Lunch in Paris and the frustrations of Eurostar delays

On our last day - a Sunday - in Paris this January, Big Sis and I decided to have a long leisurely lunch close to the hotel before our scheduled departure on Eurostar back to London later that same afternoon. The trains had been cancelled the day before due to a lorry fire in the freight tunnel, but all seemed to be in order when we sat down to enjoy our aperitif or a glass of champagne (we were in Paris after all).

But then I had the fateful text: "Your train has been cancelled".

What to do? I tried to telephone the number on the text, but was told the queue was 1/2 hour long. "There's also plenty you can do online," said the friendly Eurostar lady on the automated message, so I decided to enjoy our lunch and see what I could do on my laptop later.

I'm glad I did, because when a couple of hours later I telephoned again, it took over 4 hours to get through to change our booking (and no, you couldn't do it online). By that stage we'd rebooked our lovely room at the Crowne Plaza, and were resigned to another night in Paris. (What a hardship!)

But before we knew about the frustrations of Eurostar delays, we concentrated on (what we thought was going to be) our last lunch in Paris.

As soon as we'd stepped into the Astier we liked the look of the place. Traditionally French, the service was friendly and extremely courteous. There were delicious-looking meals being enjoyed all around us, and looking at the menu, we had great difficulty in deciding on what to have.

Eventually Big Sis chose the marinated herring to start, while I had the pumpkin soup, which was topped with cabbage and bacon bits. Both were  absolutely delicious, but better was to come.

We both had St Jacques Creme Laitue, or scallops in lettuce cream sauce, something we'd spied being enjoyed by a neighbouring table. The scallops were cooked to perfection, and the creme sauce was light and very, very tasty.

By pudding we had to say no to cheese, something which I'm now regretting back in London, where cheese is routinely chilled to a much too low a temperature, and hence often tasteless. (I know these are probably European rules, so differently applied in different countries.)

But when our friendly waiter showed us the pudding menu, and I spied the words "Baba au Rhum", I convinced Big Sis that we should share one. And my, was I glad we did. The dough in the baba was light and fluffy, the rum poured over it deliciously boozy, but still sweet enough, and the Chantilly cream as light as newly fallen snow.

We'd arrived quite late for our lunch (at two pm), and as we were finishing our Parisian feast, the tables around us were emptying. In spite of this, at no point were we made to feel that we were imposing on the staff, who by now must have been there beyond their working hours. When I asked what time they closed, the answer was a shrug "Whenever it suits you".

A Gallic shrug can sometimes be so comforting.

Restaurant Astier
44, rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud
75011 Paris

Paris after Charlie Hebdo

Big Sis and I have a tradition; we meet up in early January each year, and have a holiday a deux somewhere a little warmer than London. This year we chose Paris (hence the French above), since neither of us had been there for years.

Then the unthinkable happened, and there was the most horrendous terror attack on the satirical magazine offices of Charlie Hebdo, just days before our planned holiday. I have to admit that we both had some reservations about going to Paris so soon after the attack, but being Finns (and me a Londoner!), we decided to deploy our natural Finnish characteristic, sisu, and packed our bags and stepped onto the Eurostar train at Pancras International station last Thursday.

Little did we know that our hotel, which Travel Team at Guild Travel had booked for us some time ago, was very near where the atrocity took place, and right at Place de la Republique where the demonstration in support of freedom of speech had taken place only few days previously.

Plus, we were told,  the area of Le Marais was reportedly swarming with armed police...

But I think we saw only a handful of army troops or police officers over the four days we stayed in Paris. Parisians were a little more subdued and less jolie than usual, but otherwise the city was its beautiful and stylish self.

Our hotel, Crowne Plaza, was excellently placed at a walking distance of good cafes, bistros and shops. We had a large bedroom on the top floor with two double beds; the staff were extremely friendly and helpful; plus there was a wholly adequate breakfast, which sustained us long into the afternoon. (I find it's difficult to find a good breakfast in chain hotels these days).

A room with a view.

Our room.

Bathroom.

The staircase was spectacular.

There was a beautiful internal courtyard
at the hotel, but alas it was too cold
to have our breakfast there.

But being where we were, signs of the terror attack were evident everywhere. On our first night in town we walked past Le Monument de la Republique, which was adorned with banners, names and drawings of the tragically killed employees of Charlie Hebdo with slogans of 'Je Suis Charlie'. Suddenly we felt soberingly close to the terrible events of the previous week.

On a whole we had a lovely time in Paris, there was an incredible sale at La Fayette where I very nearly bought a dozen designer bags, but restrained myself and bought just a lovely Marc by Marc Jacobs purse, which had 40% off the retail price. (I'm so proud of myself!)

We had great food, great wine, a few too many glasses of champagne, and a lot of laughs, in spite of the sad times this beautiful city is going through.

Palermo in January

There should be a song called, 'It never rains in Palermo.'

For the past four days, the weather reports have predicted rain, but it's just never materialised. Instead Sorellona (Italian for Big Sis - I think this nickname is going to stick) and I have been able to wander around the city under mostly sunny skies. The temperatures have been balmy 17 C or so; in other words much more pleasant than the current UK weather. We've hardly needed our coats, but since all the Palermatini seem to dress as if the city was about to be hit by snow storms, we too have wrapped ourselves in jumpers and scarves.

