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Abondance and the Fantasticable of Châtel, Savoie, French Alps



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She's Flying! She’s Flying!

Zagan the motorhome’s been doing too much stuff! Arghhhh! Right, OK, good, I can do this. I can sum this up without boring the hell out of everyone. Hmmmm…

OK, we’re currently sat by a telecabin in the Alpine village of Abondance in France (N46.27627, E6.72100). The ski lift is out of use for the summer, and we’ve been asked to park here as the village’s official motorhome aire is being used for Bastille (National) Day celebrations this weekend. As a general rule, ski stations across Europe make great places to head for in summer, as they often have free parking, no-one’s fussed by motorhome’s being parked there, they’re in beautiful locations, and they’re quite often free. Many of ’em have low cost or free motorhome parking in winter too for that matter!

Motorhome parking by the Essert telecabin station in AbondanceMotorhome parking by the Essert telecabin station in Abondance

The last blog post came to you from Switzlerland, where we had a couple of fantastic nights overlooking the Valais valley and the pure white 4000m peaks beyond. The sensation of cooking tea or knocking up a brew, looking out of the door to my left and getting hit with the view of the monstrous Dent Blanche (the same mountain’s on the medal from the 2018 Zermatt Half Marathon), pumped my blood up and urged me out for another half marathon run up towards the Col de Sanetsch and back. I’ve got a taste for the running now, next up I’m aiming for a full marathon back in the UK then, finger’s crossed, an ultra-distance run or two after that. Watch this space.

Ju knocked out a hill run too - respect! It was warm out there too.Ju knocked out a hill run too – respect! It was warm out there. The distant 4357m Dent Blanche (White Tooth)The distant 4357m Dent Blanche (White Tooth)

Our aim the morning we left was to head back to France. Why so short a séjour in Suisse? Dunno. The low-cost ACSI rate on the campsites were all ending, so the cost for sites was roughly doubling, but there are a fair few places in Switzerland where they tolerate free camping, or even provide official aires. Our rubbish was starting to stack up though, and 60 litre bin bags were coming in at roughly £3 each in Lidl, as they have a special ‘bin bag tax’ on them. You can’t just chuck your black bin bag in the bins, oh no!

A quick aside: Switzerland’s divided up into cantons, a bit like a small version of the US. The whole country pays a ‘federal’ level of income tax, but you also pay additional income tax which varies according to where you live, which canton your house sits in. So someone in an adjacent village on the same wage as you could easily be paying less income tax than you. If they’re married and you’re single, they’ll pay even less. Also, if you own your own home, you have to add a fictitious ‘rental income’ to your wage, and pay tax on that too. Not that all of this is necessarily a bad thing, as the state clearly looks after its citizens, it’s just interesting to me (more about Swiss taxation here).

Where was I? Oh yeah, bin bags. So, until recently the Valais canton didn’t have special taxed bin bags, which weirdly introduced a sort of ‘rubbish tourism’ as surrounding cantons required the heavily taxed bags. Folks would drive into Valais, chuck their bags into the bins there, and head home, presumably laughing manically. Ha! Valais caught up in 2018 though and voted to introduce the bags, which explains why the campsite we stayed at with Phil and Jules were so shirty about handing ’em out.

Anyway, we fancied heading back into France mostly as it’s just SOOOO EASSSYYY to motorhome around here. The Alps are just as beautiful, the food as delicious, the folks as easy-going and the sun as yellow and hot as Switzerland, so here we rolled, via Lidl, where we discovered mixed nuts, wine, rösti (shredded potatoes) and Swiss cheese were cheaper than France, and stocked up accordingly. Fancying a new route, we headed past the Col du Grand Bernard (which Phil and Jules had used to get into Italy) and the Col de la Forclaz, instead heading west over the smaller Pas de Morgins into the Portes du Soleil ski area and down past Châtel to Abondance for the night (N46.28017, E6.71507).

