Tennis Jules Ladoumègue: Blinded by the light

It has been the dullest of dull weeks - rain, drizzle, mist. The long, lingering golden autumn is well and truly over so there was no question of playing outdoors. It wasn’t even properly light as we left the apartment, the Christmas lights strung across the road reflecting in the wet pavement. Surely it’s too early for Christmas lights? It’s not even December - though I’ve already had an invitation to enter the Christmas social doubles at my old club in Ealing (still on the mailing list - I can’t bring myself to cut the links and my medal from last year's 
tournament still has pride of place)
Tennis Jules Ladoumègue is near the end of Metro line 5 at Porte de Pantin in the 19th arrondissement. In fact it lies beyond the Porte and the Péripherique which was completely jammed at that time in the morning reminding me, not for the first time, why we don’t need a car in Paris. The Parc de La Villette is across the road as you emerge from the metro, looking like a building site for the moment with construction of Paris Philharmonic’s new concert hall now well underway. Crossing lane after lane of traffic and the tramway we trudged under the elevated section of the Péripherique  (possibly one of the least elevating sights in Paris) effectively leaving the city.  A sign proudly announces that you are arriving in Saint Denis - winner of a Ville Fleurie prize, the equivalent of Britain in Bloom, though looking at the grim, urban surroundings there was not a leaf or a petal to be seen - I’d hate to see who was runner-up. 
Eventually we arrived at the enormous Stade Jules Ladoumègue. This facility is on an entirely different scale from anything we have seen before - a running track with stands, an  indoor basketball arena, rugby pitches, football pitches, outdoor basketball courts, outdoor tennis courts and, after a long walk from reception, the long strip of indoor courts. Everything is beautifully landscaped and well-maintained. A man with a leaf blower was blowing the leaves off the athletics track. This is not in a beautiful part of Paris, but the staff take a great pride in their lovely sports ground. 

The indoor courts are in a long modern box, with sliding doors giving access to each of the five courts. They are laid end to end rather than side by side which made me feel as if I was playing in a long hall of mirrors reflecting an infinite number of courts.  This was my least favourite court so far.  The building felt like a narrow aircraft hanger with a landing strip of dazzling lights on the ceiling. The court was a pale grey, hard concrete which combined with the greyish netting at either end dividing the adjoining courts made it difficult to see the ball. Every time I Iooked up to return an overhead shot I was dazzled by the lights.
The two men who were on court before us got changed by the side of the court and then sat on a bench to watch (guaranteed to make me fluff my shots). The final straw was when a huge spider crawled across the court, a harbinger of doom.  I lost - for the first time since arriving Paris.

Tennis Jules Ladoumègue
1 Avenue de la Porte de Pantin
75019 Paris

Tennis Carnot: Playing with the roof on

The weather has turned and it has been pouring with rain so inspired by the ATP Masters at the O2 in London I decided to book an indoor court. Roger Federer pulled out with a back injury and I almost pulled out with a shopping trolley-induced injury of my right forearm after weeks of shopping à la Parisienne in the local markets and then lugging my groceries upstairs. But I was so delighted that rain needn't stop play with numerous covered courts to choose from that I decided to ignore any twinges and cheer myself up with a game of tennis.

Boulevard Carnot is another distant outpost, this time at the Porte de Vincennes in the 12th arrondissement - supposedly one of the smarter edges of the city, but when we popped up from the Metro alongside the the six-lane Cours de Vincennes, with the trams running down one side of the road and with tower after tower of box like apartments, it reminded me more of parts of east Berlin than the city of light. The weather didn't help of course - nowhere looks its best in grey drizzle. We headed away from the city and found Boulevard Carnot running parallel with Péripherique. 

There were several covered courts - two of which had open sides like a cattle market with a tent-like roof. We were on court 3 which was entirely enclosed in a huge dome - something between a marquee and a greenhouse - which reminded me of the great pavilion at the Chelsea Flower Show but without the plants.

The entrance was like a primitive decompression chamber with strict instruction not to open the second door until the first door was firmly closed (otherwise it slammed so violently it sounded like a gun going off which happened when two Frenchmen tried to venture inside in the middle of a vital point).

 Inside it was vast - the markings on the court showed it doubled as an indoor football pitch when the tennis net was not in place. There was also a splendid echo which gave a new incentive to shout out the score after every point.

The court surface was a hard synthetic - which surprised me after the astro-turf carpets on outdoor courts we have played on - and my favourite surface so far. It really suited my game and for once I felt I had enough time to get to all the balls (or maybe I was just running faster with no wind resistance indoors!)

An indoor court is nearly twice the price of an outdoor one at €14.50  an hour, but we arrived a full 15 minutes early and got straight on court so I felt we got our money's worth and great to know we can still get a game even if it's pouring - finally an advantage over Ealing!

