We went to Paris for a long awaited family break just a week ago. It was supposed to be my birthday present from my husband last December, but too much was happening then. But I am growing steadily more whale-like as time goes by, and so it was time to do some travelling. And so off we went last Thursday, taking the Eurostar to this beautiful city.
Hubby and I have been to Paris several times before in our previous single lives, this was our first together. But no romantic candlelight dinners for us or Before Sunrise-style walks in slo-mo, we were there with our little tornado. No complaints though. At 20-months old, he is now super active and chatty, and we delight in his company. (When he isn’t melting down) We had to confine ourselves to indoor activities on our first two days as the weather was unkind to us, but even then we had fun because the little one was happy to just run in available spaces, and found our hotel room hilarious somehow (‘Hiding Daddy!! Come hiding!’). Who knew a simple Novotel could please a toddler so?
How was travelling to Paris with a little one?
Well there were some revelations. The French were wonderful with the little tornado. Having experienced more un-smiley French or Parisians in previous visits, I was pleasantly surprised that they were always cooing and smiling and talking to our son. Older folks would say hello, one silver haired man even came to our breakfast table to just to talk to him. Many had a similar question – “Is it a boy or girl?”
With so much warmth and kindness for the little one, I was surprised then that the public transport facilities however, was not as friendly. We had a challenging time with our pram using the metro. I had forgotten my French friend’s advice to use our lighter travel buggy instead, and I soon saw why. The question is about buggy width. It was just ridiculous as we had to collapse it each time to fit through gates, and there were just so many gates. There were no dedicated ones for those with accessibility issues. It made me really feel for those with disabilities too – how were they supposed to navigate through all this? The Parisian metro has always been very intuitive – as in, if you are used to the London tube, the metro is not a problem at all to figure out. But for ease of accessibility, London’s underground is still heaps better.
I was nervous about restaurants – many have no baby chairs, but in the end we fared quite all right. The little one took a monster evening nap on the first day (quite unusual), and as I knocked out along with him, hubby took it upon himself to book a nice dinner at 9.30pm. When I woke up, that fact just shocked me a little! Bedtime for tornado is usually 7pm in London. But we went to the restaurant anyway, a quaint little restaurant not too far from our hotel. It was completely packed though, and we were the only ones with a child, no surprises there! I thought we would be so judged for bringing a tiny human to this elegant little restaurant, but we just got one or two curious but cheerful looks, and most just continued their dinner and chats. We got back to the hotel near 11.30pm (gasp), and our son just promptly passed out (phew).
We didn’t get to do the Louvre (hubby has never been there), and Jardin du Luxembourg (for son), but all in all it was a short but sweet little holiday.
Yeah, this is the kind of the blogging you do when you’re a parent. It’s all so fucking logistical and practical and with no oooh la la. Ah well, c’est la vie!