In 2018, we took a challenging and exciting journey from London to Morocco. We thought we had every detail of travel, hotels, sights to see – everything planned and ready to go! We even booked dinner on a Seine river cruise and lunch at a restaurant on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower! We flew to London and took a taxi to our booked hotel near the train station, from where we would take a train through the Chunnel to Paris. We’d both been to London before, and the idea of going to Paris this way was too exciting to resist. How fun is that? We figured out an itinerary of stops, and I spent many hours searching for moderately priced hotels at each place. Of course, Larry thought sleeping on a park bench, like he did when he first visited London at the age of eighteen, would be fine. Big NO on that idea. I used a well-known online booking service and thought everything was in good shape. When the taxi dropped us off at our hotel, our first thought was that we had the wrong address. No hotel we’d ever seen looked quite like that. (Except for one in Argentina – another depressing story.) We checked in and were given a key to our room. The way the front desk clerk greeted us, one would think we were checking into a prison. That should have been our first clue. As usual, Larry asked for extra pillows. Zilch. Is there a restaurant nearby? Shrug. The only thing it had was an elevator, and with Larry’s bad knee, we were grateful. Ever the optimists, we were sure the room couldn’t be all bad. We had no idea what we were in for.

We opened the door and gasped. Our room was smaller than the one above, and not this nice. This is the same hotel, but after our review, they must have spruced it up a bit. Or maybe they’re still using the same pictures that suckered us in the first place. It was a small space with no table. It might have had a chair. It was claustrophobic. A 3/4 twin-sized bed was shoved against the wall, with no windows, and no closet, not even a hook or two. That bed made me think of the movie Barefoot In The Park, where the newlyweds’ bedroom was too small for a full bed. That is where the similarity ended. I examined the bed, and the sheets seemed reasonably clean. But really, who knows? The walls weren’t this clean, but it did have a TV on the wall. The adjoining bathroom was larger than the bedroom. One wall was devoted to the “walk-in” shower with no curtain. I think there were four thin towels, but we needed two to mop up. There was nothing to prevent water from flowing into the rest of the bathroom, which was probably the plan since another drain was in the middle of the room. If we had not been completely exhausted after our long flight from Phoenix, we would have left. In hindsight, the park bench might have been a better option. I raged at the online site and looked at my printed reservation. Of course, the pictures were nothing like the real thing. Larry called to see if there was a better room. Of course, they were “booked up”. Ha! We left to find a place to eat and, upon our return, asked the clerk to call a taxi for us the following morning at a certain time. He nodded and appeared to make a note. Helpful. We slept right to left that night, hoping nothing creepy would awaken us.

We survived the night and were downstairs early, eager to escape our cell with the electrocution-friendly swamp. Larry asked if our taxi had been ordered. Yes, of course. It will be here soon. We waited. We went out to the sidewalk. And waited. Larry asked again and got a shrug. We decided to walk because the station was only a few blocks away. Thankfully, an empty taxi came along and we flagged it down. With Larry on a walker and me hauling the luggage, it wouldn’t have been a pleasant stroll. We arrived at St. Pancras International Station. That’s when our stay in London improved dramatically. We walked in, searching for where to go next. We were barely in the door when a customer service agent approached, asking if Larry would like a wheelchair. He scowled, but I convinced him that it would be easier for both of us. The young lady was more than accommodating and offered to take us to a lounge to wait, suggesting that coffee and croissants were available for free. What was even better, Larry detected her French accent, and before you knew it, he heard her life story, and she became our new best friend. We made ourselves comfortable in the lounge, a very nice area, and we were soon served. We were quite early for our train, so the snack was a nice treat. The agent left, saying she would return when it was time for our train and would take us there herself. It was great!

We were soon escorted to our train, and we settled in, ready for the fun experience of traveling under the English Channel and on to Paris. At first, we saw London cityscapes and then the English countryside, the tracks running behind houses and buildings, and I looked over fences into people’s gardens. Then the sounds and the light in the train changed. We were in the Chunnel! I don’t remember how long the journey was, but it was not as long as one might think. We were now viewing the French countryside. Even though it didn’t look a whole lot different than the English countryside, it was a surreal experience for me. This was my first time in France, and I examined every farm, every cottage, every highway, and every vehicle. To me, it was different. I wanted to soak it in as only a first-time visitor can. I was disappointed when we slowed down as we entered Paris, approaching the station. I didn’t want it to end quite yet. After our dreadful hotel experience, this train trip swept away all those ugly images. I wasn’t ready to let go of our lovely train journey. Since we booked our hotel in Paris on the same online site, I was worried about what we would find. However, I was prepared to insist on another hotel if we were similarly disappointed. I don’t require much and certainly don’t require luxury. My grandparents were cotton farmers in the Arizona desert during the Great Depression, and I learned to make the most of what we had, a little or a lot. As long as it’s clean and safe, that’s all we need.

It was a relief to arrive in Paris. We took a cab to our hotel, and it was small, but the room made me think of an opera set, like La Boheme, a garret high above the city. No more flooded bathrooms and a bed to stretch out in. The young man on the front desk was friendly and helpful. What a relief! We walked outside and saw the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur de Montmartre right at the end of our street.

We had lots of plans for our stay in Paris. Managing a walker made it interesting. Check back next time and see what happens! Thanks for reading my post! Please leave a Like and Comment. Visit my website and sign up to receive regular updates. https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/