Paris.

Go ahead. Choose a tune for your browse: 

Can I say it? I don’t love Paris. I did, a while ago, but I’ve never been able to get a grasp on the city and, because of that, each trip feels like I just might be wasting precious time, and I'm unsure of whether or not I’m fully experiencing it. My French is also atrocious. 

"An Unfortunate American in Paris"

T and I took the 7:55 am train from London's St Pancras Wednesday morning. Train travel can be lovely, and it’s certainly nicer than the fuss of the airport. I scarfed down a croissant and then napped for the duration of the trip, waking up just before we pulled into Gare du Nord so I could run my fingers through my hair and apply a quick coat of mascara – this was Paris, after all.

A lot of people have asked me about the ride through the Chunnel: it’s not at all exciting, and I was sure to snap a picture of the view as proof:

As I said, nothing to see here; please move along. I also timed it, mostly for curiosity’s sake:

Sent from my iPhone.

It’s a quick, 23-minute trip through a black tunnel where you enter in one country and come out in another.

Back to Paris.

The sun was very kind to us and I came out of the getaway with my first burn of the year. 

K + T as close as we got to the inside of the Louvre

Brunch was crepes, savory and sweet, with cider.  I drank T's, too, because...well, because it's good.

Ham + cheese + egg

We saw (most of) the major sites.

Pont de l'Archevêché (That last word is why I don't like French)

Notre Dame

Metro stop outside of the Louvre

T’s not a museum person, and I’ve been twice, so we opted for a self-guided outside tour of the Louvre, wandering around its exterior. It all leads to beautiful gardens and parks full of Parisians and tourists sunbathing and tolerating one another in chairs around fountains. 

Eventually you make your way to the Champs Élysées (time to switch songs).

We wandered up the famous street with its famous arch surrounded by its famous roundabout (which always makes me think of National Lampoon's European Vacation).

After a quick stop at Ladurée for macaroons, of course.

I didn’t think I like macaroons, but I proudly proclaim to be a changed woman (try the raspberry).

We wandered as far west as Louis Vuitton, where we carefully touched things for which we literally couldn't have paid and collapsed in chairs at the very top for stellar views and free wifi (how generous of you, LV).

Early-evening, exhaustion finally caught up with me – I always try to maintain an unmaintainable pace – and I desparately needed a nap and l'eau. We rushed back to our hotel and crashed for 2.5 glorious hours, waking up just in time to join the late dinner crowd.

Dinner was ramen in near our hotel. Another queue (comprised almost totally of Japanese, so we knew it would be good) before stepping into a tiny restaurant that seats no more than 25 people. You order in line, while waiting for your table, and watch the rubber boot-wearing kitchen staff slosh big buckets of pork fat (of which you choose the level you want – light, medium, or heavy) into the broth and pull fresh nests of noodles out of stacked crates.

Once you are seated, the soup comes quickly. You add your own created concoction of table-side oils and spices, and dig in.

I opted for medium pork fat + pork.

Slurping is totally acceptable.

T went with less fat, but add the butter, please.

A post-dinner walk along the Seine was supposed to take us to the Eiffel Tower, but we never quite made it. 

I love the riverboats always docked in Paris. I honestly don’t know anything about them or their inhabitants, but I like to imagine that they’re teeming with gypsies, sustained by the city's (nonexiststant) feral goat population. In truth, they’re probably owned by companies that charge ridiculous fees for river tours. 

(See? I can’t even give Paris the romance it deserves.)

Will someone google this for me?

We ended up on the Champs Élysées again, this time at Häagen-Dazs for ice cream. It was ridiculously busy, ridiculously overpriced, and moderately good. I didn't snap a picture, so read about the company here, if you'd like. But I don't think I get any money from your clicks, so I wouldn't.

We caught the metro – Paris’s version of the underground – for a quick ride home, applied Korean face masks, did a quick flip through the channels, and crashed (once we realized we couldn't understand a single thing on TV) with the still-busy streets as our white noise.

On Thursday morning we woke up late, but not so late that we couldn't dash out for a quick pain au chocolat et lait and Longchamp splurge (oops) before checking out of our hôtel and making our way to Gare du Nord once more for the return trip. 

Underground stations seem to have the most beautiful acoustics, meaning they're the perfect location for a twelve-man symphony orchestra to set up and play. 

Practical!

Karl kept me company on the way home. We all know how I feel about a man with a ponytail. 

Au revoir, Paris! I will mostly miss your mostly reasonable Euro to US Dollar exchange rate. 

And my goodness, I couldn't wait to get back to London.