Heading towards the Zorro-slash of the Col de la Forclaz above MartignyIn Switzerland, heading towards the Zorro-slash of the Col de la Forclaz above Martigny – Lake Geneva is off down the valley to the right of this photo A tight bridge on the Pas de Morgins, otherwise it was an easy pass to crossA tight bridge on the Pas de Morgins, otherwise it was an easy pass to cross

Abondance has an official motorhome aire, a free one at that, although the massive €3.50 charge for the service point irked a few of the commenters on our aires database (really? bring your motorhomes to Britain my friends, we’ll immediately fleece you rotten as soon as your wheels stop turning, and you’ll be loving paying €3.50 for a couple of night’s free parking and 100 litres of water back here in France, LOVING IT!!!). Ahem.

The free aire in Abondance, complete with sat TV reception through a gap in the mountainsThe free aire in Abondance, complete with sat TV reception through a gap in the mountains

Anyway, installed in the aire the satellite dish went straight up (don’t judge us, we could give the TV up at any time if we wanted to – honest), and we checked to make sure we could watch the England-Croatia game. TV says yes, so we waited out the afternoon walking around the village, watching sporadic rock falls on a nearby slope, watching a fellow motorhomer walk his kitten on a lead in the aire, craning our necks at a local bloke’s drone which he was using to measure the car park (and he had a chicken statue stuck to the front of his van), and generally being nervous. We all know what happened next, but the England lads did a fantastic job getting to the semi finals; we bow down before their nerve and skill. Onwards and upwards.

Talking of nerve, during the long wait, Ju had spotted there’s a zip wire back up the valley at a place called Pré la Joux, near Châtel – wonderfully named Fantasticable! As part of dealing with Charlie dying, we’ve been working on what we want to do next in life, seeking out the positives, and one of Ju’s goal list items has long been the Zip World zip line in North Wales. Eyeballing photos of the Fantasticable we agreed: this looks even better, and headed the 30 mins back up the valley. It’s high (very high) above the hamlet of Plaine Dranse, and is in fact two zip lines which take you back and forth above the valley, over the trees, chair lifts, mountains bikers and lakes far below. €36 apiece includes two chair lifts to the start of the first wire, and gives you a decent sick-buzz as you look up and see tiny horizontal figures flying through the air far above. Whhoooooaaaa…..

On the way up to Fantasticable. I was feeling a tad ill at this point.On the way up to Fantasticable. I was feeling a tad ill at this point. VTT (mountain bikers) at Pre la Joux, in full-face helmets and with full body armourVTT (mountain bikers) at Pre la Joux, in full-face helmets and with full body armour

If you fancy, and if you and your partners weights fall within certain boundaries, you can buddy up and do the zip wires together. We were right on the weight limit (150Kg for both of us), but decided to do it separately anyway. Up at the top we found zero queue, stared down the valley for a minute, then were ushered in to get weighed and harnessed, helmeted and (for me with me specs) goggled up. Ju got ’em to relax the rules and let her hold our GoPro Hero4, so she grabbed the video below, saving us the additional (eye-watering) €13 each for the official photo.

Ju: calm, happy, ready or action! Me: none of the aboveJu: calm, happy, ready for Fantasticable action! Me: none of the above… The view down the valley the Fantasticable crossesThe view down the valley the Fantasticable crosses at between 80 and 100 kph

Ju was first up, as she was too slow in stepping backwards when we were called. Onto the ‘launch stage’ thing, they took the big metal pulley she’d been given and placed it on the wire, then hooked her on, got her to lay down suspended below the wire and push back with her feet onto a ‘stand’ which pulled the harness tight. They then called the station below on a radio, gave them the weight and name of the person ‘flying’, and attached a sort of triangular flag above her, which we guessed was to manage our speed. After asking if she was ready, a safety line was pulled and with what I’d describe as a ‘happy scream’, she was off, flying!

