Run away from armed security guards in the middle of a bomb scare.

Thats what happened yesterday at Paris Charles de Gaulle airport.

But I`ll get to that in a minute.

Now I`m back in my flat in Edinburgh having travelled back from Paris yesterday. I never thought I`d say this, but it nice being back somewhere warm. Compared to Paris, Edinburgh is practically tropical.

So yesterday I get to Paris CDG terminal 1 and head for check in desk 5, home to the mighty flybe from whom I had purchased a single ticket to Edinburgh for 80 euros. Well, not really, that was the quote I got from their website. Yeah right, 88 euros if you dont include the tax, airport duty, checking bags and even the cost of a seat on the flight. Yes, with flybe its extra if you want a seat on the flight you have just booked. Next time I`m sitting on the wing. After all the ‘extras’ the ticket cost 143 euros.

I bet that in an emergency you`d have to cough up for a life jacket and that if oxygen masks dropped from the overhead panels there would be a meter counting up next to them.

So I wait in line for 20 minutes and get to the front of the queue. Then they close the check in desks….

All of them.

Apparently there is a bomb in the airport and the terminal has to be evacuated.

Soon there are armed security guards pushing everyone in the terminal towards the exits. Eventually we were all moved into a corner of the airport terminal and told to wait until further notice.

But this wa not good enough for one woman.

She decided to make a break for it.

And legged i past the men holding machine guns.

And she did not stop until she was wrestled to the ground in tears.

Her daughters, who she was apparently travelling with burst into tears at the sight of their mum being carried away at gun point. Not surprising really.

The thing is, I have no idea where she was planning on going, or doing. All the check in gates were closed so she could not go anywhere and all security staff had been moved out so she could not have gone through to the departure gate anyway.

I guess these are questions she`ll be asking herself in a Paris prison cell this morning.

The funny part is that less than 3 minutes after the escape attempt the bomb scare was over and all the check in desks opened up again.

Which I found very very funny.

Her daughters did not

Last night I did something that I`ve wanted to do for years, eat in a restaurant with a Michelin star.

Michelin stars, as most of you already know are the gold standard of cuisine.

In the Michelin guide for Great Britain and Ireland 2007 there are 122 restaurants with 1, 2 or 3 stars. Most are in London and only 3 restaurants in the entire list have the maximum of 3 stars, one of those is run by Gordon Ramsey.

Restaurants with Michelin stars are much more common over here in France. The French guide 2007 lists 527 eateries with stars. Many of which are in Paris. So the other day at work we all decided to try one of them out. So we got a list of the restaurants with 1 star and picked one at random.

That turned out to be Restaurant Jean.

After waiting for years to get to one of these places I was not disappointed.

The starter was good.

The main was awesome

And dessert was top.

Add on to that the snacks they brought us in between courses, the selection of chocolates, nuts, biscuits and marshmallows we were served during coffee and not forgetting the bottle of des hauts des chassis crozes hermitage, which is as about as good a wine as I`ve ever had, it was a pretty special evening.

Plus the service was first class too, not anywhere near as fussy and snotty as I`d thought it might be.

I just wish they had not brought out a bottle of cognac for us at the end of the evening.

That might explain why I`m not exactly at 100 percent today.

Or maybe its because of the beers we had afterwards.

Must have had a bad pint.

Anyway, now I`ve been to one I`m up for trying another. So when I`m back at Christmas I`m going to try and get a place at one of only 3 restaurants in Edinburgh to have a star, The Kitchin, Number One at the Balmoral or Martin Wishart.

Although I think I might wait until my parents come to visit before I go.

Last weekend saw more sightseeing around Paris. This time around my companion was Fi, who had come over to visit for the weekend to take in the sights of Paris.

The weekend had a touch of deja vous because the places we went to were pretty much the same as those I went to the previous weekend, but at least this time the weather was a bit more kind.

Instead of heading around la Louvre we chose to go to Notre-Dame Cathedral

Sadly we could not climb to the top because the Frenchies were all protesting outside about the price of cheese - or something like that, so the police were not allowing anyone inside..

