From London to Paris by Train:

My first encounter with a European heatwave

Eiffel Tower, Paris, France — Photo by Yvonne

I just got back to the UK. Honestly, those few days of intense French heatwaves have left me completely terrified of European summers. Melting under 41 to 43 degrees Celsius every single day, I found myself enduring a brutal stretch of weather that genuinely makes you question your entire existence. Oddly enough, I’m still torn on the trip. Did a quick three-day getaway under those hellish conditions make me incredibly unlucky, or was I strangely fortunate?

It all started back in May. Spotting a massive Eurostar sale online, I booked the tickets without a second thought, driven by a lifelong curiosity about what it actually feels like to travel from London to Paris by train. On day one, I dragged myself out of bed at 4:00 AM to catch a bus to London St Pancras. I usually never wake up that early. Fortunately, a massive pre-trip adrenaline rush kicked in, completely erasing any hint of fatigue from my mind. London at that hour felt crisp and cool. Little did I know that just a few hours later, I’d be stepping straight into a 40-degree French oven.

Customs went by in a flash. Rolling through the French border control, getting my fingerprints scanned, and tossing my bags through security took almost no time at all, completely shattering my expectations of a grueling border process. To be fair, I had booked the very first train of the day. Because of that, the station staff hadn’t even opened the platforms yet, leaving me to hang around the lounge for a while before boarding finally began.

My seat was surprisingly huge. Luck smiled on me too, since I managed to snag a window spot. Glancing at the onboard screens right after departure, I realized our route would take us straight through the Channel Tunnel. The concept blew my mind. For someone raised in Asia, the mere idea of crossing a physical border into another country on a normal train feels straight up sci-fi.

My window seat on Eurostar — Photo by Yvonne

I stared, glued to the window. Ironically, the famous Channel Tunnel turned out to be nothing but pitch-black darkness. Still, the underlying thrill of hurtling along deep beneath the ocean floor kept my inner geek incredibly excited.

The train traveled insanely fast. In just over two hours, I had officially swapped London for Paris. I braced myself for another round of customs and baggage checks when the train pulled in, but to my absolute surprise, we just walked right off the platform and straight out into the city streets. No wonder everyone chooses the train over flying. It saves so much hassle.

I stepped outside at 9:00 am. Immediately, a thick, suffocating wall of heat hit me square in the face, completely replacing any romantic notions of Paris with pure dread. The thermometer already teased the mid-30s. Terrified of how much worse the afternoon would get, I thanked my past self for using Trip.com to lock down a hostel just a 15-to-20-minute walk from the station.

Packing had been a breeze. Carrying just a single 20-liter backpack and a small crossbody bag because of the short summer trip, I found navigating the crowded streets incredibly easy, even when taking a spontaneous detour through a local market. I always prefer exploring on foot. Walking lets you sink into the actual rhythm of a city, helping you stumble upon hidden details you’d otherwise miss from a taxi window.

The hostel lobby felt like heaven. The air conditioning was pure bliss. Right then and there, I wanted nothing more than to park myself on their sofa and delete the rest of my itinerary. Contextually, it was only 10:00 AM, and since the staff couldn’t check me in until 3:00 PM, I asked if they could hold my luggage. They did it for free. Slipping that heavy 20-liter backpack off my shoulders felt like a true physical release, a little ritual signaling that I was finally ready to conquer Paris.

Montmartre was right around the corner. A quick 10-to-15-minute stroll brought me straight to the base of the hill, where I looked up and felt my jaw drop. Ahead of me stretched a flight of stairs so ridiculously steep it seemed to vanish into the sky. Standing under a blazing 40-degree sun, I had a brief internal crisis. Whatever, let’s call it cardio. I dug deep, forced my legs to move, and started climbing.

The stairs to Sacré-Cœur — Photos by Yvonne

Reaching the summit and watching the Sacré-Cœur Basilica frame the sprawling Parisian skyline made every single drop of sweat completely worth it.