Ready to fly on the Fantasticable!Ready to fly on the Fantasticable! She's Flying! She’s Flying!

I watched as she turned into a dot, and heard the line buzzing until finally there was a sort of thudding noise, and I was up. At this point the nerves disappeared and I can honestly say the whole experience from that point on was pure serenity. The flight didn’t feel too fast, and I just seemed to float along above the valley, looking down with a sort of detachment at the tiny stuff below, as the air pushed at my face. It really felt like flying, quite an experience! There was some adrenaline when I came into ‘land’ though, as everything suddenly seemed very fast! A kind of ‘aircraft carrier’ mechanism grabs you at the last second and slows you down with a HUMMPPHHH. Cool.

Coming in to land!Coming in to land!

Ju was already being hooked up to the second cable above me, and I dragged the big metal pulley thing up there for a quick exchange (she was very happy!) before she was off again on the longer flight across the valley. I followed a few minutes later and after escaping the clutches of the photo-booth-flogger-bloke we giggled our way down the road to the chair lift where we retrieved Ju’s bag from a locker and headed back to the van, watching the gnarly mountain bikers below negotiating the steep burns and jumps of downhill tracks.

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Back at base, I had a wee run up to the Col de Bassachaux, about 8 or 9 miles, while Ju cut the above video together and uploaded it on the resorts free WiFi. A bite to eat and we headed off back down the valley again, popping into Intermarche to find its car park washing machines were permanently closed before tracking down a Libre Service launderette in La Chapelle d’Abondance. While the washing washed itself, I made a few forays trying to find the towns service point, and failing. A second trip to the tourist information office sorted out where it was, and confirmed we could stay the night.

La Chapelle d'AbondanceLa Chapelle d’Abondance

Washing done we ignored the tourist office and satnav directions along an elbows-in roads through the chalets and shops, and using a map we’d picked up realised we could drive to the roundabout on the edge of the village and come around the back by the ski lifts – the long way so satnav would never choose it. Finally finding other motorhomes we parked up, filled our water bottles from a free fountain, and had a lovely quiet night (N46.292358, E6.783001).

Free motorhome parking at La Chapelle d'Abondance. The service point's over the bridge behind me, should you happen to be stood in the same place!Free motorhome parking at La Chapelle d’Abondance. The service point’s over the bridge behind me, should you happen to be stood in the same place!

This morning we headed back into Abondance, parked up here and walked a few miles up to the trout-filled Lac des Lagnes and back. As a reward we nipped into Le Mont Jorat riverside restaurant for a slap-up 4 course menu du jour, costing us a whole €16 each. We only had a carafe water to drink, which seems to be fairly normal in France at lunchtime as no-one bats an eyelid, so can’t much complain: two baskets of bread, melon and ham, steak haché and egg-rice, a platter of local cheeses then an apple tart with cream. All delicious, and great service. Bob on – well worth a decent tip!

Lac des LagnesLac des Lagnes Ha, what a great bin-fence!Ha, what a great bin-fence!

Phew! Right, that’s it, up to date! I’m signing off folks!

Take it easy, cheers, Jay

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Departmental Roads

D Roads to Stella Plage, North to the Opal Coast



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Zagan the motorhome’s up against familiar pale yellow dunes in the free aire at Stella Plage (N50.47341, E1.57723), just south of Le Touquet on the Côte d’Opale (the Opal Coast). When we arrived yesterday afternoon, 18 of the 20 spaces of the aire were taken, and another 6 or 7 vans were parked up on the seafront. This morning (which happens to be a Monday) pretty much everyone’s gone, so it seems there were a few weekend wanderers here, rather than the whole of France being packed out with camping cars.

