Montmartre After Dark: A Hotel, a Dinner and New Friends

There is a particular pleasure in arriving at a hotel and finding that the thing you came for is right there on the roof. At the Terras in Montmartre it is the Eiffel Tower, visible from the terrace, and the first thing I did after checking in was go up and look at it.

Montmartre had been on my mind for years. I had read endless stories about the artists and writers who spent time there, about the life of the place, the sights and the history, and I had decided to give it a proper share of my Paris trip. Van Gogh lived in the area for a long stretch, largely without money or recognition.

What I wanted was simple: to walk past the Moulin Rouge, wander the small streets and cafes, climb the steps to Sacré-Cœur and see that corner of the city on foot. The Terras, newly renovated, put me a short walk from the Moulin Rouge, Sacré-Cœur and the Montmartre Cemetery, and close to two metro stations, Blanche and Place de Clichy, plus several bus stops. That made the rest of Paris easy too.

The hotel

My room was well equipped and comfortable, the reception staff friendly and helpful, and the decor genuinely good. I ended up spending time in the common area, leafing through books in the mini-library, looking at the wall art and, yes, playing on the video gaming machine.

Breakfast is served on the terrace with the tower in view, and the buffet is generous. Starting a day like that is hard to improve on.

Walking to the Moulin Rouge

One evening, on the way back from Trocadéro, I got off the metro at Pigalle and walked. This part of Paris is not only history and postcards. It has a raw edge: sex shops, crowds of tourists, adult shows, restaurants large and small, cafes and museums. Keep going straight and the red windmill appears ahead of you.

Paula of the Contented Traveller has described how Montmartre once lay outside the physical limits of Paris, a place where respectable, wealthy Parisians went when they wanted to let loose, and where, as she puts it, what went on in Montmartre stayed in Montmartre.

The Moulin Rouge is said to stage the most spectacular cabaret in Paris. Tickets must be booked in advance and formal dress is required. Next time I want to see the Féerie, performed by a troupe of 80 artists including the Dorris Girls, with original scores, bejewelled costumes and elaborate sets. We did not go in this time. After a long day of walking, what we wanted was a chair and food.

Dinner and a long conversation

Further down the road we spotted an Indian restaurant and decided to try it. The prices looked too good to be true, the room was pleasant and there were plenty of diners. Partway through the meal I asked our waiter, who looked South-East Asian, how long he had been in Paris. That one question turned into a conversation that ran, on and off, all evening.

He was from Pakistan and had started at the restaurant a month earlier. Two of our friends came from the same city, and we talked about how he had ended up here and what it was like to live so far from home. His English was not strong, but his French was excellent, and we found common ground: he spoke Urdu, we spoke Hindi. He was delighted, because in a month no other diner had spoken to him about anything except the menu. Before we left he showed us photographs from his wedding, held recently in France, and said he hoped to open his own restaurant as soon as he could.

Travelling has taught me this: when you are far from home, meeting someone who understands your mother tongue is a small comfort. People are glad if you smile and ask how they are. You do not know what someone is carrying, and a light conversation may be what turns their day. Travel also wears away the stereotypes and the noise of the news, if you let it.

The terrace, at the hour

We walked back past cafes and revelry, the conversation still with us, and went up to the terrace before bed. I looked at the Eiffel Tower and remembered the illuminations on the night I arrived. I had not known the timing, and they caught me completely by surprise.

The tower is illuminated hourly at night. A voice beside us said how beautiful it was, I agreed, and that was how the next conversation began. He was French, visiting the terrace bar with two friends, and he invited us to their table. One of the group, a Canadian, also spoke Hindi. He had travelled in India years before and fallen for a Bullet motorbike, enough to import one to France, a process that took about a year.

We talked about how people from different countries see each other, about culture, food, Paris and the French. Someone asked whether locals tire of the tower and the lights. "We don't really see it every day," one of them said; it is visible from much of the city, but not from every home. They wanted to know what we did for a living and how we had found the hotel, which had been closed for renovation. All three lived nearby and had come to see the new look now that it had reopened.

So strangers became friends on the terrace, and we watched the illuminations again as the hour turned. Earlier he had asked what we thought of French people. We said the ones we had met were friendly. "And romantic!" he said. "France is the country of love. Of love! Love!"

Thanks to the Hotel Terras for hosting me; all opinions are my own. Thanks also to the Paris Convention and Visitors Bureau for help exploring the city. Their office at 25, rue des Pyramides, 75001 Paris, is the place for information, tickets and planning.