I visited Paris twice. The first time I was a college student, my parents bought me a ticket after a bad breakup. It was their way of getting my mind off the breakup and on to something interesting. It worked, only by the time the trip came up I already had a new boyfriend.
I went with a friend, she was much younger than me but that
did not stop us from ordering wine with oysters at dinner. We felt very
sophisticated and Parisian, sitting in a tiny restaurant eating plates of tiny
oysters and drinking a glass of wine. We walked everywhere, the city is quite
easy to navigate on foot thanks to Eiffel Tower that one can use as a guiding
beacon. We climbed to the first level of Eiffel Tower (stairs all the way),
discovering in the process that both were afraid of heights. The trip down was
a very slow one, clutching each other in a death grip. I opted for Musee D’Orsay
instead of the Louvre, and found Degas pastels are rather quite small and are
kept in a very dark room. Studying them previously in art history, I just
assumed that they were much bigger, and the discovery of their actual size was
a disappointing moment. But I got over it eventually. I loved the museum
overall, it’s an old railway station and best part is to just sit on a bench
and take in the entire space – it is breathtaking.
I discovered my passion for interior design on that trip.
The credit really should go to a Sorbonne student that lived in our hostel (it
was next to Sorbonne and some students lived there full time). Her room was on
the same floor as ours, and I was able to briefly peek inside one day. The
little hostel room was decorated with framed (yes, framed) posters, bright
textiles, and there was not a plastic milk crate insight. I was floored – this
was a student’s room? Of course I had to redecorate my dorm room (frames and
all) as soon as I returned stateside. And I have not stopped ever since.
My second trip to Paris was with my husband (see “new
boyfriend” above). We went in February. First we spent a couple of days in
London, then took Eurostar to Paris (make sure you bring both British Pounds
and Euros with you, the restaurant switches currencies when you cross the
border while in the Chunnel). Even though it’s been several years between my
visits, the city felt instantly familiar. I was able to navigate through it
with ease, all the streets came back to me. It felt like home. This time we did
visit the Louvre, even saw the Mona Lisa (also a lot smaller than imagined, and
encased in bulletproof and UV-proof glass so you can’t see that much of her).
We walked around the city with a baguette in our hands, just watching Parisian
life. We never stayed out late to see
the Parisian lights, we were too tired from all the walking. It drizzled the
entire time we were there, but it was warm, so it wasn’t too bad. We discovered
a tiny and absolutely charming restaurant, we don’t remember the name but
pretty sure we can find it again if we just retrace our steps. It was so tiny
that the kitchen was downstairs and they used a dumbwaiter to bring up the food,
and you really got to know your fellow diners. But that’s a post all on its
own, perhaps next time.
I find the French welcoming, friendly, funny, a bit forward,
quirky, rightfully set in their ways, and always chic. From the moment I got
off the plane the first time, Paris felt like home. I cannot wait to return and
share it with Danny, I’m sure he’ll fall in love as much as I have.
Je Suis Charlie.