The free motorhome aire at Stella Plage on the Opal CoastThe free motorhome aire at Stella Plage on the Opal Coast

Quick aside: France has a thing about posting signs indicating the full details of local laws, so rather than a great big blunt ‘NO MOTORHOMES’ sign on the sea front spaces, there’s a 4 page notice (in teeny weeny writing) giving precise dates when vans can park outside the aire, where they can park, the fact they need to be self-sufficient for cooking, washing, sleeping and toilet facilities and lots of other details we couldn’t easily translate.  After September, the sea front if fair game, but we’re happy we opted for the aire as the dunes we’re sandwiched between are protecting us beautifully from the wind. Every time we come here there are land yachts or kite surfers hammering up and down the coast.

Motorhomes along the seafront at Stella PlageMotorhomes along the seafront at Stella Plage

Now we’re pooch-less, so don’t need to allow 24 hours after a vet visit before heading to the UK, we could quite easily (with some strong coffee perhaps) motorhome our way home from Paris in a day. Get up early, pile up the A16 toll motorway, grab a train under the channel, free motorway it up to Nottingham. But no, we’re WAY, WAY too lazy for that. That and the fact a couple of hours driving serves to seize my upper back into a mass of painful muscle, in a way no number of press-ups, kilometres on the rowing machine or miles of running can touch.

So we’ve stuck to the old way: France’s departmental (D) roads have brought us here, the equivalent of ‘B’ roads back in Blighty. These smaller roads effectively join the dots between French villages and small towns, and since July 1st this year have a blanket 80kph (50mph) speed limit (previously 90kph). The aim of cutting the max speed is simple: to reduce the number of folks killed (roughly 10 a day) or injured (about 190 people a day) on French roads. Will it work? Time will tell, folks still pull off daft overtakes across solid white lines or in the face of fast oncoming traffic when we’re doing the new limit, so perhaps the lower limit will have the opposite effect? Ju’s updated our TomTom SatNav with the new limits, although it’s wrong in some places: sections of road with two lanes on one side and a single lane on the other, with no central divide, are sign-posted at 90kph for the dual-lane side, while the TomTom has them at 80kph. 

We cruised out of the campsite in Paris on Saturday around noon, having had a cracking stay seeing friends, visiting Versailles, gawping at the art and architecture in La Defense, looking around the Pere Lachaise cemetery and doing some Parkrun tourism. From what we could see, but for a section of roadworks on the way into the city, the roads around Paris flowed easily. Except at rush hour that is, when they were jam-packed for a couple of hours each morning and evening: think six lanes of endless brake lights with occasional horns blaring, that kind of stuff. Sundays were devoid of cars mind you: if you’re concerned about the traffic, come to the city on a Sunday and you’ll have the roads to yourself.

After a long section of free motorway and dual carriageway, the road gradually dwindled down to D road as we headed for a wee free aire at a village called Conty (N49.74425, E2.1565), to the south-west of Amiens (which we visited in 2017). We’d been recommended a visit to Arras by a nice British couple at the campsite in Paris, but we both thought we’d already been. Checking our map we just found we haven’t (doh), so that’s one for the ‘next time’ list. Conty turned out to be a good spot for a kip, a small town with boucheries, boulangeries (Ju can’t resist the artwork cakes these places flog, opting to try one called a Glandan acorn-looking treat), a poste, and a tabac (which had burned down). A kid quaintly greeted us with a passing ‘bonjour monsieur-dame’, and a lady opposite the permanently-shut church popped out her front door and asked whether I was cold (I think, my French is pretty rubbish). The aire was a grassy area away from the main road, a perfect spot for a good night’s sleep (we made sure we were at the far end from the cockerels spotted strutting in a neighbouring garden!).

Le Gland - the acorn cakeLe Gland – the acorn cake

Sunday morning we woke to the distant thud-thud of guns. Shop windows in France have us gawping at the array of shotguns, knives, throwing stars, explosive depth charges and the like you can buy and deploy of a Sunday in vengeful war against the local small mammal population. As we drove in among the fields, groups of blokes with dogs stalked through the low crops, guns at the ready, dogs trotting at their feet. They were pretty easy to spot, being dressed in bright orange jackets with a seemingly pointless camouflage pattern. Exactly what they were hunting, and how come their prey hadn’t been blasted out of existence through this relentless Sunday massacre, we dunno.

