Revenir a Paris

I can't think of a better way then to commence this post than with the lyrics to one of my favorite songs, "Bonjour Paris" from the movie Funny Face, starring - who else? Audrey Hepburn.

This song is the absolutely perfect song to listen to you when you arrive in Paris. I also think the lyrics were inspired by the thoughts running through my head.

Alors...

I want to step out
Down the Champs-Élysées,
From the Arch of Triumph
To the Petit Palais.
That's for me:
Bonjour, Paris!

I want to wander
Through the Saint-Honoré,
Do some window shopping
In the Rue de la Paix
That's for me:

Bonjour, Paris!

I want to see the den of thinking men
like Jean-Paul Sartre.
I must philosophise with all the guys
around Montmartre - and Montparnasse.

I'm strictly tourist
But I couldn't care less.
When they parlez-vous me
Then I gotta confess.
That's for me:
Bonjour, Paris!

Light up the Louvre museum
Jazz up the Latin quarter
To show the richest and the poorest:
Here it comes,
The great American tourist!

This has got to be illegal
What I feel
Trés gay, trés chic,
Trés mag-nifique
C'est moi, c'est vous
C'est grand, c'est too tout...
It's too good to be true,
All the things we can do.
You do things to my point of view.

Living is easy,
The livin' is high.
All good Americans
Should come here to die.

Is it real?
Am I here?

There's something missing
There's something missing, I know:
There's still one place
I've got to go!

[Audrey and crew arrive at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower one after the other and meet in the lift.]

We're strictly tourists,
You can titter and jeer.
All we want to say is La Fayette, we are here on a spree,
Bonjour, Paris!
Bonjour!

Bonjour - indeeed! After two years away from my one true love - I am back. And it feels nothing short of incroyable!

All day, I had to keep pinching myself in order to believe I was really here. It was so simple, a short luxurious train ride to Paris, that I didn't really believe it.

I arrived at the Gare Du Nord, and took a short stroll to my accomodations for le weekend. After searching for a cheap hotel for days and finding nothing acceptable, I was contemplating pitching a tent on the champs de mars. Which would actually be my dream, if it were safe. And legal.

But since it is the not, and the place I nearly booked turned out to have bed bugs when I cross-refrenced with TripAdvisor, I decided to try a different route: Une Chambre d'Hote. Literally, a room to rent, in some kind Parisan's grand maison who has too much space is looking to make some extra centimes. Donc, I booked a chambre at "le85," and now I have duex nouveaux amis, Didier et Valerie!

I was a bit nervous about this, I must admit. I had no idea what these people would be like, what the house would be like, they had no website to check out. But something, that bonne chance et optimisme inside me told me this was a good plan. And the moment that Dider opened the porte to his lovely maison, I knew I was right.

Mon chambre, called the Chambre Baudelaire (after Charles, bien sur) is a gorgeous, immaculate, Haussmanian room, complete with fresh flowers, clean fluffy towels, and a complimenty pellogrino! Et plus, there is an enormous built in bookshelf full of books that I could devour like a crepe! Guides to Paris, thick volumes of "architects celebre," Louis XV history, and of course - Baudelaire's "Les Fleurs de Mal - which is next me to for some light reading before je me couche.

I could have sat and read for hours - but of course, I was out of the door and headed to old stomping grounds - le Marais.

It was raining en peu so I took the metro to Hotel de Ville, and when I came out I felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, happiness, sadness, love, admiration... need I go on? I slowly traced my old path from the Hotel de Ville up the Rue Archives to the Rue Saint Crois de la Brettonerie. I stopped at 14 and tried to remember the code to get in but couldn't.

I pressed up my nose up to the glass of the door - longing for it to disappear and I saw the mailbox for M. Drouard, our mean old neighbor! Oh, how I longed to ring him! If only we had been friends - and not enemies - I could have come up to prend un cafe and reminisce!

I wandered around my old neighborhood, admiring how everything was the same. The same shops, the same restaurants, the same flyers for the Bazaar Hotel de Ville being passed out on my street. I went in to favorite boulangerie, and bought one of what they do best -

"une baguette, si vous plait"

Still a bit warm from the oven, I sunk my teeth in, and as I did I could hear the perfectly crusty shell softly cracking, my now flour-dusted fingers holding on as it tore. The chewy, airy, most delicious bread that hit my tounge nearly sent me into a frenzy, and the total experience of eating the most perfect baguette made me remember just how totally amazing they are.

You can find good croissants, bon macarons, good foie gras, and even decent duck confit - outside France. But a French Baguette is truly something that does not exist anywhere but in France - and I actually like it that way, because it is something to look forward to each and every time.

So, looking truly Parisienne as I bit away at my baguette, I happily walked towards Notre Dame while listening to Edith Paif, and as I crossed the Pont and I caught the smallest glimpse of the tip of the Eiffle Tower, I froze.

(Insert pinch) "The tour," I thought! "I'm really here!!" And I teared up. Swear to my BFF, God.

Baguette - check

Tour sighting - check

On with the day!

I walked over to Notre Dame, a walk I've done a thousand times, but was more special than ever before. On the to the Ile St. Louis - one of my favorite little parts of Paris, where I got un crepe Nutella at my favorite creperie. Speaking French is so fun - it is seriously the best feeling in the world to wander down the rue and just dit a casual "bonjour, or cava" to the other Parisians. It makes me giddy.

After visiting some of my favorite spots, I crossed the pont and walked all the way up the Boulevard St. Germain. Passing Les Deux Magots et Cafe de Flore, awwwing over the places I used to sit and have a creme, admiring the big stand full of les bon-bons. On my first time in Paris, Tre and me walked Boulevard St. Germain everynight, so it is particularly special to me.

When I finally hit Rue du Bac, I turned for the Musee D'Orsay - my greatest love in Paris, aside from the tour itself.

I was reluctant to have to pay - because while it is well worth it, when I lived here I had a student of art card that got me into all the museums free! So, I approached the caisse with my carte de credit pret for charging, and my bonne chance kicked in!

If you are under 25 and a citizen of the E.U. you get into all the museums free.

If you are under 25 and American, too bad for you. Not only is your life terrible because you live in American, but you also must pay.

If you are under 25 and American, but possess a long-term VISA for the E.U. or U.K, you get into all the museums free!!

Merci, bonne chance!

It was heaven walking around the 5th floor, admiring particularly the beautiful Degas.. And - I realized that since my last visit - a whole new post-impressionism floor opened - with a whole room devoted to Van Gogh - mon favori. Double bonne chance! It was like seeing a whole new museum.

I left feeling so inspired that I decided to ballet dance up the bank of seine, because why not? It was nighttime, and all the lights of Paris were shining around me like spotlghts, and I felt like the quai was my stage.

My finale was a pirouette in Place de la Concorde - and right on the stroke of 6 o'clock, like a standing ovation, the tour came into sight, and was sparkling it's first sparkle of the evening. Triple bonne chance.

The Marche du Noel was in full effect ahead, and so I wandered up the Champs d'Elysee taking in the sight of the most beautiful street in the world lined with christmas lights and decorations. I felt like I was in a dream as I turned onto Avenue Montaigne, passing Chloe, Chanel, Dior on the way to the tour. Grinning ear to ear and laughing for no reason but the pure joy I felt for being where I was.

I crossed the Pont D'Alma and boarded the Bateaux Parisiennes for a night cruise on the Seine, the best way to see all the lights of Paris. I like this cruise this best because along with the commentary, they play French music the whole time, which just takes the magique to another level. I felt like I was floating above the Seine - not riding a boat on it - because I was so happy. I did however, so long to have someone to be kissing while we passed under the Pont Marie.

Paris is for lovers. Everyone in Paris is in love, and is strolling hand and hand and smooching and whispering les poems d'amours in each others ears. Especially on the Seine Cruise. I am totally in love with the Eiffel Tower, so I was fine - but, it would have been pretty magnifique to have mon petit chou - Joshua, avec moi pour le kissing.

When the cruise ended, I found myself right at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, with ten minutes until sparkle time. I ordered a crepe jambon et fromage, and stood there savoring each and every incroyable bite while I waited.

To stand right beneath the tour is a feeling unlike any other. It is so enormous and beautiful, and standing right there at the bottom of it is a moment where life becomes clear, and you realize the only thing you should ever be concerned about is figuring out a way to stay right where you are, forever.

So I had a thought.

What if - because the Eurostar is so fab and quick - what if I actually lived in Paris, and just commuted to London everyday for work?

A little crazy, oui. But I know people who commute far longer than an hour a half everyday to work. The more I thought about it - I realized I could move in permanently with Didier so that I could live right near Gare du Nord to make it even easier. It's one of my more brilliant ideas, really. I need to live in this city again! I am hooked on Paris like a druggie is hooked on their variety of druggie pills!

So, with wonderful thoughts of resuming my life here, I headed home and instantly passed out in the luxurious King-sized bed (another perk of living with Didier). And as visions of croissants, baguettes, and crepes danced in my head - I dreamed the most wonderful dreams of living inside the Eiffel Tower for the rest of my life.