After a quick plane ride, an hour and a half shuttle bus from the airport to the metro, and a metro ride to our hostel, we arrived in Paris late Monday night. We were tired and hungry, and with it being too late to go out we instead walked down the block and bought our first Nutella crepe, drizzled in powdered sugar and coco powder. I am already a huge crepe enthusiast, so to take that first bite was a moment to be treasured. The next morning we awoke early and enjoyed our free breakfast of croissants and baguettes from the hostel and hopped on the metro toward the Arc de Triomphe. Much bigger than I ever anticipated and standing in the center of the Place Charles de Gaulle surrounded by circling cars, the Arc is a tribute to those who fought and died for France in the French Revolutionary and the Napoleonic Wars. Its inscriptions are incredibly intricate and its carvings gorgeous, and on the basis of art alone, not to mention architecture, it is spectacular. As we left the Arc and made our way down the Champs-Élyssées, we stumbled upon the aftermath of the Chanel fashion show as a part of Paris’ Fashion Week. Surrounded by models, photographers, and men and women dressed in their best with their Chanel gift bags, we did not exactly blend in. Yet we could not pass up the opportunity to watch for a bit, and observed the glamour that follows such a crowd. Eventually we tore ourselves away and made our way to La Tour Eiffel. There is nothing as breathtaking as finding yourself in front of something you have dreamed about for years. I felt the same way when I stumbled upon La Fontana di Trevi and the Colosseum, and walking up to La Tour Eiffel was a moment of indescribable awe. It was a beautiful sunny day, and with our purchases of sandwiches and éclairs in hand, we warmed ourselves on the lawn under the immensity of the monument. Nothing could have summed up my vision of Paris as well as that moment did.
That night my friend Katie and I met up with our friend Lauren, who was in Paris to mark the beginning of her twenty-first birthday. We ate dinner and followed it up with a dessert of Crème brûlée and a walk back to La Tour Eiffel just in time to see it light up at midnight, helping her ring in her birthday in the best possible way. It was the perfect night, where the lights cast a glow throughout the crisp night air and settled on the lawn where we absorbed the night. The following morning was another early one occupied by a walk to the Basilique du Sacré-Coeur (also known as the Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Paris) located at the highest point in Paris, the summit of the butte Montmartre. Only about a ten-minute walk from our hostel, the Sacré-Coeur was incredible –– high domed ceilings, stained glass windows, and mosaics made up only a part of its impressive architecture. Yet the most spectacular feature of the Basilica is its location, where you can walk out the front doors and have a view of the entire city. Though it was a slightly foggy day, the view was still incredibly clear and the expanse of Paris lay before us. From there we trekked back to La Tour Eiffel for a lunch of baguettes, cheese, and pastries and a walk to Notre Dame. One of the most impressive churches I have seen thus far (and I have seen a lot), Notre Dame was dimly lit, shimmering with the glow of candles and the colored light through its stained glass windows. It is an immense church, and there is a reportedly a thirty year waiting list to hold your wedding there, if you are lucky enough to be able to afford it, something that I thought only seemed intimidating. From Notre Dame we ventured across the Seine and into the Quartier Latin, which instantly became my favorite place in Paris. A mesh of shops and restaurants, the Quartier Latin had the aura of an artistic community made up of a blending of cultures. I only wish we had left more time to explore, but from the small taste I had I knew I would love it.
With one last Nutella crepe, our final view of the sparkling Tour Eiffel, and a brief visit to the Moulin Rouge, we headed back to the hostel to pack and rest before our early morning flight home. My plane was delayed (it was coming from Italy, so it was only to be expected), but there was nothing as welcoming as stepping off the plane onto the sizzling airport concrete under the warm Roman sun. With each trip away I realize even more how much Rome has become a part of me. It is feminine, as John Berger said, in a nurturing yet raw and authentic sort of way. Paris is filled with lights and romance and is undoubtedly somewhere I want to acquaint myself with over and over again, but a traveler always wants to return home eventually, and for now that home for me is Rome. It may be temporary, but at the end of all of this it will stay with me so much longer.
Street crepes |
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