Crossing the Somme west of Amiens only took us past a handful of war cemeteries. This area of rolling countryside was the scene of human slaughter a hundred years back, and if we’d been further east the green signs pointing to the war graves would have stood at junction after junction. We didn’t stop to pay our respects though, not this time.

Up here at Stella Plage we’re on familiar ground, having stayed on the same spot two or three times before. I really like it here. The fact there’s only a single bar/cafe (open at the weekends) doesn’t bother me. I like the peace, the dunes, the huge beach. It has an easy living feel to me, a little like the Capbreton aire down towards Spain on the Atlantic coast which we first stayed in seven years ago on our first escape from the big bad World.

The sand dunes of the Opal Coast, south of Le Touquet Paris-PlageThe sand dunes of the Opal Coast, south of Le Touquet Paris-Plage

Our ferry home is at 6am tomorrow from Dunkirk (it was cheaper at that time, who needs sleep?), so we’ll head up to the aire at Oye Plage this afternoon, a shortish drive from the port. From there we’ll nip up the motorway and home to Nottingham, popping Zagan back in storage for a few days while we head off on holiday with friends. He won’t be alone for long, as we’re then grabbing him again for a jaunt up to Bonnie Scotland for a mate’s 65th and to check out the North Coast 500. After that, it’s a December back home and we’ve just about decided to use the van to head south in January for a longish tour through the winter months, Greece and Turkey maybe, not sure yet, watch this space :-).

Kudos to Ju! 10km beach run this morning, good work!

Cheers, Jay

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Parkrun Paris – Bois de Boulogne



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I was first introduced to Parkrun by my running club, or rather I was first taken to a Parkrun by members of my running club. I’d heard about these events taking place all over the world at 9am on Saturday mornings, but I had never dared to venture to one before.

What is Parkrun?

To put it simply, a Parkrun is a free five kilometre (just over 3 miles) run or walk in a local park that is timed. They take place every Saturday morning and are organised by volunteers, who will run or walk them too when they aren’t busy volunteering. This means they know what it’s like to do what you are doing, so they offer fantastic encouragement and support. There’s loads more information as well as locations on the Parkrun website.

My Parkrun history

After my head decided it couldn’t cope back in 2015, I found that exercise really helped me fight depression and anxiety. Swimming is my favourite exercise, but as you can’t always do that when out on the road I went to the local gym, stepped nervously on the running machine and started to walk. Then I walked quicker, then a sort of jog thing, then I got out of breath and it was back to walking. This carried on for quite a few months until I finally reached my goal of being able to run for 15 minutes without stopping, or dying.

My next running goal was, rather ambitiously, the Marrakesh half marathon in January 2017. I survived! And when we returned back to the UK, we both joined the wonderful Kimberley and District Striders (KADS) running club. In January of this year I decided to try a Parkrun, safely accompanied by several members of the running club. I’d avoided Parkruns for ages because I stupidly thought that I would be laughed at, the slowest and left behind, get lost and generally make a fool of myself, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Parkruns all have a beginner’s briefing so you know what to do, and they are marshalled by volunteers so you know where to go. Best of all they have a ‘Tail Walker’ who goes around with the slowest person to offer encouragement and so you are never last. Everyone claps, cheers and encourages each other and the atmosphere is only competitive at the front – the rest of us are competing against ourselves and our times on previous Parkruns. At my local runs if you get a personal best time, you get to ring a bell and have your photo taken to mark the occasion (but only if you want to).

KADS takeover at Brierley Forest ParkrunWhen KADS ‘took over’ a local Parkrun and marshalled it for the day.

