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Once Upon a Time in Paris
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By: Hilary Doling, Issue 37 – Summer 2009
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Paris, France
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BEDTIME STORIES IN FAMILY-FRIENDLY FIVE STAR HOTELS, HISTORY COMES TO LIFE, CITY ADVENTURES; IT TURNS OUT CHILDREN LOVE FRANCE’S ROMANTIC CAPITAL TOO.
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Sacre Bleu!” exclaims my son in response to an innocent request to tidy his room. He’s been dropping into the French vernacular at any given opportunity lately ever since we came back from a trip to France. The phrase ‘oo la la’ is another favourite, accompanied by a very Parisian shrug of the shoulders. Of all the places we visited on our recent family sojourn in Europe it is Paris that has left the most lasting impression. What does he love about Paris?
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Everything it seems; the pavement cafes, the people, the steak and pomme frites and most of all the breakfast pain au chocolat. The city of amour isn’t just a place that adults lose their hearts to. “J’adore Paris” he says when I tell him I’m writing this article, just to prove the point.
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At first glance, sophisticated, stylish Paris might not seem like the ideal destination for the young and sticky fingered. The French after all are not as doting as the Italians who love to kiss every new bambini they meet on both chubby cheeks and then whisk them away to be admired by half the town. The French are more reserved, more chic, more superieur. However the hotels we stay in, while being two of the chicest in the capital also prove to be phenomenally child-friendly. Managing somehow to be five star and fabulous while still making les enfantsfeel at home.
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At the Plaza Athénée, with it geranium-red awnings and ivy covered courtyard, a matching red teddy bear with the hotel’s name emblazoned on his chest, is propped up on the bed to welcome us. There is also a child pack with a colouring book of Parisian scenes and crayons. When we come back from a stroll up the Champs Elysées, acroissant-toss from the hotel, a surprise of milk and an enormous homemade chocolate chip cookie is waiting. These little touches continue throughout our stay. In autumn an old fashioned carousel revolves in La Cour Jardin, the hotel’s courtyard, and for winter (December to the end of January) the courtyard is transformed into an ice rink that families can skate on. At Christmas there is also a complimentary horse drawn carriage to trot you down to Place de la Concorde; younger guests get a blanket to cuddle under and creamy hot chocolate to drink. Those looking for a suitable hotel souvenir can take home little red baby shoes, teddies, mini umbrellas, red pint-sized bathrobes and best of all a children’s working cabriolet car modeled on a 1930s BMW and available to order at a mere 15,000 Euro; which makes those one-Euro Eiffel Tower key rings they flog on the Champs Elysées look a trifle tacky. The car’s top speed is only 12 kilometres an hour, so the only accident will be in the vicinity of your wallet.
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From the Plaza it is an easy to walk to the Arc de Triomphe. We climb it and stare down at the broad boulevards, which span out from the monument like the spokes of a bike wheel. In the other direction we can stroll down to the River Seine and across to the Eiffel Tower.
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On the river we hop on a Bateaux Mouche boat and take a watery ride down to the Musee D’Orsay and Notre Dame with its Hunchback stories and fantastic gargoyles as scary as cartoon super-villains.
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After a couple of days we change to Fabulous Location Number Two and stay at the designer-chic Le Meurice, which is slap bang opposite the Jardin des Tuileries with toy boat pond and funfair. From here we can walk to The Louvre and find that the upturned glass pyramid under the museum is more engaging to a small boy than the Mona Lisa. No surprises there. More surprisingly our son loves, and comments on, the quirky beauty of the Philippe Starck designed Le Meurice foyer.
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The subtle surrealist touches, in homage to Salvador Dali who stayed at the hotel every December for 30 years, appeal to a child’s sense of fun. Le Meurice has incorporated clever child-friendly touches into its elegant designer refurbishment such as a sand-filled picture frame in the lobby where children can leave their handprints and signatures.
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Upstairs a litter of fluffy white toy dogs are scattered around our room, the largest, called Pistache, sits on the bed to greet the youngest member of our party alongside kid-sized slippers and bathrobe, a mint green cone of many and various bon bons, and a guide book to Paris with questions and colouring pages to be filled in. The suite is beautiful and we all love the view over the Paris roof tops from our open, stained-glass bathroom windows.
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The hotel concierge is happy to organize a treasure hunt for children and best of all you can take Le Meurice custom-made toy wooden boats and sail them in the Jardin des Tuileries pond just as Parisian children have been doing for a hundred years. All our boy lacks is a straw boater and a Peter Pan collar to look as if he’d stepped straight out of the pages of Madeline or The little Prince.
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Children behave well in Paris, they seem to rise to the challenge of all that art and culture and politeness; they acquire a sort of Parisian polish and handle white table-clothed restaurants and five star lobbies with aplomb. Amazed I watch as my knock-about son shakes hands with the concierge, offers his name politely – “Bonjour Je m’appelle Alex” – and enquires as to the gentleman’s health –“Comment ca va?”– all unprompted.
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Granted he can’t understand the reply, which differs from the one we have practiced back home, but nevertheless the city’s sophistication is obviously rubbing off. The joy of Paris is that there are also plenty of places to let off steam. A day at the Bois de Bologne riding the toy train or a pony or dashing about the playgrounds works well, so does a bike ride along the Seine or you can even take a sewer tour under the city – very Victor Hugo.
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If after all this you still have a hyper-active child I recommend walking them up the Eiffel Tower. That will fix ‘em. The added advantage of this is that the queues for the lifts can stretch half way along the Seine but the legs of the tower, which you walk up, are rarely crowded. Too soon it is our last day and we’re off to take the Eurostar back to London (so much more fun than a plane). “A bientot” says our 9-year-old to the pretty girl on the check-out desk blowing her an extravagant kiss – clearly a born-again Frenchman from now on.
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Details:
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Hôtel Plaza Athénée
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Le Meurice
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Eurostar Phone
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