January in Palermo is quite a special time. I've not been to any tourist resort this much out of season, and while some things are not so good (many cafes and restaurants are closed or operate on a much reduced capacity), mostly people are very patient with our faltering Italian (Sorellona studied the language briefly a few years ago, and I use my French and English to get by). In general everyone in Palermo has been incredibly friendly, and not in the overly, insincere kind of way, but just plain easy-going and helpful. I'm sure in the markets we've been ripped off, but at least they've done it with a friendly smile!

The square is now a car park while in the summer it's taken
over by Antica Focacceria S. Francisco.

Yesterday we did some of the main tourist attractions, the Catedrale, Fontana Pretoria, Chiesa del Gesu, Chiesa Della Martorana and the lovely and the peaceful church and gardens of San Giovanni deli Eremiti (St John of the Hermits).

Fontana Pretoria 

Chiesa del Gesu

The Catedrale

Church of St John of the Hermits

We walked to our temporary home in La Kalsa via the Ballaro market, but like with the nearby Vucceria food market, we were somewhat underwhelmed by its offerings. Perhaps this is another casualty of our timing; neither market has been particularly busy, which makes me think that many of the stall-holders are not bothering to turn up in winter. We had a much more satisfying food shop in an unassuming street off Via Belmonte, Via Principedi Scordia, where we found a small shop selling fresh fruit & veg, lovely meats and cheeses, as well as a tiny bakery.

With only two days left of our holiday, and Sorellona nursing a nasty cold as I write, we may have done all the sight-seeing we are going to do in Palermo this time. But I am certain I will be back, but perhaps next time we will hire a car and explore a little more of Sicily as a whole. I'd really like to go and see the ruins of Donnafugata, the fictional palace in the famous Sicilian novel, The Leopard. (And the 1968 film by Luchino Visconti). Sadly the palazzo in Santa Margherita di Belice, from where Giuseppi Tomasi di Lampedusa drew his inspiration for the setting of the novel, was destroyed in an earthquake in 1968. Still, I'd still like to experience the landscape and the scenery of journey the Salinas make at the beginning of the book to their summer residence. But just being able to see the city where Lampedusa wrote the novel has been a huge treat.

Besides, it's always nice to leave something for the next time?  

Palazzo Cattolica Palermo, Sicily

My big sister and I usually spend a week together in January in London while the Englishman goes away skiing. But this year, Big Sis suggested we'd also go away. 'To somewhere where there's a chance of sunshine. Not that I don't like London,' she continued, 'but we've seen it now, haven't we?'  It was at the tip of my tongue to say something about being tired of London meaning that you're tired of life, but I held back. Just as well, because when she suggested Palermo, I jumped at the chance. As a lover of opera and good food, and a great fan of The Leopard by Giuseppe di Lampedusa, there could hardly be a better place for us to spend a week eating , drinking and catching up. And laughing.

When we found this apartment in a palazzo in the old part of town, we could not believe our luck.



Our temporary home is in an area called La Kalsa, very near the the centre of town, station and the harbour. It's a very old, but trendy, area, originally Palermo's Arabian district, with small bars, cafes and restaurants littered around the narrow streets.

This is the partial view of Cattedrale di Palermo
from the balcony of Palazzo Cattolica.

The traditional ventilation system in the Palazzo works. 

There are some lovely narrow streets.

Our entrance at the top floor is charming.

We have so far had a tour around Palermo's famous opera house, Teatro Massimo, which is Europe's largest stage, according to the guide. Sadly the season hasn't yet started, but when we found out that my favourite opera, Tosca by Giacomo Puccini is on later in the year, it took all my willpower not to buy a tickets on the spot. (More about the Opera House later).

Last night we ate at a fabulous Palestinian restaurant called Al Quds and indulged our sweet tooth at a coffee house with gelato and pastries to die for at Antico Caffe Spinnato.

We've only been here for three days and I'm already falling in love with this quirky Sicilian Capital. Being here in January, with hardly any tourists around, feels as if we are getting to know Palermo at its best and most honest. Perhaps buying an opera ticket for next November is the best way to guarantee we will indeed be back?

The Englishman in paperback - nearly!

Yes, you read it correctly, The Englishman is very, very nearly out in paperback.

When I received the proof copy in the post last Thursday, I felt quite emotional. This is the first time one of my novels is in proper print, ink on paper, and the feeling of holding my own written words in my hands (or arms, I was hugging the book at this point!) was overwhelming.

When, later, I spoke with Big Sis over Skype about how proud I felt about the book, but also silly for being so emotional (I was again pressing the novel to my chest), she very wisely said, 'Of course you feel like that! You're realising your dreams!'

I've been thinking about her comment since, whilst dealing with some last minute issues with the printed copy. Those words have given me strength and a belief that I am indeed doing the right thing.

Once the small hitches have been ironed out, I'll be able to give you a final publishing date. Hold the front page!

For those of you who can't wait for the paperback copy, The Englishman is already available on Kindle. Just click on picture below.