What’s the worst thing about the best-visited city in the best-visited country in the world? Yes, you guessed it - visitors. Welcome to Paris. Welcome to the city of eternal light, to the city of eternal tourism. Welcome, along with 50 million other visitors, too. Who was it said Hell is other people? Oh, yes, it was that existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, and guess where he came from? Yep. Paris. Crowds, traffic, expensive, and crown jewel robberies. It’s everything you don’t need from your sojourn to the Île-de-France. But it doesn’t have to be like that.

 

What if I told you about the best places in the best city in the most visited country in the world, where none of the visitors have yet to discover? And that best city is a city that hardly anyone realises is a city at all? Welcome to the other arrondissement that isn’t an arrondissement. A place where even Parisians are visitors. Welcome to Saint-Denis.

 

Here's the thing. Easy to get to from Charles de Gaulle - so flying is an option. Easy to get to from Gare du Nord - so training is an option. It’s outside the Périphérique - so coaching is an option too. In fact, we’re about 500m from the Seine, so boating shouldn’t be a problem either. This is the city that no one knows about. Over a million people live here. It’s got everything Paris has, except the hassle.

 

Now, before you go all banlieue on my ass, you need to know that St Denis is not the St Denis your parole officer told you about. Historic, cultural, modern and multicultural, and more French than France. For starters, you can get to Paris in a matter of minutes - but why would you want to? There’s an Algerian French cafe to the left, an Indonesian French cafe to the right, and a French French cafe next door to each of them. In fact, the only not-French thing is the hotel general manager, Stig, and he speaks French.

 

From the upper floors of the very un-Parisian Playel Tower, home to H4 Wyndham’s Playel Resort, it’s possible to see that other very un-Parisian multi-storey, the Tour Montparnasse. Unlike London, and an atlas-full of other cities, Paris has kept its skyline distinctly low-rise - and that’s just fine. Bracketed between the Playel Tower to the north and its mirror image Tour Montparnasse to the south, Saint-Denis and its lesser-known cousin (Paris) are laid out below. From a city-side room (ask for one), you can see the Bois de Vincennes, Sacré-Cœur, and the Eiffel Tower. Greenery, Godlery and Gothicy all in one view.

 

Spread out under ever-changing skies, you can see Eurostar glide silently towards its Gallic destination. You can’t see the metro - because it's underground - duh - but laid out in front is the biggest station on the network - opened just for you. Well, you and everyone else who visited the Olympics. That’s the St Denis Olympics of 2024. You may know them as the Paris Games, but the action was right here, in St Denis. A walk across the Olympic Bridge, spanning the forty tracks of the SNCF, and you’ll be in the Aquatics Centre and a jog from the Stade de France. A Six Nations runout with Les Bleus, anyone?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arrival and Aperitif: up in the clouds

 

Forty floors up. Begin from the Skybar at H4 Wyndham’s Playel Resort. It’s as high as it gets in the Île-de-France, but it’s far from downhill from here.

 

Friday arrival, and the doors of the H4 Hotel resort swing open like a gateway into a city that hasn’t quite been discovered yet. You can smell ambition in the air. Not just the ambition of Saint-Denis itself, but of the building looming above you — a 40-story tower completed in 1973, the westernmost of a planned quartet that never quite made it beyond the economic downturn. Once home to the Paris headquarters of Siemens (note to the tech giants: it’s Saint-Denis, not Paris), it was left abandoned as the 20th century drew to a close. The building was a sleeping giant. The 21st-century renovations stripped out the asbestos, polished the glass, and planted the first French flag of the German H Hotels Group in the country.

 

Inside, the hotel is both homage and innovation. Each of the 700 bedrooms features a door adorned with a famous composer who once tickled the keys of a Les Pleyel piano. Yes, that Le Playel, the same company whose factory once stood beneath the hotel restaurant, where lunch is a coda to history. The tables sit on what was once the factory floor, where craftsmen built pianos destined to fill concert halls. The echo of a Chopin prelude is the dexterous deminutions of the kitchen, where a segued selection of French standards are rolled out with all the alacrity of the Polish pianist who made Paris his home.

 

After settling in, we embarked on a tour of the corporate side of the H4 Wyndham’s Playel Resort. Grand public spaces, conference halls, and the sleek 21st-century conference centre are all ticked off by the group and event organisers. The rest of us just marvel at the uniquely idiosyncratic elevator system, which just shrugs at your choice of floor with an entirely French disregard to your puzzlement (it’s a hangover from the corporate days - being addressed).

