France - 2022

When I got to Paris, in 2022, I was determined to do two things: 1, not walk a million steps a day, and actually relax. Don’t do the thing I always do where I walk everywhere everyday without stopping and end up being more tired after my ‘vacation’ than I was when I originally departed. 2, have a romantic kiss on the Seine.

As far as goal number 1, let’s just say… I decided to try again next time. Now #2… consider that box ticked.

I stayed in a hostel, in a co-ed room with 11 other people and 1 shared bathroom. After that experience, I firmly believe that people who knowingly snore like a grizzly bear suffering from sleep apnea, who books a bunk in a room with a dozen strangers deserves jail time. Its the strongest argument for the death penalty I’ve personally heard. Anyway, who cares about cramped quarters when you spend all of your time exploring! NOT ME.

What I love about these European major cities is just how beautiful things are. How easy it is to stumble across architectural features that make you feel like the protagonist in a Jane Austen novel. America feels so ugly and utilitarian in comparison. Where’s the CHARM? Where are the fountains? The cafes? TELL ME.

The ease at which I find myself stumbling across carved marble features older than my entire country is the reason I can’t help but wear my feet to the bone. I simply cannot help myself. Because of this fatal flaw, I stumbled across the best friend of any cheap hostel-hopping american who doesn’t mind walking absolutely everywhere: Guruwalk.

I do this in every city I can, usually on the first day of arrival. It's about 1-2 hours, and a free guided tour that I usually allow to set the remainder of my travel/eating schedule for the city. Guruwalk is such a great hack and you will hear me talking about these in other posts.

The walk through rainy, romantic Paris, with my 2€ umbrella, chunky camera, and bright yellow fjall raven backpack. The tell tale signs of all American tourists. Of course some of the stares, and pickpockets gravitate towards our little group. At least this isn’t my first rodeo. (Never been pickpocketed, not to brag. I have forgotten plenty of stuff on a bus, so I really shouldn’t be talking)

Eiffel Tower

She does really add something to the horizon. Having that beautiful sparkling point in the distance when the sun is setting is truly magical. Makes me feel like I could work in a michelin level restaurant with a rat calling the shots. I asked a stranger to take a picture of me next to the Seine with a sparkling tower and sunsetted sky in the background. I shit you not, he zoomed so far in on JUST my face. Not even hair. Just grainy awkward strained smile of an unsuspecting tourist.

Monte Marte

My favorite part of Paris. Filled with artists, people offering to draw your portrait, stands slinging Stella Artois on the stairs of the all impressive white rounded steeples, and a true celebrity encounter, the accordion player with the cat who sits on top while he plays. Thrilling. The subway station felt like thousands of steps, bright tile and murals beckon you up the seemingly endless stairwell. What an incredible view. The best skyline view of Paris I was lucky enough to breath in, along with plenty of cigarette smoke and smog. I picked up a tiny pack of olives, cheese, and bread. So peasant-chic. A man, one of the close proximity origins of the Marlboro-nimbus clouds, asked me if I wanted to get a coffee, while I was already holding one. I almost swooned.

The Lourve

If you have an appreciation of art, you’ll need at least 4 hours. More. Plan a lunch. Just take a day. There are secret entrances, so you can get in fast if you are willing to skip the pyramid. Due to a cute breakfast cafe and croissant (it was an emergency), I missed my pyramid window, but did not have any bit of a delay.

The statue room. Ugh. Amazing. So beautiful. The way that people can make majestic flowing hair and fabric from stone. I will never ever get over it. As far as the Mona Lisa, I am more of a Monet fan, no shade to her. She was mysterious, that little smile. Like she is in on a joke and shyly waiting for you to catch up. The other side of her room is the most enormous painting I’ve ever seen. Literally covered a wall. It was incredible. Dwarfing any work of art I’ve ever seen, aside from a building or mother earth.

Market - forget the trinkets, except maybe the cheese and snacks, but the fountain is beautiful. Oh and so is the crepe stand near by.

Notre Dam - I was in Europe in 2018 and had a chance to visit. I didn’t take it. It burned down the next year. Dammit. Notre Dam was still stunning, covered in construction blemishes, scaffolding, and temporary walls. Missing the chance to see her pristine (well, as pristine as something that has burned down like 5 times can be) was disappointing, but Portugal…. Well worth it.

This was the hot spot for our friends with the clip boards. While they are an annoyance, I wish them fairer winds.

Art House - A very cool, Parisian feeling thing I stumbled upon. Doesn’t it just make you want to paint some walls? Free to enter, donations suggested.

The Seine

I was hopelessly lost in the subway, frustrating because I’d done really quite well thus far. And then, my prince charming, my knight in shining armor. A really sexy frenchmen in a beautiful grey coat and dark seductive eyelashes, showed me the right train, but suddenly, a train wasn’t really what I was looking for.

Despite all the rats running along the river canals at night, it's really quite romantic.

Last but certainly not least - Palace de Versailles

When you buy the wrong stupid little train stub, or lose it and can’t get back out of the station (KEEP YOUR DUMB LITTLE TICKETS) ask a man. This is the very sound advice given to me following an especially confounding 35€ fine for buying a ticket to the wrong station (Port de Versaille, not the City of Versaille, my fucking bad, no the right ticket would not have been a different price, even more infuriating as someone who was genuinely trying to be the least annoying tourist possible) was given to me by a female station guard. Bleh.

Anyway, in France at least, I went out of my way to ask a man. Icky as it is, if it saves me 35€, fine.

The palace was warm, stuffy, sleepy, elegant, velvet, gold, all the magical stuff, and furniture that I wish I could make look at home in my 1-bedroom apartment in the midwest. So far, no dice, but I shant be stopped.

For me, a plant nerd and former greenhouse employee, I feel deeply in love with the gardens. The statues, ponds, fountains, hedges, the hidden paths that continue to reveal new hollows and wonders. I wish I could disappear into them for weeks. I wish I could shrink down into a little fairy and lounge like a French aristocrat on a lily pad. Or Apollos Bathgrove. Definitely Apollos Bathgrove. It was easy to imagine these statues wading in the pools, raising their faces to meet the thin streams of water that fall down, coaxing the cool water over their bodies, like the mermaid scene in Peter Pan, or the Nymphs in Hercules.

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