Turns out, you don't need to jet off to some far-flung paradise that sounds like a bad case of gingivitis to find decent golf. Who knew? Paris, of all places. The city of romance and those guys who play accordions until you want to throw your baguette at them, apparently also has golf courses. And not just any courses, but the kind that apparently get golf nerds all hot and bothered. We’re talking six in the top 100 in Europe, tucked away in the suburbs like forgotten secrets. Groundbreaking stuff.
They’ve even tried to jazz it up with talk of "early-twentieth-century architects" and "sandy forests." Fancy talk for "old trees and dirt, probably." But the real showstopper is Le Golf National. This is where the Ryder Cup happened, remember? The one where the Europeans actually managed to win for a change back in 2018. Then it hosted the Olympics. Because, apparently, there's always room to whack a little white ball between the synchronized swimming and the equestrian events. It’s the only place to have hosted both, so it’s very important.
Now, this Albatros course, the famous one, has been shut down tighter than a drum since October 2024. The reason? "Grand Paris Express," a new metro line. Because digging holes underground is clearly more pressing than your Saturday morning tee time. They're messing with holes 4 through 6, and fiddling with the greens and edges of a bunch of others. The whole shebang is supposed to be fixed by September 1, 2026, just in time for, you guessed it, the French Open. Because nothing screams "renovation complete" like immediately hosting a professional tournament.
Think of it as their way of adding a little je ne sais quoi to your round. A dash of construction dust to go with your meticulously manicured fairways. They promise Scottie Scheffler and Lydia Ko won the Olympics there. Which is nice. Probably wasn't as nail-biting as watching Europe somehow blow a 10-point lead, but hey, it's Olympic golf. Even the golf establishment admits its own peculiar brand of excitement.
If you're craving a golf trip that doesn't involve a soul-crushing seven-hour flight and the existential dread of a time-share pitch, maybe Paris is your jam. Just try not to think about the metro digging while you're desperately searching the rough for your Titleist. Or about how much taxpayer money went into this whole operation. It's golf. What did you expect? A functioning metro line that drops you right at the clubhouse? Don't be absurd.