Scotchée à Paname

Hello there, Bagpiper! I'm not sure you looked more surprised than anyone who happened to be visiting the Sacré Coeur that day. I was not. I knew I'd find you up there. In fact, you guys drove me to Paris last week-end. I travelled with the Thalys very early in the morning in order to arrive on time for the défilé franco-écossais.

That train is so fast that one doesn't even have the time to take a proper nap. You just find yourself in Paris Nord before you know it. Then all you have to do is take the metropolitain: ligne 4 direction Porte de Clignancourt, change for ligne 2 direction Porte Dauphine at Barbès Rochechouart and get off at Anvers.

But that's not what I did... I first went to Rome to drop my suitcase at the hotel reception and dashed back to Anvers. Oh come on, you can't possibly get lost! Get a Paris Visite metro/train/bus pass, a map, and off you go wherever you fancy.

Along with many other people gathered on the esplanade, I followed the défilé, marching at pace to the sound of their drums. I know I could have followed those pipers all around the world but we had to stop at place des Abbesses, after passing by several streets through Montmartre. You should love this particular spot, just have a look...

Day 1 to 3, you would have found me there. The Sacred Hill is so enchanting. Admire Paris standing at your feet. Let the bagpipers add a bit more colour and breathe the special atmosphere in the cobbled streets. Time to climb down now... But I returned several times over there and couldn't help entering the magnificent Basilica every time I did, at night also, just to have the pleasure to sit silently in this haven of peace, admiring the vitraux, either in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary or under the impressive huge mosaic picturing her beloved Son.

When I stumbled across one of my Brussels choir companion in a metro station, I once again realised our world is actually very small. Inevitably, I was sermoned for not telling her I would be visiting her native city that week-end. Truth is I didn't even know I would be going to Paris when I last met her and would never imagine to find her there, paying a visit to her parents. C was kind enough to spend some time with me, guiding me through this huge city.

We eventually sat down for a drink in Saint-Germain des Prés, which gave us the opportunity to watch the second half time of the rugby match. A French girl supporting her national team is absolutely normal, but don't try to find a reasonable explanation to the fact that I turned the Scottish flag I had received earlier into a napkin on our table. It must be because I love Scotland very much, that's all. As we were rehearsing last night, she couldn't help telling all the choir members about the French Victory and how sadly I was forced to fold the flag after the Scottish defeat...

Right after the match, we had to split for a while. I had to do the proper check in at my hotel before meeting her at Chartier for dinner. There I arrived with a look of victory all over me, as I managed to find my way alone, using three different metro lines. That restaurant is a wonderful place indeed, a must. Now I know where to eat when I'll be visiting again, and I sure know about a couple of restaurants to avoid at all cost.

It was raining heavily on Sunday and it seems all tourists took shelter in a famous museum. Scots were still all around the City of Lights... even in the Louvre, as you can see. This Palace is full of treasures but is also a treasure in itself. I finally got acquainted to Venus and Mona Lisa, and after having walked for hours through any piece of art you can imagine, I headed towards Notre Dame and visited the Quartier Latin. I turned in rather early that evening, listening to the hail knocking on my window.

I wandered through Père Lachaise cemetery on Monday morning, paying my respects to Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Molière, La Fontaine, Gilbert Bécaud and Edith Piaf, to name but a few. You can easily guess where I spent my last hours in Paris... Le Sacré Coeur just stole my heart.

After having lived in Paris only three days, Brussels looks like a village to me and I already miss Montmartre (let alone the bagpipers), the crowded boulevards and the Parisian atmosphere, so it won't be long until I board the Thalys again.

Next time, YOU might come along.

It is written on this poster: j'attends quelqu'un...

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le deagh dhùrachd

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