The view of Paris & Sacré-Cœur — Photos by Yvonne

I needed a break. Collapsing onto a park bench shaded by massive trees at the bottom of the hill, I spent about half an hour cooling off while trying to figure out food. A quick Google Maps search pointed me toward a well-reviewed French restaurant nearby. Their menu featured a duck dish I’d been craving for weeks. That sealed the deal.

I left the park full of excitement. Because I had chosen the place on a whim, I didn’t have a reservation, forcing me to join the line outside. Luckily, the queue moved fast, and the host seated me in under five minutes. The place catered perfectly to tourists, offering digital menus in multiple languages through a quick table QR code scan. I ordered the egg salad, the duck leg with chips, a quarter-bottle of lemonade, and a shot of hot espresso to finish.

The duck leg with chips & eggs salad for my first day lunch — Photos by Yvonne

Then came a massive culture shock. Crucially, growing up in Asia means summer revolves around hiding indoors with the AC blasting, whether you’re at home, in a shopping mall, or sitting in a cafe. But during my days in France, I realized most restaurants and shops don’t offer air conditioning at all. Some don’t even own fans. Now I finally understand why Europeans obsess over dining outside; the stagnant, stifling heat inside those buildings can feel far worse than the open air. I spent that entire lunch literally dripping sweat into my food.

I quickly paid the bill. Walking out of there, I felt like I had just stepped out of a steaming hot shower, despite the food being spectacular. I checked the time. Finally, the clock said I could go check into my room. Braving the absolute peak of the fierce afternoon sun, I practically marched back to my air-conditioned oasis. Opening that hostel door and feeling the cool air hit my skin was a form of salvation. Words can’t describe the relief.

The weather outside was just too brutal. After checking in, I immediately crashed for a nap. Waking up in the middle of the night to catch my morning train had finally caught up with me, making the blistering afternoon the perfect time to log off.

That nap was pure gold. It wiped away all my exhaustion while keeping me safely indoors during the hours when the streets felt most like a furnace. By the time I opened my eyes around 4:00 or 5:00 PM, the sun was still blazing, but a faint, gentle breeze had finally picked up.

My battery was fully recharged. Grabbing my essentials, I headed out to experience my first Parisian evening, keeping my sights locked on the Eiffel Tower where I had plans to meet some friends later for a Seine boat cruise.

I exited the metro station. Clearing the edge of the surrounding buildings, the Eiffel Tower suddenly burst into my field of vision completely without warning. My heart skipped a beat. Even with the air still holding the leftover heat of the day, I couldn’t help but whisper to myself: Wow, I am actually in Paris.

The metro of Paris & Eiffel Tower — Photos by Yvonne

I took a million photos. Moving from angle to angle around the tower, I eventually wandered down to the banks of the Seine to find my group. Oddly enough, “internet friends” describes them much better. This was our first time ever meeting face-to-face, and doing it in Paris felt completely surreal. Fate works in mysterious ways. The riverbank was absolutely buzzing with people, and the breeze skimming across the moving water finally brought some long-awaited cooling relief. We lined up for the boat, chatting away as the sun finally began to dip below the horizon around 10:00 PM.

The boat started to glide. Passing the Musée d’Orsay, the Louvre, and Notre-Dame as they lit up one by one, I watched the city transform completely under the golden lights. The night gave them a vibe worlds away from their daytime look. People say Paris belongs to the night. They are absolutely right.

We looped back toward the tower. Right on the hour, the entire Eiffel Tower erupted into its iconic, sparkling light show. Watching thousands of white lights flash like diamonds against the dark sky, the 42-degree heat, the puddles of sweat, and those endless stairs simply melted away. The sheer romance of the moment cured everything.

The Eiffel Tower in the evening — Photo by Yvonne

I said goodbye to the group. Dragging my exhausted but incredibly happy body back to the hostel, I lay in bed and let the sheer density of the day wash over me. I had started my morning in London, ended my night catching breezes on the Seine, and survived a 40-degree oven and a blind meetup in between. My first day in Paris was hot enough to make me question my life choices. Thankfully, the night views made up for it beautifully.

The whole day finished when I got back to hostel — Photo by Yvonne

The romance peaked on day one. For my next story, I want to take you along to see the tipsier side of France — my day trip to a vineyard. Stay tuned!