Europe 1 — MX5 0 / Part 1
How to end a road trip
So this one ends, spoiler alert, with a mashed red MX5. But to understand the story we have to start at the beginning.
We start a week after I left my role as Social Media manager at Brink.UK, a class mountain bike shop in Bedfordshire. I got all the stuff that I’d need together. Climbing gear, sun cream, too many shoes and the knowledge that I was going to suffer in the European summer heat in a small car with no air-con (more on that later).
Anyway, I set off on Tuesday the 14th from the sunny midlands for Paris. After doing battle with the stale air of the Euro-Tunnel for half an hour, I was in Calais. The first time me or my car had driven in France, so we were in it together. It was a 3-hour jaunt from Calais to Le Pecq where I was staying with some family. After a quick shower and a bit of dinner, I went out to have a quick look around Le Pecq and Saint-Germain en Laye.
The next morning, I made my way into Saint-Germain for a bit of brekky and a coffee. Naturally, as a British person, I can only speak English and have always been terrible at learning other languages (blame it on dyslexia). So after I found a Cafe I liked the look of, I went in to order, then remembered my non-existent knowledge of the French language other than “Bonjour” and “Merci”. But the People serving started speaking in perfect English to me as I had managed to find the only British-run Cafe in the area. I ordered and sat myself down outside in the morning sun looking out towards the ‘Chateau de Saint-Germain en Laye’. Soon, I had an amazing flat white put down in front of me along with an avocado toast with the best sourdough I’ve ever had, so, if you’re ever in Saint-Germain, Felicity’s Cafe is a must!
With a full stomach and a caffeinated brain, I got the train into Paris itself. A twenty-five-minute journey and I’m in the city centre. Straight away, the heat was doing me in, I decided the first course of action was a cold drink. I promptly forgot I had just had a coffee, and went to Motor Coffee. The perfect place to get an Espresso Tonic and indulge in some people-watching. One thing that I would later realise is that all of the major tourist attractions in Paris are online booking only, and as someone generally disorganised and who goes with the flow, this meant I didn’t actually go into any tourist spots in Paris. I however wasn’t fussed, when travelling solo one of my favourite things is to simply wander, as see the city from a slow speed and see the things normally missed.
The other thing about travelling solo is the ability to change plans at the flip of a coin and not have anyone to piss off. So, when I got a message from my cousin Soraya that she was in town after not seeing her for almost a decade, I went to meet her after her work to go and catch up. I made my way to Sentier where she works at a Pharmaceutical start-up and picked up some fresh wine on the way. We then got on the Metro and rumbled a few stops down to go to her flat in the leafy Paris suburbs. The last time I had seen Soraya I had been a pre-teen with a shite Bieber-inspired haircut, so to now be a 22-year-old and be on equal terms, it was like not a day had passed since the last time we had seen each other. The conversation flowed, along with my tears as they would when cutting 10 onions . The heavy affront on my eyes was due to it being Soraya’s 30th that coming weekend and a Lasagne was being created to feed her guests in Provence the next evening. As with my earlier statement about the ability to create new plans on the spot when travelling solo, this became true when Soraya said I should come along to her 30th. I was planning on travelling through the area on Saturday anyway from Lyon to Livorno, so it made perfect sense to go!
After much chat, onions and wine, I headed back to Saint-Germain for the night. As a country boy figuring out what is and isn’t closed on a Wednesday night in Paris is a little stressful, but with some fast walking/running, I made it to the train in time. After a hot and packed-with-people journey back, I walked back through the empty streets enjoying the paradox of the noise around me, with no one there to make it.
The next day I got my stuff together for a morning climbing at “Climbing District” in the 17th District. As a rock climber, cities can be a surprising oasis for the activity, with indoor bouldering gyms being common in most cities. It’s also a great way to meet like-minded people outside of the usual channels. Walking through the up-and-coming hipster neighbourhood in my dirtbag climbing clothes, I felt right at home with trendy Parisians, but once inside the gym, I was among like-minded brethren. Having had a little time away from the rock (plastic climbing holds) meant I was a little rusty, but with some gentle coercion ( complete disregard for warming up my tendons) I was good to go! Climbing District is a fantastic new school climbing gym, with the facilities to match. From interactive climbing walls that have different game modes to a fully stocked bar with a selection of craft beers on tap, this was a place I could get used to!
But after a few hours of mingling with local boulders and falling off routes, I left the area and made my back into the centre for some more site seeing. After getting back late the night before I made the same mistake as the previous day and completely forgot to book any of the touristy sights. So instead I headed to the place I knew I’d be able to do some obligatory “gawking at structures” for free. So under the early afternoon heat, I worked through the crowds and stood and stared at a big power pylon. I was promptly informed that was, in fact, France’s national treasure, the Eiffel Tower. But I was none the wiser, I was simply a bit miffed my BeReal didn’t go off at that point, would have been a great photo…
After a few more hours of mooching, I made my back to Saint-German for dinner with my great Aunt and Uncle with plenty of red wine to chase the food down. Laying in bed on my final night in Paris, I reflected on my brief time in the city. I had come in with such low exceptions of the French capital, the complete opposite of “Paris Syndrome” (Paris syndrome is a sense of extreme disappointment exhibited by some individuals when visiting Paris, who feel that the city was not what they had expected). What I was met with was a city that was un-apologetically French, and when viewing the city through that lens, it was charming. Like many cities, the touristy areas paint a false narrative of the identity of a place, and during my time in the area, by missing out on those attractions, I saw a much truer picture of Paris. A place where people are welcoming, kind and proud of their city.
The next morning after a lie-in and a quick coffee at Felicity’s cafe, I got my bags together and back into my Mazda, whose name was Millie, by the way. The previous owners one condition of the sale of the car to me was that i poromise to keep the name, which i certainly did. Said my goodbyes to Sue and Marc and thanked them for their hospitality. And without fanfare, set out for Lyon.
