8 tips for falling in love with Paris

The only thing that has been more dragged out than my Euro-trip as a whole, is the four days spent in Paris. To say "I took too many pictures", is an understatement. To say "I can't let go of reminiscing about the splendor that is the City of Light", is just a fact. 

Can anyone really blame me for my infatuation with Paris? Anyone, other than those preposterous people who think Paris is smelly, rude, and overrated? I think not.

So here, despite my nostalgic attachment, is my final post on Paris: our last day and a few tips on how to not be one of the aforementioned, absurd Paris-haters. 

Tip #1: Eat crepes. Specifically, crepes loaded with chocolate and/or Nutella, because no one can sh*t-talk a country that is responsible for this kind of scrumptious treat.   

Tragedy on the Pont des Arts

Sometimes we make plans, and they just don't go the way we, well, planned. 

A little over a year ago, my two best friends and I sat in a chinese restaurant in Paris (because we felt a need to eat it in every foreign country, escargot be damned), talking about our return trip to the city in 40 years. 

The idea of re-living our backpacking trip forty years from now arose when we were in Barcelona and learned that La Sagrada Familia is believed to be completed somewhere in between 2020 and 2040 (2028 to be exact, but the Spanish don't seem to be overly optimistic that it will ever be really completed). In any case, given this excessive range of years and the assumption that we're going to get a little caught up in families, careers, and the craziness that is life over the next four decades, we decided at about 60 we would be ready to recreate the trip and see how Europe evolves in that time.

Artful Bliss

When I decided to major in European Humanities, I was constantly asked "Ok, but what is humanities?" In some ways it is hard to define such a broad topic. When you refer to studying history it is still broad, but people understand that you are learning about the past. The humanities often encompasses a study of antiquity, but goes a step further. I chose my major because I wanted to study culture, and that is the focus of a humanities major. Literature, architecture, religion, art, and all forms of human creativity are studied, both past and present. I like the way that the Stanford Humanities Department explains it:

"The humanities can be described as the study of how people process and document the human experience...Knowledge of these records of the human experience gives us the opportunity to feel a sense of connection to those who have come before us, as well as to our contemporaries."

Since graduation and the onset of my post grad crisis, I have sometimes stopped and questioned if I chose the right major: "Maybe I should have majored in something more judicious like Communications or Business". However, despite these moments of self doubt, I am still sure that I chose the correctly in following my passion. Nothing makes me light up like the opportunity to see a great work of art, some great feat of humanity, and that's the kind of zeal I want to build both my future career and life around. 

My trip to Europe was, of course, the ultimate way to feed my love of art, Paris especially. 

C'est la vie

What I would give to be in Paris walking along the Seine at this moment...probably the same thing I would give to actually have finished editing all my photos and be talking about this summer and not the last. Then again, why would I want to give up reliving the memories of the most dazzling adventure I've had to date. 

Recalling my memories from Paris is like slipping into a black and white movie; everything is far away and as if from another time. It's an image of a life that I could not have possibly lived. 

The Adventures of the Lost Macaron

After a morning of Renaissance culture spent at Notre Dame, Brooke, Lindsey, and I went off in search of my other personal favorite cultural time period. 

Notre Dame

No one could ever deny that I was an odd child. I'm still a little weird, so this shouldn't come as any surprise. Though I loved Disney Princesses as much as the next little girl, one of my all time favorite Disney movies was always The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I was fully obsessed with it and the saucy Esmerelda. I would watch this twisted film frequently, curled beneath my Esmerelda blanket, obviously. 

Now, for those of you who haven't watched this movie in a few years, or maybe a decade, I really think now is the time. From the plot line to the soundtrack, I do not use the adjective "twisted" lightly. There are often underlying themes in Disney films to entertain adults, but once you get to an age where you can fully comprehend the plot of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, you realize that the adult content wasn't hidden in the least. On the lightest end, you have a ridiculed misshapen orphan, and on the darkest, an angry Judge Claude Frollo lusting after the "gypsy girl, the witch who set this flame". Then there's the delightful middle ground of persecution of the Gypsies in Paris. It's really a splendid movie. 

If you can't appreciate the film for its outrageous subject matter, cleverly targeted for children, then you must at least give Disney kudos points for the phenomenal illustration. When we started our second day in Paris with the agenda to go see Notre Dame, I didn't believe it would actually bear such a resemblance in detail to the animated version. Bravo Disney, bravo: not only did your film spur my initial intrigue into the grand gothic cathedral, but it guaranteed that I could hum haunting melodies all the way through the great halls, but not before Brooke, Lindsey, and I started our day with pastries and café au lait, like proper Parisians. 

The first 5 hours in Paris

I think I should preface this little bout of narrative by saying that Brooke, Lindsey, and I absolutely adored Paris. While I think we all were equally excited to go there, I particularly was a little wary of it, simply because I had heard various things about smelly streets and snobby Parisians. During our brief romance with City of Light, however, we had a nearly entirely enchanting experience.  

I say "nearly" not because we had any kind of Barcelona-esc trauma, but rather because our first evening excursion in Paris, after a quick flight and a long taxi ride, was so incredibly comical. 

While there is no photographic evidence of the first part of this story time, I can supply one iconic image to pretty much summarize what occurred within our first hour of wandering the airy Summer streets of Paris: