There is a particular kind of Friday evening I have come to recognise. A couple leaves London St Pancras at half past six. Two hours and fifteen minutes later, the Eurostar pulls into Gare du Nord. Paris is there, already. No airport queue. No boarding gate. No security theatre for a domestic flight to Nice. […]

It’s 6:47 in the morning. You’ve been awake since 4 — jet lag, or nerves, or both — and the light coming through the curtains of your room at the Shangri-La is doing something you didn’t expect. It’s not the golden-hour warmth you know from California. It’s cooler than that. More horizontal. The Eiffel Tower […]
