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Pleasing muddle of old and new

Swathed in 2,000 years of history, Lyon is an old city, yet happily it's far from being a museum piece.

An excellent excursion on first arriving in Lyon, , is to climb the steps from the Vieux Lyon quarter (or take the funicular railway, but it's more satisfying to walk) up the hillside to the Fourviere Basilica.
There is a fine view over the city from the top: church spires, office blocks, vast domes, riverboats, squares and Renaissance buildings jostle comfortably together. Lyon is a pleasing muddle of old and new, not a place of stark contrasts.
The city lies in the and two major rivers, the Rhone and the Saone, join up just outside it. Lyon's commercial centre is built on the narrow peninsula between the rivers, then sprawls outwards in all directions.
A walking tour involves navigating numerous picturesque bridges - but coping with the commuter traffic cramming the river banks can be a less-than-appealing experience.
However the rivers offer plenty of attractions. Along the Saone there is an old book market every day, and craft and food markets on Sunday mornings. Boat rides for tourists are available in the warmer months.
And at night, predictably, all the major riverside buildings are floodlit. Opposite Vieux Lyon, light also ripples onto the water from an intriguing, lengthy stone structure built into the Saone's riverbank.
It takes a while to register that this is an underground car park - tucked neatly away and almost invisible by day, yet an unexpectedly charming sight after dark.
Vieux Lyon, which lies between the bottom of the Fourviere hillside and the left bank of the Saone is the city's compulsory tourist stop.
It's the Renaissance quarter, filled with museums, shops, bars, restaurants and mysterious little passageways called traboules.
The traboules, entered through what look like private front doors (but which are open to the public - check your map for their numbered locations) are early rat-runs, used originally by silk and other tradesmen.
These narrow, somewhat dank alleyways will twist, turn, then abruptly open out into quaint courtyards, with Renaissance staircases lining the sides, and a water well in the corner.
The traboules, lacking amenities such as modern plumbing, fell into disrepair and disuse in the 20th century. But Lyon's city council bought and restored them, and began renting out their old apartments to craftsmen and women.
Many shops in the cobbled streets of Vieux Lyon sell the produce of such local craftspeople, and artists. But the quarter is home to many contemporary businesses too. Peek through some ancient-looking archway and you are as likely as not to be confronted by a gleaming window, bearing a design consultancy logo, and behind it sharply-dressed workers tapping at colourful computers. ... more

How Paris stole my heart

From the Mail on Sunday

There are places I will always remember - like Australia's wildly beautiful 'top end', glamorous Sydney, exciting New York - and, of course, unsurpassable Venice. I've seen Niagara Falls frozen, dolphins swooping around a boat off Turkey, the painted monasteries of northern Romania and the mirrored interiors of Rajasthan.
But asked to choose 'my' place - the one with a very special resonance in my life - my imagination simply makes a short hop across the English Channel, jumps through northern France and skips down the Champs Elysees.
Why? Because Paris was my first ever taste of that magical realm called 'abroad'. And her beauty captured my heart forever. I reached the age of 17 and still had not left this island. Nowadays the young travel as a matter of course, whether backpacking in exotic places or a boozy, sunburnt week in Majorca. But in the mid-Sixties it wasn't that easy.
So when my schoolfriend Helen and I decided to go for two weeks on a special package to Paris, this was a very bold enterprise. After all, we were a couple of teenagers from small and boring Wiltshire towns, and to us the height of excitement was a Bath jazz club or a CND march. No wonder our friends were envious.
I can't remember how the trip was arranged. All that matters is that we took a turbo-prop plane, and clutched each other with some anxiety as it rumbled into the air. Then we were taken by coach to the Cite Universitaire, in a suburb to the south of the city, where the accommodation was student-basic but cheap. That was the deal. And Paris was at our feet.
Indeed, we used our feet a lot, since funds were so low. We walked everywhere; staring, mesmerised, into smart shop windows and desperately trying to work out the exchange rate to see if we could afford 'real Parisian' shoes. We existed on baguettes munched as we sat beside the Seine on days that were perpetually sunny - in memory, at least. This was partly to do with saving money, partly because we were frightened of speaking schoolgirl French in restaurants.
Oh, but we had fun! We 'met' (a good euphemism for 'picked up') a couple of German students, then some Austrians - and I confess the first time I was ever drunk was in Paris. Yet why not? Surely nobody young ever went there to be 'good'? ... more

