I went to Paris in the onset of winter. I made two stoppages there on the same trip and it wasn’t enough. It is never enough. But for Paris it was especially true.
I didn’t see the Louvre or any of the museums, I didn’t go marvel at the Moulin Rouge , I didn’t see the interiors of the Notre Dame, I didn’t do any of that. But I took the metro, hung out the farmer’s market, stood in line for croissants for breakfast, bought a designer woollen sweater at half price , explored the arrondissements on foot, did expressos at street side bistros, nodded at the beautiful Parisian lady walking her dog while smoking a cigarette. I cried at the Pere Lachaise cemetery, flirted with a boy at a jazz bar at the Latin quarter, sat up with friends I made at the hostel till 2am , walked along the banks of Siena whilst the city lit up like a magical land, walked though the Christmas Market at Champs Elysees and went overboard with the mussels and Vin Chaud there. I watched the Eiffel Tower light up at the hour, enjoyed a warm cup of coffee at an overpriced café over looking the magnificent structure and got goose bumps. So cliché, but so beautiful!