Why are the Eurostar terminals at St Pancras and Gard du Nord always so crowded and, if a train is delayed or cancelled, overcrowded?
1994-2007 the London end was at Waterloo but when in moved to Pankers it should have been more spacious but it isn’t. Trains got longer (they are 431 yards long now) and journey time was shortened by twenty minutes (two and a quarter hours now) so I can only guess there are more trains going to more destinations. No complaints about the train and then it’s only three stops on the RER to Luxembourg, an hotel and lunch.
On Saint-Germain-des-Prés, beside the church of the same name, are three elderly, venerable restaurants: Café de Flore (1887), Les Deux Magots (1884) and Brasserie Lipp (1880). Their proximity and longevity is remarkable but they have another unusual feature. You may recall Restaurant Drouant (1880) hosts the judging for the Prix Goncourt. Well, these three award literary prizes too, the McGuffin being their popularity with famous authors and artists.
“The Prix de Flore is a French literary prize founded in 1994 by Frédéric Beigbeder. The aim of the prize is to reward youthful authors and it is judged by a panel of journalists. It is awarded yearly in November, at the Café de Flore. The laureate of the Prix de Flore wins about 6,000 Euros and is entitled to drink a glass of Pouilly-Fumé at the café every day for a year. The laureate’s name is engraved on the glass.
The Prix des Deux Magots is a major French literary prize. It is presented to new works, and is generally awarded to works that are more off-beat and less conventional than those that receive the more mainstream Prix Goncourt.
In 1935, then innkeeper Marcellin Cazes established the Prix Cazes, a literary prize awarded (at Brasserie Lipp) each year to an author who has won no other literary prize.” (All Wikipedia, abridged)
We had lunch at Lipp, which Robin informs me means “flag”, the thing you fly from a pole, in Estonian. It was full but we were fitted in outside on a verandah enclosed by glass – like at the lamented Le Colombier in London. It was top notch for people watching. There were three tables of chic women lunching alone and burdened with bags from smart shops on St G d P. He had hareng Bismark, côte de veau aux morilles and crème caramel; I had oeuf en gelée, rognons de veau à la graine de moutarde and millefeuille.
After lunch we popped into the church, possibly the oldest in Paris, before walking to the rather famous bookshop, Shakespeare, where there was a queue to get in.