Waking up in Nice on a bright late summer morning, we could hear the pedestrians ambling around on the streets below going about their Saturday morning routine. We had a relatively tight schedule to get to the station for our late-morning train and the most important task on the list was opening birthday presents.
It’s not every day that you get to wake up in a foreign city on your birthday and William can get overwhelmed when it comes to change. We had been carrying his presents around for the whole trip and it was worth it to see the smile on his face as he opened them in our hotel room. He was so excited to get to Paris so we all quickly dressed and ploughed downstairs for breakfast. William had his usual sausages with jam on toast and a glass of milk. Throughout the whole holiday we had been desperate to find a hotel in France that will serve a cold glass of milk but to no avail and sadly today was no different (it just doesn’t seem to be the done thing). Thankfully the array of fresh pastries made up for the milk!
When shopping for wrapping paper, we stocked up on baguettes, cheese and meats along with copious snacks for the 5-hour trip to Paris and soon had everything packed up ready for the off. We headed up the Avenue Jean Médecin to the bustling Nice Ville station. Once more, the agents had pre-booked our assistance so we found the desk and joined the queue. The attendant was getting irate with so many other passengers (mostly British and American) asking for information and he had to explain time and again that they needed the next window so by the time it came to our turn he was about to blurt out the same frustrated spiel but stopped short when he saw my cane. We explained we had assistance booked and he couldn’t have been more helpful, politely asking us to wait to the side until our train was ready for us to board. For the return trip our seats were upstairs in the first class section, unlike in the UK where there is a small first-class section and it is normally quite empty, on this service, there were at least three or four entire coaches and they were all full. This says so much about the cost of travel in the UK verses the continent where long-distance rail travel is embraced as a real alternative to flying and the trains are run as such. Even in standard class, there are attendants constantly coming along the coaches collecting rubbish, checking tickets and there are fully manned buffet cars in each section of the train. It is a breath of fresh air compared to the underfunded UK rail network who seem to be trying to remove any trace of humanity in the way it is operated with self-serve ticket machines and much of the network now operating driver-only trains. As a disabled traveller, there is nothing that causes more anxiety about travelling alone than not knowing whether there will be anybody around in the event of something going wrong.
Anyway, back in Nice we were settled into our comfortable seats and the train soon began to trundle out of the station. Before heading north, we followed the coast westward along the riviera through Canne, past Saint Tropez and Marseille on the shared mainline so were unable to get much speed up but this was fine because we could enjoy the last views of the sparkling Mediterranean. After Marseille the line splits and we joined the dedicated high-speed TGV line non-stop to Paris and the driver could open the taps and soon we were hurtling through southern France at high speed.
Once more, it felt like no time at all when the train started to gently slow as we approached the outskirts of Paris and shortly afterwards we pulled into Gare de Lyon. We thought about finding a bag store and then explore some of the sights on this part of town before heading up to our hotel opposite Gare du Nord but as it was at least a 30 minute walk along the Seine to get to where we wanted to go we thought better of it. Additionally, our assistance was there ready and waiting and had booked onward support for both the Metro and at the far end so it just made sense to go with it.
Much like at home, there is no single assistance team across the whole network so there is this awkward hand-off at the Metro barriers where the mainline team finishes and the inner city team takes over. This always seems strange to me because they are all providing the same service, it’s just that only specific people have the “bat phone” to call ahead. Even so, as it was a quiet Sunday afternoon we literally had an assistant each which was a relief because the Paris Metro is extremely confusing – especially when you can’t see! Unlike in London (and across most of the UK) where there are wide accessible gates for wheelchair users, parents with buggies and people with luggage, the gates to the Metro are narrow. A special key is needed to access the side barriers (which were more like prison gates than accessible entrances) and ironically nobody from the assistance team had one. No matter and we successfully navigated our way to the platform and they helped us all onboard the northbound train and called ahead to Gare du Nord where there was another team of people ready to meet us and guide us out of the station. At the barriers we had to do the same dance to get through with all our luggage and, once more, the kids were becoming overwhelmed so it was a great relief to discover the hotel was less than 2 minutes’ walk from the station exit.
Now, no birthday is complete without a cake and the Byway concierge excelled herself by sourcing a beautiful deep chocolate cake with vanilla buttercream filling and a dark chocolate ganache which was delivered to the hotel reception earlier that day. The hotel that had been booked for us was a quirky boutique place called 25Hours. The decoration reminded us of the Mal Maison chain with comfortable, well decorated rooms but all had a hint of early 20th century art deco design.
Bags dropped off, happy birthday sung and cake eaten, we had less than 24 hours to explore Paris but first – Birthday tea and what else would an 11 year-old want to eat in the home of fine dining? You guessed it – McDonald’s!
It wasn’t quite the same as at home – especially because, yet again, the milk was warm – but at least Dad could have a beer. After a celebration dinner of chicken nuggets and chips we found ourselves a cab and headed off for a whistlestop tour of the city. With the help of Apple Translator, our driver made sure to point out the sights as we headed south towards the Eiffel Tower where we hopped out and joined the early evening crowds taking advantage of the late August sun as they wondered through the Parc du Champ de Mars. The temperature was around 10 degrees cooler than it was 250 miles to the south and the humidity was much more bearable so we could enjoy our last night of our amazing holiday basking in the Parisian atmosphere under the Eiffel Tower at dusk.
Kira wanted to see Notre Dame cathedral so we flagged down another cab for the short trip to sit under the stars admiring the exquisite frontage of the dual towers, enormous circular window and, of course, the gargoyles. It was late by the time we got back to the hotel and so we settled the kids into their room and collapsed into ours and sleep.
The last time Kath and I had visited Paris was our first wedding anniversary, 16 years hence and we both fondly recall visiting the museums and sights but the one that sticks in our minds over everything else was Sacre Coeur Basilica. That trip was especially poignant as, not only were we celebrating 1 year of marriage, it also marked the end of a period of ill-health for Kath where she had been struggling with her mobility so, to be able to walk up the steps to the church unaided was truly emotional. We couldn’t go inside as the Sunday service was underway but we managed to find the exact spot where we took our first anniversary selfie and recreated it before heading back to the station for our early afternoon Eurostar back home.
Having the assistance in Paris was a godsend as we breezed through security and immigration to board the train before the crowds and we were once more all settled as the train pulled out, easing up to just under 300 kilometres per hour for the two hour journey back to London. As we sat there reflecting on our memories of this truly unique holiday I couldn’t help but note how relaxed we all were, even with so much travel and it is a credit to the team who created our itinerary to ensure the whole experience is one we will remember fondly.
The trip felt like three holidays in one – the adventure of the outbound journey culminating in waking up seeing the Corsican coastline from our cabin window. This was followed by relaxing as we explored the island and taking time out chilling by the pool. The return trip was the cherry on the cake as we slowly made our way back home and the stops in two beautiful, but very different French cities.
Any travel when you have additional needs is always daunting and this one even more so because of the sheer number of connections but knowing our assistance had been arranged and having 24 hour WhatsApp support should we get in any trouble, was a huge relief.
Will we stop flying for this? Probably not as there are so many parts of the world I want to visit whilst my eyes still work that a plane trip is inevitable but we all agree that a future flight-free trek across Europe is on the cards very soon.
If you liked this account of our personalised flight-free trip and fancy taking a look for yourself then why not check out Byway.travel and see where they can take you.
Blind Man with a Backpack 