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from the Preface to An Hour From Paris
Several years ago I found myself in the middle of a wood, as completely lost as if I were in Africa, rather than 19 kilometres from Paris. Three paths lay in front of me with no indication of where they might lead and there was not a soul in sight. It suddenly occurred to me that no one knew where I was and that I would never dream of venturing out alone like this near London.
On impulse I took the left path, which soon brought me to houses at the edge of the wood, and knocked on the door of the nearest one. Five minutes later, following the owner's directions through the same wood, I saw the rooftops of an elegant château emerging through the trees and came out onto a sweeping lawn leading straight up to it. Feeling as if I had stepped into a fairytale, I skirted the château, which looked as if it might vanish as unexpectedly as it had appeared, and peeked over a stone balustrade to the left.
Sunny rolling countryside lay below me, stretching into the distance as far as I could see, crossed by the moving shadows of the clouds overhead. A few planes purred in the distance and I realised I was under the flight path to Charles de Gaulle airport. Otherwise, I could have believed myself back in the 16th century, when the château behind me had been built.
This particular château houses the Museum of the Renaissance at Ecouen, 23 minutes from Paris by train. I had rung the Museum and been told it was 'about five kilometres' on foot from the station. In fact it is just over one kilometre, and the woodland paths are now signposted. But it was this early experience that first made me aware of just how interesting and accessible the countryside around Paris is, and how little-known to the French themselves, as well as to foreigners.
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