 

By 17:00, we were at France’s highest pool for a sunset swim. The exertion is optional, but highly recommended for both the view and the ego boost of pretending you own the Île-de-France for an hour.

 

The evening continued at The Stage Skybar, the novelty not exhausted of being 40 floors above the streets of Saint-Denis, where the lights of Paris and the shimmering Seine extend endlessly. First night dinner at Le Pleyel followed, a refined mix of modern cuisine and local history. The restaurant, now configured for a more formal evening, serves foie gras (and much more besides) alongside views of the Olympic Village, just beyond the Allée de Seine, connecting the area to the river in the west and to the Stade de France in the east.

 

Saturday: Flea Markets, Cinematic past, present and future, and some Gothic grandeur

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Morning arrives in Saint-Denis not with the roar of traffic but with the quiet hum of a community in motion - except when an exuberant Algerian wedding party noisily parades by. Breakfast at Le Chopin is unpretentious, busy, and French. An international buffet to suit an international clientele, and coffee strong enough to make you think your arteries are patriotic.

 

By 09:30, we were met in the lobby by Emmanuel Blum, Directeur Général at the Agence d'Attractivité de Plaine Commune. Why say tourism manager when you can use a paragraph - it’s the French way. His title is longer than the short journey to the Saint-Ouen quarter. Here, the Tourism Office is both functional and charming, tucked beside the sprawling Saint-Denis flea market — the largest in the world, don’t let anyone tell you differently. Outside the office, a 10-metre-high model of the Eiffel Tower stands proudly, a hint of whimsy to mark the entrance to a true treasure trove.

 

Guided by Valeria, we entered the flea market itself. Seven hectares of interconnected markets, 14 in total, each with its own personality. Saint-Denis, Valeria reminded us, is a separate community from Paris proper. OK - we get the whole “not Paris” thing, but here are the numbers. Over one million residents, young, dynamic, dense, diverse, and thriving — the area beyond the Boulevard Périphérique, the road that so conveniently demarcates Paris from the real world. Sounds so much nicer than the North Circular, doesn’t it?

 

We turn our backs on a traffic-laden concrete monolith that does a passable impression of the Aston Expressway, and slip effortlessly into a market that feels like a living museum. Every stall has a story. You can buy antique jewellery at Byron Market, see a spaceship-inspired mobile studio designed by Swiss architect Furro, or simply watch the movement of five million visitors a year. For perspective, that’s a dance of humanity quietly eclipsing the footfall of Versailles.

 

The flea market is remarkably calm despite its size. The occasional hawker’s call is friendly rather than aggressive, and 150,000 second-hand books live in one sprawling shop that feels like a French Whitechapel. Here, Saint-Denis’ history is tangible. Former factories, Mulliér stone homes, and the ebb and flow of generations still working the crafts and retail within the market. Recycling, repurposing, reinvention — all of it in full display.

 

Lunch at Paname Brewery Company offered a change of pace: craft beer brewed on-site, temperature carefully controlled, and Calvados bottled legally outside its native region. It’s chilly, yes, but the convivial atmosphere and the chance to see the brewing process close-up more than compensate. The brewery is just a short walk from H4, bridging the old industrial Saint-Denis with the new, cultural heart of the commune (don’t forget, it’s not a Parisian arrondissement).

 

By 13:30, we were crossing the Pleyel urban overpass into the Académie Fratellini - an evolving centre for circus performance (evolving into an events space as well) and then on to the Cité du Cinéma, housed in a former train maintenance shed. That’s an unpoetic way of describing this vast barrel-roofed edifice. It’s a bit like St Pancras without the trains or the John Betjamin statue (is it just me or is the famous poet’s statue just a bit like Paddington Bear?). The architecture is striking, designed by a Japanese architect to span over 40 railway tracks, connecting directly to the Olympic Village. Once a power station for the Metro, the Cité du Cinéma now hosts private screenings in its 400-seat theatre and is a hub for cultural development in Saint-Denis. It’s yet to take off commercially, but with the backing of French national treasure Luc Besson, it has an energetic patron (the film-maker, who also looks a bit like Paddington Bear imho).