 Tennis Carnot

26 Boulevard Carnot

75012 Paris

Tennis Louis Lumière: La vie en rose

Another sunny day and my husband - and tennis partner - had an unexpected day off. What better way to make the most of Paris than by organising another game of tennis! We booked at the last minute and with only an hour to go it was more a question of what was still available rather than carefully choosing where we wanted to play. We decided to take pot luck.  
Louis Lumière in the 20th arrondissement is on the edge of the city, close to the Péripherique at Porte de Bagnolet. We arrived by metro, crossed the tramway which now circles Paris -  a recent addition which has had the effect of smartening up the outer fringes of the city - and quickly found what we thought was the court we had booked in rue Louis Lumière. It was part of an impressive sports ground with an immaculate running track, football pitches and basketball courts, but after showing our ID at passport control reception we were told that we were in the wrong place - these were the Bagnolet courts, Louis Lumiere was further along the road.
Two minutes walk away we found what we were looking for - another equally impressive sports ground with running track, athletics field and football pitches. At home in London you'd be delighted to have such fabulous facilities in your neighbourhood and lucky to have a centre like this in your borough - here were two within a stones throw of each other and, if athletics is your thing, you could use them for free. A school group was just leaving as we arrived. 
The tennis courts were a bit of afterthought here and were less well-maintained than we have become used to with a slight covering of moss in the shady corners and a fresh fall of leaves around the edges for our balls to disappear into. The court surface was constructed in sections - rather like an old motorway (or indeed the Péripherique which was just on the other side of a wall) - criss-crossed with a series of cracks which would occasionally send a ball awry adding a new element to my game. But it was a beautiful, sunny late autumn day and there were roses in bloom along one edge of the court with only the roar of the traffic to remind you that you were in fact in one of the less lovely parts of Paris. Not a great court, but a great game nonetheless. 

Louis Lumière
30 Rue Louis Lumière
75020 Paris

Tennis Candie: Somebody's watching me

It has been a glorious autumn in Paris this year. The city was glowing in the autumn sunshine and my roof garden was still in full bloom so naturally my thoughts turned to tennis. I had also strolled up the boulevard to République to treat myself to some new sports gear from Go Sport so I was keen to get out there and try another court.
I think I may need to start booking ahead if I want to get a game in the swanky surroundings of the Luxembourg Gardens, but there is a lot to be said for playing closer to home - I'm used to being able to walk to my tennis sessions, in fact I consider the walk part of the warm-up so I'm ready to play as soon as I arrive.
Not far from Bastille, just off the bustling Rue du Faubourg St Antoine, Tennis Candie dominates the road from which it takes its name. It is an ugly 1970s carbuncle of a sports centre. As we arrived hordes of French schoolchildren were pouring out of the door after a sports lesson on the indoor basketball courts housed in a subterranean sports hall on the same site. We were playing at 10am so we got in for the bargain price of €4.50 instead of the €7.50 we paid previously. This time I had my passport to hand and swanned straight through passport control towards the courts at the back.
First impressions were not great - the entrance resembled nothing so much as the exercise yard at Alcatraz - a grim, concrete enclosure marked out with a few sad running lanes - hardly designed to lift the heart and unlikely to persuade anyone to take up athletics. Undaunted we pressed on up a concrete staircase and out on to court 1 which is surrounded by modern apartment blocks. Hitchcock could have filmed his movie Rear Window here. We could see a tailor busily at work in his atelier and residents could also watch us as they leaned out of the windows to smoke a crafty cigarette - guaranteed to put me off my stroke (any excuse).
The court itself was impossible to fault - immaculately maintained and with a close-cut astroturf surface which always makes me think I am playing in a greengrocer's shop window. There was also a brand new net, set to the correct height (I checked with my Queen's Club chain). There is a second court up a staircase on the other side of the changing rooms so you feel as though you have the place to yourself whichever court you play on. Our only visitor was a ginger cat who stalked the perimeter fence as we played.
There were showers and changing rooms for each court - following the Alcatraz theme so not luxurious - but certainly more than you'd get at most municipal courts in Britain and they served the purpose for my husband who needed to dash straight off to work after his game while I strolled to Bastille for a coffee and then home.

Tennis Candie
11 Rue de Candie, 75011, Paris

Tennis Philippe Auguste: Don't forget your passport

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. 

Tennis Philippe Auguste
108 Avenue Philippe Auguste, 75011, Paris

Au revoir Ealing, bonjour Paris

When I left London earlier this year to move to Paris I knew that the thing I would miss most would be my lovely tennis club in Ealing. My Monday mornings with the ladies were the perfect way to start the week and an hour on court on any other day  was the perfect pick-me-up. I cried when I left and they presented me with a fabulous new racket to take to Paris  and my long-suffering doubles partner Charlotte gave me a net-measuring chain from Queen's Club as I never lost the opportunity to protest that the net was too high or too low (and I was usually right!)

Living in the centre of Paris in the 11th arrondissement I knew it would be difficult to find a club. I took to approaching complete strangers carrying tennis rackets in the street or on the Metro and asking where they played. Eventually I realised that Paris was not so much full of tennis clubs as full of tennis courts - dotted about the city and often hidden from view. All you had to do was register with the Mairie (because the French love nothing so much a bit of administration)  - a process which was free - and then you could go on line and book any of the courts on a first-come-first-served basis and pay when you played. 

And so I decided I'd abandon my search for a club - I'd never find one to compare with Ealing anyway - I wanted to play for fun and to keep fit. Instead I challenged myself and my husband to try out every court in Paris - a tennis tour of Paris.