of the day. Luckily I keep a supply of essentials on hand while travelling. You know, wine, cheese and nibbles.

Tuesday

Another day of wandering and soaking up the Paris vibe commenced. Yesterday we began at the Jardin des Plantes, today was Tuileries. It doesn't have as many garden beds but it does have a huge fountain that is surrounded by seats. The northerly was still keeping temperatures down and ensuring that one side of the fountain was almost deserted. No-one wants to get sprayed by the fountain.

Be careful of the wind direction.

We headed out of the garden and towards Opera because our destination was Galeries Lafayette on  Haussmann. One of the most beautiful shopping centres in the world. It also has a viewing terrace that overlooks parts of Paris. While we had shopped here before we had not been to the terrace.

A Crab Apple in Tuileries.

Into the store that is reminiscent of David Jones in Elizabeth Street in Sydney and also NK in Stockholm. The latter because of the central space with the cafés overlooking the ground floor. Lafayette's dome is far more spectacular.

The Pantheon in the foreground.

From one escalator to another until the final ascent is made via stairs and out onto the rooftop terrace. It was surprisingly crowded. Jayne was asked by an American family to take their photo and did an excellent job ensuring her thumb adorned the photo. Take two. We enjoyed the view and sunshine and then exited on the other side where the escalators go all the way to the roof. No stairs. 

L'Opéra.

There were a number of cafés, perched on the edge of the atrium, that were enticing and calling us to stay a while. But this is Paris, a café would not do. Winegate was the place to stop and admire the stained glass. Not with a coffee but with champagne. Perfect. Expensive but perfect. We watched the groups of people who had paid for the privilege of walking onto the glass viewing platform. I entertained the thought briefly, but we would be required to queue and that wasn't happening.

Lafayette is worth a visit for the view alone.

This was our last full day in Paris and I had still not purchased any macarons. On leaving Winegate, we saw a Pierre Hermé counter. Possibly the most expensive macarons in the world, but hey, you only live once. They were delicious. And at $5 AUD each, they needed to be.

The most beautiful store.

We had lunch in a café by the Seine and people watched for a while before crossing the river one more time and walking home. The afternoon was reserved for packing and champagne.

The journey home begins

After many transit days of dragging bags across cobblestones, I decided the final transit would be in comfort and I ordered a taxi to drive us directly to the airport. Our plane was scheduled to depart at 9:05am which meant a 6am arrival at Charles de Gaulle. Dragging our bags down streets of cobblestones at 5am would not have been appreciated by anyone.

Our driver, booked for 5:30am, was 10 minutes early and despite the early hour, the traffic to the airport was surprisingly heavy. Still, we made CDG in good time and passed through the required checkpoint to be one of two guests for breakfast in the Qatar Lounge. 

Heading for the gate rekindled memories of the ill-fated 2012 trip when a wheelchair bound Jayne was wheeled on the roller coaster walkway to the security point. The walkway was functioning today and Jayne was under her own steam. Security caught me on that trip too. Today our carry on set off the alarms. Why? Hand warmers that we had purchased in Australia and didn't use in the Arctic Circle. They passed through Australia and Austria without problem, but not Paris.

That sorted, we eventually made the plane and our Q-suites. The business class seats on the 777 have their own sliding door providing more privacy. Excellent. We sat, champagne-less, on the tarmac for a while as a passenger was assessed and deemed too unwell to fly. Apparently alcohol can not be served on planes in France if they are grounded. We departed a little behind schedule but made the time up in the air and arrived in Doha on time.

Doha airport has just been awarded the gong for being the best airport in the world. Whatever that means. I subscribe to the Paul Kelly theory on this. He might think all cities are the same, I feel the same way about airports. Yes, it is beautiful but you could be anywhere in the world, shopping for designer brand products.

Looking down from the lounge.

And it is large. The train to transport you from one arm of the airport to another is inside the terminal. There is duplication of shopping opportunities and lounges. Being the home of Qatar airlines meant the lounge was next level. There were of course several lounges, as we found out when we couldn't get into the first one we came to.

The lounge we were redirected to was about a 15 minute walk away. It was worth it. The business lounge had two sides. One was for families and those who wanted peace and quiet opted for the other side. There were more staff than customers in the quiet side. Should you wish to use the toilet, you did so knowing that the attendant waited outside the door as you went about your business. Well, it was the business lounge. As you vacated the facility, the attendant went inside to clean up after you. It's important to stay tidy.

The 'quiet' business lounge.

The last leg was on an A380, my favourite plane. The flight was uneventful, we both got a little sleep and landed on time in Sydney.

The Transit curse

As you would be aware, dear reader, most of our transit days on this trip had some measure of drama. This one was no different. Jayne's e-ticket at the customs barrier was rejected three times and she had to go through the manual line.

We stood at the baggage carousel for quite some time with no result. Checking the app on my phone to see where the air tags were was not comforting. Our bags were, according to the app, 12,369 km away. Hmm, that's Doha. There was, of course, no-one to ask. Bags kept arriving, our tags kept reporting our bags were in Doha. I said to Jayne I would go looking for someone to report our luggage missing when another traveller said his bags were yet to arrive and he was also in business class.

Finally our bags, resplendent with their orange priority tags slid down the chute. The line at customs had significantly diminished while we waited so that was a positive. Or so we thought.

We reached the front of the 'nothing to declare' line and reported that Jayne's e-ticket was kept by the officer on the other side of the customs barrier. "No worries," came the reply. "Just join that line over there." He pointed to the much longer queue for passengers with something to declare.

Once again we reach the front of the line. "What do you have to declare?" Nothing the e-ticket was kept blah, blah. Same comment, "No worries, just join that line over there." We were heading for the x-ray and had the same conversation for the third time. Excellent. 

Bags x-rayed, we finally made it through to the taxi rank. No queue. Into the taxi and home.

As I finalise this post, we have been home for a week. Jet lag is still "killing me and taking control." A line from Mr Brightside by The Killers. It won't stop me travelling, but it hurts for a couple of weeks.

Until next time.