The evening saw us climb the Arc De Triomphe just as the sun was setting, which was pretty cool.

Fi had to head off pretty early on Sunday morning which left me plenty of time to pursue my new found hobbies.

You would be amazed at how bored you get in hotels. So far I`ve stolen 56 mini bars of soap, 23 tea bags, 13 AA batteries from my TV remote control and 3 light bulbs.

But getting free stuff from the hotel is not my favourite hobby.

Yesterday afternoon I walked along the hotel corridors taking off the “do not disturb” signs from people’s rooms and replacing them with “please tidy my room” signs and then waiting outside to hear the screams.

Its an amazing hobby.

I suggest you try it

Some wise ass asked me the other day, sarcastically of course, if i had managed to find a gym yet in Paris.The answer is obviously yes. In fact I found a gym within a couple of hours of landing here in Paris even though I had been awake for nearly 36 hours at the time.

Some things just cannot wait.

Anyway, it turns out that there is also a gym in my hotel. Its a bit small, but its good enough for a few weeks for most things.

But not when I`m going to do a serious, go rip it up, show the weeds how its done massive chest session.

No, for that I need big weights in a big gym.

So yesterday I went to the gym I found on the day I landed.

And I wont be going back.

I walk in and get charged the discount rate of 15 euros for entry - almost as much as my entire monthly membership for Meridian back in California.

After that I walk around for a bit and look for the free weights. There are none. Shocker.

Quite a lot of men here too.

They have a couple of Smith machines, the closest I`m going to get free weights around here.

But they are both surrounded by lots of men.

So I start to use the machines there, which is something I never normally do at the gym, but there seems little other option. But even using the machines there were people just stand there waiting, staring at you, wanting you to finish.

All of them men, wearing very tight skimpy clothes.

So after about 12 sets on the so called machine bench press and the excuse for peck deck I head off to the abs area.

Walking past a couple mens locker rooms.

Hang on,

something aint right here.

Have you guessed yet?

Yep, this was a gym for the dark side.

Not only had I been duped into going to a gym with hardly any equipment, that is too hot without any eye candy, and had a very specific clientele, but I had paid 15 euros for the privilege.

That is why the gym I went to last night is the worst gym in the world.

Ever.

Today it took me an hour an a half to get to work rather than the usual 50 minutes.

Since I arrived in Paris 2 weeks ago I`ve had to deal with riots, bombs going off just down the road from my hotel and now strikes. I have no idea what had brought about this latest rail strike, I assume its because the drivers want more free cheese with their breakfast, or maybe they just fancied the day off to go shopping, or maybe its just because the wind was blowing at just the wrong speed. Who knows, they seem to go on strike for any reason over here.

Apparently this is only a “mini strike", the real strike will start next Thursday.

That`ll be fun.

At least the canteen here at work always has a good supply of beer and wine available at lunch time. Perhaps I`ll just set up camp there drinking my own body weight in French red wine and try to keep myself alive until the trains start running again.

Perhaps.

When I was last back in Edinburgh earlier this year I was walking up the Royal Mile, just randomly wondering about. I came across one of the many ghost tour guides that you tend to get there, of which I have done many and would recommend to anyone who either lives in or goes to visit Edinburgh, particularly the Mercat Vaults tour. Anyway, I start talking to this girl who is trying to convince me to do her tour. The conversation went something like:

me - “no thanks, I`m on my way somewhere and I`ve already done most of the ghost tours already”

guide - “oh, which ones have you done".

me - “most I think, the underground vaults where you go under the south bridge, the Greyfriars bobby tour in the graveyard and another one where you go into vaults that were only discovered in the 60s and you get a glass of whisky at the end. I didn’t like that one, thought it was the worst one I`ve done”

guide - “Thats my tour”

DOH!

That was indeed a foot in mouth moment, and I found out this morning that there is an annual award for such events. The Plain English Campaign | Foot in Mouth, which every year delivers its award for the worst - or best - foot in mouth comment. The award this year goes to the former England manager - Steve McClaren who came out with this gem during a radio interview:

He (Wayne Rooney) is inexperienced, but he’s experienced in terms of what he’s been through

Sharp that, real sharp.