 

A quick stop at the Olympic Rings on the bridge (obligatory photocall) reminded us of the 2024 Games. The apartments in the village, now sold to private owners, gleam in the afternoon sun, a symbol of transformation. Saint-Denis is not just a bedroom for Paris; it’s a city of its own, evolving, vibrant, and unapologetically modern.

 

By 16:00, it was time to dash for a splash at the Centre Aquatique Olympique Métropole du Grand Paris, an Olympic-standard pool that somehow feels intimate, a rarity in an area built for tens of thousands. A brisk swim, a shower, and then we were off to the Basilique Saint-Denis - a much more relaxed visit than the queues at Notre Dame.

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The Basilica is Gothic grandeur personified. First of its kind, a crucible of architectural revolution, resting place to over 70 French kings, still a place of worship, astonishingly under visited. Within, light pours through stained glass windows onto polished marble floors, and you can see Saint-Denis depicted holding his own head — a reminder of martyrdom and miraculous legend. No spoilers - you’ll need to visit. Adjacent is the Fabrique de la Flèche, where craftsmen restore stone and sculpture for the cathedral. Credit where it’s due: over-subscribed funds from Notre Dame’s fire have flowed here, and you can see the meticulous work of artisans in progress.

 

Dinner that evening at O’Grand Breton was a delight. Chalkboard menus, seasonal ingredients, family-run warmth - and the British connection is maintained by the matron of the house, domiciled here, all the way from Essex by way of a French spouse. Just five minutes from the Basilica and splendid town hall, and ten from the Stade de France. It’s a reminder that Saint-Denis offers French cuisine with a sense of place: local, hospitable, and without the glare of tourist traps.

 

Sunday: A Parisian Pilgrimage, Saint-Denis Style

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Breakfast again at Le Chopin, but this time we keep our appetites in check, preparing us for an early migration to Paris. By 08:00, we were on the Metro, a short, serene ride compared to the crowds that would soon descend on the capital.

 

The morning was devoted to a croissant-making class at Maison Fleuret, a jewel in the heart of the 7th arrondissement. Pastry chefs instructed with patience and precision, teaching the techniques and secrets of flaky, golden perfection. The experience is both hands-on and intimate, a taste of Parisian culture that is tactile, aromatic, and deliciously memorable. Yes, we do leave with bags of croissants which we made - and, remarkably, are eminently edible.

 

Lunch required a short stroll across the Seine, an exercise in both geography and humility. Tick off all the sights: Musée d’Orsay, Pont Neuf, Île de la Cité and some gothic cathedral or other, and the Louvre. This is central Paris, after all. A brasserie bite in the 1st Arrondissement and a few hours at leisure allows an exploration. Five quick, low-cost highlights:

 

1. Jardin des Tuileries – a breath of green between museums.

2. Pont des Arts – for a quiet riverside stroll and Instagram, if you must.

3. Place Vendôme – for window-shopping luxury you can admire but not afford.

4.Rue Saint-Honoré – a brief wander past boutique façades and fragrant bakeries.

5.The Seine quays – to watch the boats glide silently, reminding you that Paris’ beauty

is in motion as much as in architecture.

 

A more exerting enterprise is a proper pilgrimage option. Make out for Montmartre and Sacré-Cœur. Climb the steps, in the company of half the population of France, to admire the panorama, and remember that you are seeing Paris at its most Instagrammable (hence the massive crowds). After a weekend in Saint-Denis, the calm, diversity, and authenticity of the commune leave the tourist-packed hills feeling somewhat theatrical. Oh, and there is the not insignificant presence of Sacré-Cœur, that other great cathedral of Paris.

 

Why Saint-Denis Wins

 

From Skybar aperitifs to flea market marvels, from Olympic architecture to Gothic cathedrals, Saint-Denis is a city that neighbours Paris, yet remains defiantly its own. It is a place of contrasts: history and modernity, local life and global events, music, cinema, sport, and gastronomy. You can go to Paris in a matter of minutes, yet you often find yourself longing to return to Saint-Denis, where the streets are real, the people are real, and the city hums with its own rhythm. It’s a French Salford to Paris’s Manchester - and that’s a good thing. In Saint-Denis, you can sip your drink above the skyline or below the pavement line, wander streets centuries old or so young the builders have just packed up their tools, browse in arguably the largest flea markets in the world, swim in Olympic-standard pools, or cruise along cultured canals, and still feel like you’ve discovered something wholly private, quietly extraordinary, and unapologetically French. Just don’t forget — it’s not an arrondissement; it’s a commune all of its own.