On the next morning we left our bikes behind to guard the apartment and tried walking around Paris. Our walking muscles had atrophied, and this proved to be a task more challenging than expected. Around as many of the major sights we could manage, and through random little back streets and interesting areas, in and out of shops and museums, until meeting up with friends for hot chocolate later in the day. This was the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had, and I may never be able to drink a normal hot chocolate ever again. Rather unfortunately it was followed up by the best falafel I’d ever had, in the Jewish section of town. With our cyclist’s appetites still fully intact, we then went out for a second dinner with the friends we were staying with, and swore we’d never be able to eat normal food again.
The following morning had us repacking and riding our bikes down to catch the Eurostar at Gare du Nord. We’d decided to pay the extra to have our bikes transported fully assembled – which was definitely worth it given the lower levels of hassle, and the small luggage space available for normal luggage on the train. Even our pannier sacks (the trusty cheap stripy plastic woven bags) took up a lot of room.
We cleared through French and UK immigration without any problems – there were no Schengen zone questions directed as Alex. This was something which we’d worried about – Australian nationals are now limited to 3 months travel within the Schengen zone, making extended European trips illegal. But I’m a dual EU/Australian citizen, and technically as we were married and he’s a visa waiver national then we could live and work in any country – we just have to register by 3 months. Travelling should also be covered under this provision, but I didn’t really want to have to argue the point, and didn’t have any documentation to help back me up. Due to the lack of stamps in his passport it wasn’t really obvious when we’d entered the Schengen zone, which we’d been in for just a little over 3 months – I can see this being a problem if we’d hit an uncooperative border guard, even if we’d been in the Schengen zone for under 3 months, as the onus is on you to be able to prove it.
The Eurostar seemed to take no time at all, and the chunnel section was barely obvious – maybe one day it will be a glass tunnel so we could stare out at all the plastic floating around in the sea. Then finally – London. We grabbed the man who was trying to escape to somewhere inconvenient with our bikes, and reattached panniers, exited to meet our mountainbiking old family friend who was meeting us, and headed off into London, and a much less simple world.