Although I think mine was better.

This morning I put my mother back on a train to Paris Charles de Gaulle airport after she came over for the weekend to visit.

It was her first time in France and considering that she has always refused to even consider coming over to France the weekend was a pretty big deal for her.

So I`m glad that it went really well and we had a lot of fun taking in all the sights.

Saturday saw us walk around La Louvre and we saw a picture with loads of people around it. I think it is kinda famous:

I reckon I could have done that.

Anyway, there were other things there that must have been famous too because they had loads of people around them, but I had no idea what they were.

So after all that we went forth to take on the Eiffel Tower.

Sadly, because there were severe winds and rain that day the third floor of the tower was closed, and to be fair that was good decision because on the second floor alone the weather was terrible. The wind even managed to tear off the rain coat my mum was wearing.

Sunday’s weather was no better, but we still marched on up Les Champs-Elysees and to the Arc de Triomphe:

Which you can climb the top to which is something I`ve not done before. You get a pretty good view too:

So that was it. Some food and a beer in the Frog and Rosbif and that was the weekend.

I will be returning to the Eiffel Tower next Saturday. The wind may have stopped me last time, but mark my words. I will have the British flag flying from the top of that tower if its the last thing I do

And it might well be..

After just 1 weekend in Paris I`m starting to turn into Alan Partridge.

I`m writing this entry from the office cafe in Paris because I`ve not been allowed into the main building by the company security guards. It turns out that my security clearance forms which show that I`m allowed to work on my project have not been sent through by the DVA to the offices here in Paris despite the fact that they were told 4 weeks ago the dates that I`d be here. All they need to do is fax through a couple of pieces of paper and thats all. It seems as though that is too much to ask. So this morning, despite the fact that I`ve been working here in Paris since last Wednesday without problems, I`ll just have to wait in the cafe.

So given the conversations here this morning its likely that I`ll just be sent home, which will give me an opportunity to do some sightseeing, after all, I did precious little of that over the weekend.

Paris had severe winds and rain all weekend so much so that I did not stray far from my hotel room.

I swear that at one point I was so bored that I actually considered dressing up like a zombie using my shower curtain and some tungsten nails just like Mr Partridge himself.

But that would just have been a regular Saturday night for me

Aha!!!!

UPDATE
Its 13:30 here and I`ve now been told I wont be able to get in before lunch time tomorrow so I should go home. Right - off sightseeing me thinks…….

By Wednesday it was time to leave San Francisco and head east towards Sequoia National park. It was a long drive so instead of heading straight to the park we stayed the night in a place called Visalia and at a B&B there called Ben Maddox house.

Ben Maddox was a great place to stay, a great big old house all dressed up for Christmas and run by an Irish lady called Lucy. When we arrived after our 5 and a half hour drive we were welcomed with a glass of port and a cheese board. There was even a bottle of wine in our room which even had its own Jacuzzi bath.

Lucy made us a reservation at one of the local restaurants for dinner and even gave us a lift there in the company car. The day after I ate more food for breakfast than I think I managed for the rest of the holiday put together with home made French toast, muffins and a full Irish breakfast with proper British sausages – something that you cant buy in America for love nor money – I`ve tried both.

So leaving Ben Maddox behind we moved 30 miles north and entered Sequoia national park – home to the worlds largest trees.

Although we did not see any bears they were definitely around – there seemed to be signs every hundred feet reminding people to not approach the bears – something you`d expect most people to know already.

So after doing a walk around the Giant Forest we went off in search of General Sherman - The worlds largest tree with a height of 250 feet and a circumference at the base of 103 feet.

Sadly we didn’t have time to head further north to Kings Canyon because we had run out of days for the road trip so we spent Thanksgiving night in Bakersfield before heading back home to the OC.

So there you go, 8 days 1250 miles, 5 hotels, 10 different cities and thousands of pounds down – and it was worth every penny …. I think……. And the latest trip was over. Already though we are planning the next one in February, I think I may have to sell a kidney.

That’s not all that happened on the holiday though there were one or two near death experiences…..