I fear that I may never stop talking about the 5 short days the three of us spent in Paris. I never actually wrote anything in my notes about my time there, but I believe that to be because I knew I'd remember everything about this magical city. Every detail about the french streets, the romantic lights, and the quaint cafes. Every sound from the boats on the Seine River, the taxis during our bike tour, and the music playing on the Champ de Mars. Even every smell from each and every crepe that I ate that week, and boy did I ever NOT hold back on those. The locals there, the architecture of the buildings (from the modern addition of the prism in front of the Lourve to the renovations of Rodin's house) the history behind the city...just about everything could never be erased from the deepest crevices of my mind. They are most certainly engraved there for the long haul.
I sound like a typical teenager obsessing over that cute boy I went to the one party with.
In all honesty, Paris, France you have my heart. And I am certainly not embarrassed to be associated with the so called "obsessing teenager" mentioned above.
TALK ABOUT MOUTHWATERING.
The night tour took us a different way, and I'll be honest and say I don't remember how we started, but we donned our reflector vests and traveled away from Tour Eiffel. Our destination would be Notre Dame. We crossed lovers bridge, ate a delicious sandwhich, learned about the prism at the Lourve, took a boat ride on the Seine River, and ended at Tour Eiffel yet again. I'm sure I've missed some important, worthwhile details, but I hope this paints a small picture of just how memorable our bike ride was.
I picture Heaven to look similar to Versailles with its golden gates a plenty and it's green shrubbery surrounding the entire perimeter.
We travelled down the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, and in my head I heard Phil LIggett commentating our every step. The steps up to the top of the Arc de Triomphe seemed to mock us as it had to have been the millionth step in all our journey.
We walked through the Musee Rodin with gelato melting down our hands. I eagerly turned every corner to maybe catch a glimpse of Owen Wilson reading Adriana's diary.
We pretended to each be Esmeralda while touring Notre Dame. Unfortunately, we did not climb those steps to the bell tower...we rationalized that we had quite possibly seen enough stairs for a lifetime.
We ended our days with a bottle of wine, a baguette, and each other's company in front of the spectacular night lights of the Eiffel Tower.
Si tu vois ma mere is currently on repeat.
They say Paris is most beautiful in the rain.
I also think it's most beautiful day/night, rain or shine; summer, winter, fall or spring.
...there goes that obsessive teenager again.
NOW. TO PLAN MY NEXT ADVENTURE.