i spent may 1-3 in paris. the city of l-o-v-e is not a place i had ever intended on going to on my own. but hot damn, i’m glad it unravelled that way. those 3 days epitomized why travelling solo can be so rad.
walk around notre dame. duck into a hole-in-the-wall creperie and feast on nutella. take the metro to all four corners. sit in a pew at the sacre-coeur. flip through ancient books at shakespeare & company. meander past art galleries, boulangeries, and old vintage shops overflowing with racks of ragged jeans and leather jackets, buckets of glasses and ties, shelves stocked with old sneakers and worn flats. pluck on typewriters. go to the grave of jim morrison and walk around the pere lachaise listening to the doors. stare up at the eiffel. buy a teeny-tiny cup of espresso. walk down the glorious champs-elysees. find small streets adorned with graffiti and christmas lights. drool beside the window of the chocolatier on rue saint-louis en l’ile. stop for an impromptu breakdancing session in the metro. get in on a giant protest making its way down st-germain. dip your nose into the sunflowers at the corner shop, and sniff.
and my absolute, most favorite thing,
stand under the towering arc de triomphe at night while 8 lanes of cars zoom in swirls around you, look off to the right at the sparkling eiffel and then up at the full moon above, and while the city of lights glitters and love fumes rule the air, take in the first jumpy notes of the rolling stones ‘sympathy for the devil’…
“Please allow me to introduce myself
Im a man of wealth and taste…”
…and try not to die of pure joy. because it just does not get any better.