I was full of excitement at the prospect of my first foray on to a French tennis court. The only public courts I could remember seeing in Paris were at the Jardin du Luxembourg or the Jardin Atlantique above Montparnasse station. For our first game we had opted for something closer to home, but I had high hopes of a glamorous Paris location so I was slightly disappointed to find myself on a busy boulevard on the far fringes of the 11th arrondissement - though the famous Père Lachaise cemetery is just at the end of the street. We found ourselves in front of an unpromising-looking municipal building with a blue sign above the entrance which read Terrain d'Education Physique. There was nothing to suggest tennis and the door was locked when we arrived so we had to rattle it until a city of Paris employee let us in. The website had advised arriving 15 minutes beforehand and we soon found out why as we began the long payment process - cash only and the exact sum at that as there was no change. You have to take proof of identity to secure the booking - the French all have national identity cards so this is par for the course. I had rather optimistically thought my European driving licence complete with photo would do the trick. The man behind the counter had other ideas, he scrutinised it from every angle as if it were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. He had no idea what it was, but eventually agreed to accept it, and suggested we take passports next time (surely an essential part of any tennis kit!). We were directed down a long tiled corridor, past rows of changing rooms until we came to a door at the far end and emerged into a rose-filled courtyard where we followed a winding path on to the sunlit tennis court. It was surrounded on all sides by apartment blocks which formed a huge grandstand around the single court. The court surface, described on the website as synthetic, was in fact a fine astroturf like a carpet which if you didn't look too closely you might mistake for grass. I was dying to play, but first we had to wait for two Frenchmen to finish their hour. A practice wall had been thoughtfully provided in a separate area at the back of the court so we had a good warm up while we waited and by the time our turn came we were ready to play. The carpet-like surface took a little getting used to, but it was beautifully even and not at all slippy. As we played I fantasised about living in one of the apartments overlooking the court, thinking how much I'd enjoy looking out on to a tennis court - sipping a coffee and seeing who was playing, perhaps settling a disputed line call from the window. The court at Philippe Auguste may not be in a top tourist spot, but it is a lovely oasis of calm in the bustle of the city and playing there you do have the sensation of having the place entirely to yourself.
108 Avenue Philippe Auguste, 75011, Paris
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