Description: After an overnight train ride from Venice we arrived at Bercy Station near Gare de Lyon and grabbed a taxi to head for our lodgings, the 52 room Hotel Atlanta Frochot. It was described as being ideally located between Montmartre and the Paris Opera House and within walking distance of a major Metro Station. Surprisingly, the taxi driver had some difficulty figuring out where Rue Frochot is but we finally got rolling. It was a long ride from the station. As we neared the hotel, the neighborhood became tackier and tackier. When we finally arrived, Tom and I realized we were in the center of the Pigalle red light district or, as it was lovingly referred to by WW II GIs, Pig Alley. Whoops!
The desk clerk told us it was too early to check into the hotel so, leaving our bags, we wandered to a nearby brasserie for coffee and croissants. We finally checked in. Our recently refurbished rooms were small and, as is usual in Paris, without air-conditioning. I had a beautiful view of three other walls that surrounded the air shaft outside my window. The room was clean, though, and the mattress was firm. The shower met my minimum standards, that is I could wash myself without having to leave the shower stall. Breakfast consisted basically of a good croissant and great coffee. The hotel staff people were very friendly and helpful for our entire stay. The hotel was located only half block from the Pigalle metro station so travel to any part of Paris was quite easy.
The attractive desk clerk, whose picture is below, gave us a lecture on how to protect our belongings and warned us of the dangers in the neighborhood. So here are Tom, 69 and myself, 67 being cautioned by a 25-year-old. I suspect the only real danger we were in, since we don’t stay out late and are highly unlikely to sample the wares being offered on the street corners, was to drop dead of shock if we were ever propositioned.
The first evening we asked the night clerk, an expatriate Brit with an inexhaustible supply of bad jokes, for a restaurant recommendation. He did come up with a great recommendation, though, The Blue Rose. When we returned full of good food and wine, all I wanted to do is go to sleep. Unfortunately, a couple one floor below me decided to have a marathon love-making session with their window open. The air shaft was a great sound conductor. I heard everything. Since there was no air conditioning, I was loathe to close my window and try as I might; I couldn’t see what they were doing. I made some noise to help them realize they realize they were not alone and they eventually closed their window.
The Atlanta Frochot meets the three-star standard for Paris. The price is a good value. The reason I didn’t rate it higher was its location.
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