Better make it a small one

The day started badly for Parisian cafe owner Andre Chabalier.
After going to bed the previous night about 3am, he'd woken mid-morning to an ominous registered letter announcing that his cafe rent was to be tripled.
'Tripled,' he cried. 'Tell Britain about that: then they'll stop thinking we're rolling in it.'
Andre's cafe - Le Colibri - is tucked away in a corner of Place de la Madeleine, just along from Fauchon, the Fortnum & Mason of Paris.
'Twelve thousand francs a square metre. I need first aid!' said Andre, 54. 'I'll be contesting, of course.'
In other words, cafe ownership in Paris is not all literary discussion and ripping off tourists.
The Colibri had opened that morning while Andre slept.
By 6.45am, the shutters were up and Christelle was serving the first coffees.
The premises wouldn't close until after two the following morning, when the last night-folk had left.
In the intervening 19¼ hours, the cafe needed to generate almost £2,500 to stay afloat, keeping 11 staff, plus Andre and wife Denise, in earnings.
Given that most of the 400 customers were dashing in for a 70p coffee, it was not a battle won in advance. ... more

The Gaul's favourite day out

From the Mail on Sunday

My family was keen on a trip to Parc Asterix - the 100 per cent French theme park where all self-respecting Parisians take their children in the school holidays.
I had niggling doubts. Wasn't Asterix a bit dated? This comic character was hurtling out of fashion when I was a child.
Not surprisingly, therefore, Parc Asterix has never attracted more than a trickle of English visitors.
But it's all very different in France. Parc Asterix, 19 miles north of Paris, is a national institution and the French flock there, proud that it is an all-Gaul affair.
British theme parks tend mostly to be geared towards teenagers.
Parc Asterix is different. While it has all the obligatory stomach-churning rides, there are lots of attractions for toddlers and their older siblings.
There are merry-go-rounds, little child-friendly boat rides, slides, climbing frames and an up-in-the-trees monorail.
All were popular with our two girls. Obelix's giant bed kept them occupied for ages, and they loved the distorting mirrors.
Heloise, who is three, enjoyed the giant slide made of rollers. Madeleine, five, liked the swimming pool covered with thick plastic tarpaulin. Jump up and down and it wobbled and wibbled, sending everyone into a jelly-style collapse.
The relevance to Asterix is not always apparent. Although his figure is everywhere, and there are plenty of wonky Roman buildings dotted around the park, you sometimes forget that the place is dedicated to the comic character.
In the afternoon there was the dolphin spectacular - an exhilarating performance of dancing, leaping, acrobatic dolphins, set in a giant-sized pool built around a Greek-style amphitheatre.
My only criticism of Parc Asterix was the food - as dreary as at any theme park in Britain.
Travel facts Parc Asterix (00 33 344 62 34 04, ) is open every day in July and August and most weekends in September. ... more

A tour around Chanel's Paris? I should Coco

When hotels tell us that they want to add a little extra to our holiday, one suspects that their real intention is to add something substantial to our bill (wouldn't it be nice if hotel beds were as well padded as their final invoices?).
But these are straitened times for upmarket hotels - especially those in Paris that normally depend on the lavish patronage of affluent Americans.
To compensate for the absent Yanks, hotels in the French capital have had to come up with new ways to attract business. It's an ill wind that has blown us a bonus: hotel prices are being trimmed and special treats are being arranged.
The illustrious Hotel de Crillon, situated in arguably the best location in Paris on Place de la Concorde, has devised some of the most alluring treats for guests.
General manager Philippe Krenzer says that the hotel has decided to use its upmarket connections to open doors for its clients. 'We can let our guests really enjoy some of the hidden pleasures of the city - we have some wonderful surprises.'
For our surprise we are invited to be in the Crillon's grand marbled reception hall at 2pm. Waiting for us is Carla, one of the hotel's team of 'angels'.
'This is a very special treat,' she said, almost bouncing with excitement. 'We are going to visit Coco Chanel's private apartment - it is not open to the public, very few people have the chance to enter it.'
The apartment, it seems, was the nerve centre of the fashion designer's retail business. Coco Chanel took over the six-storey property at 31 Rue du Cambon in 1920 and remained there for 50 years until her death in 1971 at the age of 87.
In those 50 years, Gabrielle 'Coco' Chanel, who had been abandoned as a girl by her father in a small town orphanage, single-handedly transformed 20th Century fashion.
From the trademark Chanel suits and the simple black dress to her invention of the shoulder bag and, of course, Chanel No 5 perfume - this remarkable woman always led the way. ... more