Paris & Amsterdam Trip Day 1: Newhaven to Paris

Last month, courtesy of a generous tax refund, my husband and I took a short holiday to Paris and Amsterdam. We've both needed a holiday for a little while, and as we don't currently have a car we set our sights on Europe for this year's adventure seeing as public transport over there seems to be altogether cheaper and better connected.

So because it was a fab little adventure, I wanted to share it on my blog over a selection of posts starting, of course, at the beginning:

We woke bright and early to get the train down to Newhaven where we hopped on the ferry to Dieppe. The sky was grey and gloomy and it was drizzling miserably. Just the send off one needs for a trip abroad, although we left under the knowledge that this kind of weather front would most likely be dominating northern France and Holland as well. That's what you get for holidaying in October.

Feeling bleurgh

Anyway despite the fact it was somewhat breezy the sea was only slightly choppy. I enjoy travelling by ferry, and I've sailed in very stormy conditions before and never once been ill so I knew I would be fine. Except this time I wasn't. I felt incredibly nauseous for the entire four hour journey. I tried everything from standing out on deck in the chilly wind and rain to sucking on sweets to wearing those stupid travel bands - nothing worked.

Although I wasn't actually sick at any point it was a great relief to finally arrive in Dieppe where the rain was coming down in buckets. Thankfully my sea sickness faded as we battled through the hostile weather under the shelter of my new umbrella that the wind kept trying to steal, to the town centre in search of a cafe to hide in, as we still had a couple of hours before the next leg of our journey.

Despite the foul weather we were still able to admire Dieppe's picturesque historical buildings. The town was lovely and quiet and we were able to let the remaining elements of tension disappear because we were finally on holiday, and come rain or shine we were going to enjoy it!

We were innocently wandering across the road at a pedestrian crossing when a musical yet alarming sound screeched into our ears. Both unsure of French crossings we thought that the traffic lights were emitting some strange alert but then we turned to see a fire engine bombing up the road towards us. We quickly got to the other side and watched, bemused, as this vaguely farcical yet serious sight tunefully zoomed past us. Because I work for the emergency services these bizarre sirens became a fascination of mine for the remainder of our trip, as we heard them frequently in Paris. My favourite comedian, Bill Bailey, describes it so well. We were in fits re-watching this when we returned home:

Anyway, after locating the station we found a nearby cafe and dived in for a coffee.* I nervously tried out my GCSE level French and realised that I remembered more than I thought, and that I could speak it correctly enough to be understood, huzzah!

Shortly after this we went back to the station to catch our train to Rouen, a rumbling monster complete with 80s style curtains at the window, and a slightly odd conductor who, whilst very jolly, would make loud train noises at random intervals throughout the journey. We sat back to admire the beautiful Normandy countryside. Stretches of fields, and numerous large farmhouses with shuttered windows flashed before us, making me nostalgic for my school French Exchange trips. I thought of Marie, who I had exchanged with, and the mildly terrifying but fascinating introduction to French life her family had given me. It was actually on one of these exchanges, when I was 13, that I first went on a trip to Paris, and I remember that I was distinctly unimpressed with this alleged "most romantic city in the world." I had found it grey and dull. And it was this that had made me want to return as an adult, convinced that I would appreciate it so much more through mature eyes and without being forced to visit the places my school teachers deemed the most interesting (translate: boring). This desire for me, combined with my husband's new interest in French cookery, helped us select Paris as one of our destinations for this holiday.

By the time we boarded our train from Rouen to Paris it was getting dark so there was far less to see but it wasn't too long before the bright lights of the capital city were before us and we alighted at St Lazare.

By this point we were both tired and hungry, and although we were glad to have finally arrived in Paris, we were a little overwhelmed by how busy the pavements and roads were. In essence it was just like London, but cars were driving on the other side of the road and we didn't know exactly where we were in relation to our hotel.

Clinging to each other, we got our bearings, and made our way through the busy streets. Even though all the shops were now closed there were still people milling about everywhere. It was with great relief that we found our hotel, a small place tucked away down a side street. My husband, who had been building up to this moment having never spoken French before, burst through the doors and bellowed, "J'ai une reservation!" causing the man seated behind the desk to leap up in surprise.

I nudged him for forgetting to say, "Bonsoir" first, but the man didn't seem to mind, and handed us our key card with a polite smile.

Our room was small but clean, comfy, and just right for what we needed. We quickly offloaded our luggage, freshened up, and then made our way back onto the busy streets in search of a restaurant.

We walked along a street of eateries, determined to find somewhere French, not somewhere British or American or Italian - there were a considerable number of recognisable chains, although as we were in a capital city I guess we shouldn't really have been surprised.

We eventually found a reasonable looking place that was busy enough to show it wasn't terrible yet quiet enough to hear ourselves think. We were able to practise more of our broken French, and let our brains stop whirring so we could plan our next day's excursions. After our delicious meals - duck confit for me, and steak tartare for him - we went for a wander along the streets, feeling much calmer once again and ready to face the rest of our trip.

We slept well that night ready for a big day of exploring ahead of us.

*I know I frequently blabber on about not being able to drink coffee. As a general rule this is true, but to be perfectly frank, the rest of Europe just has no idea how to make good tea, so when in Rome...