Passport to Paris

Last weekend, I acted upon my nearly 22 years of complete, blinding obsession of Paris and France (which until just this summer I desperately tried to hide from my Frenchie boyfriend so he wouldn't think that was the only reason I was with him) and set off for my dreamed-of adventure. 

You know those times when you build something up in your head. And then it happens, and you're left thinking, "Man. That was so much better in my mind." This was not one of those times. 

If we're being straight, Paris fulfilled and exceeded everything I thought it was going to be. You cynics who believe that's just because I was determined to love it may go ahead and think that (it may be true), but either way, sparkles, magic, and wonder. 

Paris: The Highlight Reel

Day one, or, rather, night one, we went to The Louvre. 

"Isn't she louvre-ly? Isn't she wonderful?" 

Sorry. I had a moment. Thank you for bearing with me. This is a picture of the whole group. It's a bit blurry, but it's the only one of all of us. 

The Louvre is enormous! I don't know why it was smaller in my mind, but the sucker went on for days. Seriously, I felt like I was at Hogwarts (Harry Potter reference for you culturally unaware). I'd go up one staircase, turn around, and an entirely different area would be behind me. Minus the staircase. What. How. 

Additionally, that was the night of the first Eiffel Tower sighting. I don't have a picture of it from that night, but no one NO ONE told me it was going to glitter! IT GLITTERS. Not just glows. Glitters. We all know how I feel toward glitter. I can die happy now (don't you dare roll your eyes, Noah). 

Day 2. 

After a trip to our bakery that morning (and everybody said AMEN), our wee group of 7 walked down to the Parc Zoologique down the street. I feel as though its name was a little misleading, but it was a lovely little parc with a pond. 

After, we took the metro down to this market (without getting lost, I might add). It was extensive and had both indoor and outdoor portions. My purchases were all along the line of jasmine pants. Since returning, I have worn real trousers all of once. 

The Eiffel Tower was next. (suppressed screams of reminisced excitement). When we came out of The Metro tunnels and turned the corner, allowing it to come into view, I think my heart fell into my stomach (again, you can make fun of me. I am okay with that). 

First view.

Looking up from the second tier

Looking down. :) (Sorry daddy)

How does this not fill your heart with                                                                       sparkles and love? 

I could really just stop the post here. 

BUT I won't because we haven't even gotten to day 3. 

 Okay, I promise it makes sense why we're kissing a grave. This is the grave of Oscar Wilde in the Père Lachaise Cemetery. Yes, Oscar is actually an Anglo-Irish writer, but, through a series of unfortunate events, he was imprisoned, died, and landed in a Parisian cemetery. For reasons I don't need to go into, Wilde happens to be a sort of patron saint of disappointed love. Therefore, people pilgrimage to his grave and cover it in kisses. This happened so much, though, that chemicals in the lipstick began to corrode the grave. Thus, the screen. We got kicked out of the area just after this picture. Worth it.

Notre Dame just before it began to pour. Disney actually got it pretty dead on. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't humming tunes from the movie while I toured about inside. I took this picture while sitting on the edge of the Seine on a walkway below the street. It's just so beautiful. 

Right over the Seine and just beside the Notre Dame was the lock bridge. This bridge, from start to finish and top to bottom, is covered in locks. Lovers will come, write their names and usually a date on a lock, fasten it--somewhere--and throw the lock into the river. It's very sweet, actually. And also fun to sort through and laugh at the goo (and dumb names) of some couples.

That was my view of Paris. I left out quite a bit and lots of funny stories like how I got chased down the Seine, spoke totally acceptable Frenglish to people on the Metro, restaurants, vendors, and to get directions from people on the street, getting kicked out of playpens in the airport, getting made fun of for my accent on the metro, making friends with strangers, and so many other truly funny and fun memories. 

It was pretty near perfect. Don't get me wrong, I was very ready to come back home and don't feel the need to return anytime soon, but as far as reality vs. childhood fantasies, it hit it home.