While in Paris we stayed in our motorhome at Camping de Paris, which is situated in Bois de Boulogne, a huge park to the west of the city. One of the Paris Parkruns takes place here, and as we were in town we thought it would be rude not to join in. We sussed out that the start was a couple of kilometres from our campsite using a map on their Parkrun course page, helpfully titled ‘For Our English Friends’ (it’s in English while everything else is in French), but as we’d managed to get lost in the park a few times – there are loads of trails and paths to explore, we set the alarm for super early.

It was still dark when we were beeped awake. Leaving the motorhome at just after 8am the sky was brightening up but it was still chilly so we wrapped up as warm as we dare – unsure if we would be able to leave things somewhere safe while we ran. We found a gathering of chilly-looking lyrca-clad folks stood around where we thought the start should be and soon discovered that nearly everyone was from an English-speaking nation. There was a family from Australia, a couple from South Africa and quite a lot of ex-pat and holidaying Brits. The big surprise was how few French people there were. 

in Bois de BoulogneJacket off and running club top on, ready to go at the Paris Parkrun

Soon we were joined by Laurent (the chap in purple in the photo above), the race director for the day, who organised his team of four marshals, then set about giving us all a briefing in both English and French. There seemed to be less rules here than at the UK Parkruns I’ve done. At home dogs must be on a short lead, but here they joined in and ran freely (nearly taking out a runner or two) but then there were dogs all over the park running freely, so why would you stop them?

The main difference was the number of runners. Back home we have several Parkruns within a half hour drive of us, and each get around 100 – 200 folks taking part. In Paris I had expected loads of people, but there were only around 30 runners, and it’s not like there weren’t hundreds of folks running around in the park, they just didn’t want to join the Parkrun. I overheard one of the marshalls (an English lady) saying it’s basically an ex-pat event and the French haven’t taken to it. I have no idea why, but to me that’s a big shame.

Paris Parkrun Course BriefingCourse briefing at Paris Parkrun

After the briefing it was time for the off and all thoughts of being chilly disappeared as I headed off at top speed – I can’t help myself, it always happens when I run in a group. Jay had done a 16 mile training run the day before, so opted to jog around with me (yes my top speed is his slow speed) and enjoy the event. We got chatting to a few folks as we went around, or rather I was rasping out the odd sentence on any slightly down hill section of the course.

Less than 30 minutes later it was all over and we were cheered over the line. Laurent timed us as we crossed the line and we were given a finishers chip. I took a photo as I was the 28th finisher, probably the lowest number  I’ll ever get! I took my personal barcode and the finisher’s chip to one of the volunteers who scanned them both, recording my details into the system.

A little later I got an email with my finishing time. At the start of the year I set a goal to run a timed 5k in under 30 minutes (my Strava recording of runs on my phone is a tad erratic so doesn’t really count), and at the Paris Parkrun I achieved my goal – I crossed the line in 29 minutes and 8 seconds. I was so happy, I treated myself to a Pain au Chocolat for breakfast, and a cake from a boulangerie at dinner.

After our run to the Eiffel Tower when we arrived in Paris, this, for me, was the perfect way to end our trip to Paris. There is still so much more to see in the city, but it gives us a good excuse to come back another time – especially now we know how accessible it is in a motorhome.

Can’t believe this was only just over a week ago!

Ju x

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La Defense, Paris : Modern Art and Architecture



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La Defense Paris

It was during out summer tour of Scandinavia in 2016 that we stopped in Aarhus in Denmark. Our guidebook recommended visiting ARoS, the modern art museum, so we did, and we loved it. After walking around Versailles the other day, with its walls full of huge paintings of battles and people gone by, we’d had our fill of paintings and sculpture, so we decided not to visit the Louvre. I know, I know, it’s a must see, but we just didn’t fancy it, so we’ve saved it for another trip.

After exploring the Pere Lachaise cemetery, we popped into a few other places in Paris using our metro pass, ending up in the museum of Modern Art. It’s free to see the permanent exhibitions, but they were just about to close when we arrived. With time against us all we could do was have a quick nose around one of the rooms and ogle a Picasso before we left. Just those few minutes in that one room reminded me of ARoS and why I like some modern art; canvasses full of bright colours left your imagination to see what it wants.

On our last full day in Paris we headed out for a run around the nearby park. Across the water from us was La Defense, the business district of Paris. Glossy, glassy monuments to corporate-ville rising up above the trees, themselves a form of art, decorating the skyline for miles around.

Running around the Bois de Boulogne in ParisJay going great on his 16 mile run around the Bois de Boulogne

Our Paris guidebook came from a charity shop, as do most of our guidebooks. This means it’s about 10 years old, but it mentioned lots of artwork around La Defense, and it sounded like my kind of artwork. After a suitable recovery time from the morning run and a spot of late lunch, we set off to walk along the river to see what was hidden among the towers.

La Defense ParisThe Skyscrapers of La Defense

Arriving at the Pont de Neuilly at the eastern end of La Defense, we took an outdoor escalator up a level, then a flight of stairs to reach the Esplanade du General de Gaulle. This vast, open plan, area greeted us with a large pool of water filled with spirals with lights on top. The Takis fountain is supposed to offer an amazing reflection of the sky scrapers around us – but sadly it was a little windy, so the water wasn’t flat.

An art installation at Le DefenseJay lying on a street, or is he? An art installation at Le Defense

Moving along the esplanade it was clear that there were additional artwork installations – including a huge cut out of ‘Auntie Maria’ by Hanif Kursehi which stared out at us as we played around the base of ‘La Moretti’, a multi-coloured ventilation shaft by Raymond Moretti.

Auntie Maria and La Moretti La Defense Paris

At exactly 5pm the 55 jets in The Esplanade Fountain, by Yaacov Agam, started to dance for us. I joked the fountains must mean home time for the office workers in the towers around us. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than revolving doors picked up pace and other doors flung open to cope with the hundreds of laptop-bag carrying folks emerging onto Place de La Defense to start their commute home – some of the half a million people who work here.

Just as the fountain kicked into life at 5pm, La Defense did so too, and became a bustling street. A coffee company took the increase in footfall to offer free samples of their latest brew, and as we weren’t in a rush like everyone else, we took full advantage while watching the world go by. Another wave of bodies washed by us at 6pm, and at that point we realised just how long we’d been here.

Lilian Bourgeat public benchTaking a break on one of Lilian Bourgeat’s public benches home time at la defenseRush hour at La Defense

If you get a map of Paris and draw a straight line from The Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe you’ll be drawing along the Champs-Elysees. Carry that line further out and across the Seine and you’ll be drawing along the walkway we were taking, known as the Axe de La Defense. This became clear as we climbed the steps of La Grande Arche and looked out across the city – the Arc de Triumph clearly visible, if tiny in the distance.

La Grande ArcheLa Grande Arche View along Axe de La DefenseView along Axe de La Defense

Rush hour in La Defense is different to the rush hour I was used to back home. Mine were mainly spent sitting in a traffic jam, but here most folks walk to the metro to be whisked home like you would on the tube in London. But there are always a few exceptions to the rule and these were the people I was most enjoying watching. Grown men and women, be-suited in office attire whizzing along on electric scooters, but without the huge grin any child would have on such a toy. There were also folks on one-wheeled gyroscope thingys (I have no idea what they are called) gliding around and making the whole place look even more sci-fi than it already does. 

The Thumb CesarThe Thumb or Le Pouce by Cesar – one of my favourite pieces here

I guess in my mind that sums up La Defense. It’s a place of business and a futuristic looking place of fun, where life’s norms are challenged and you are made to stop and stare. Like ARoS, I loved this place and can certainly recommend a trip over to see it if you have the time. It’s about a 10km round trip if walking from Camping de Paris, but if you time it right and arrive around 5pm on a sunny day, I can think of no better place to people watch and explore some free modern art to see if you like it too.

Ju x

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