Paris, City of Metaphors

Can you believe that when I first restarted this blog I said I was going to update twice a week, and now it's been almost a year since I last posted anything? I can, because that's how I roll. Unfortunately. *puts on sunglasses sadly*

Somehow I don't have any pictures from Paris?! I thought I for sure had 800 pictures of gargoyles. Um, so here's a picture of where I've been instead of Paris: Seattle. 

Within the next few months, my boyfriend Steve and I will be leaving on a trip to mostly Europe for six months. We keep hoping to do a year but can't yet due to Steve's immigration junk (he's from England and hasn't gotten his American flag bandanna yet, also he still thinks football means soccer and that lager is good).

We’re flying in to Paris, so now is a good time to reminisce about the City of Many Nicknames. It’s the kind of place that people dream of going, where once-in-a-lifetime trips are taken, and it’s the subject of so many scrapbooks and/or Pinterest boards it practically has its own aisle at the craft store.

Paris has an outrageous number of “must-see” attractions. “You simply must go to the Louvre, Versailles, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and go on a boat tour of the Seine, and a nighttime tour that points out all the pretty lights,” says a coworker you don’t want to talk to in the break room while you're just trying to combine all the flavors of oatmeal packets in peace. Don’t get me wrong: these things are all great to do and see. I’m a big believer in the “it’s famous for a reason” philosophy. 

But if all you do in Paris is go to the big sights, you’re not going to like it as much as you should--I know I didn't. The first time I visited was on a family vacation to London and Paris when I was fourteen. While I enjoyed the sights, especially Versailles, the city just didn't compare to London. Looking back, I think that was because we didn't just see things in London, we also did things. We went to markets and old pubs, ate fry-ups, and in general actually tried to immerse ourselves in the culture rather than just tolerate it on the way to the Arc de Triomphe.

London. Look at all that culture.

The second time I went to Paris, I planned to do it right: find some balance between culture and famous sights. Somehow, though, I ended up at all the big sights yet again (I was ill and couldn't be bothered to make an effort). “Okay, I don’t like Paris,” I decided after that, and the third time I ended up there, I wasn't expecting anything.

That’s when I started to like it. There was nothing I needed to see; I finally had the freedom to do whatever I wanted. I went to Musee d’Orsay and the tower of Notre Dame, but I also wandered around Galeries Lafayette and laughed at the hilarious men’s underwear section, ogled the many exciting varieties of yogurt at the grocery store (apricot almond, hell yes!), searched unsuccessfully for working wifi, somewhere, anywhere, and drank wine on the sidewalk with my aunt.

So, yes, I’m looking forward to going to Paris again, but I will not be going to the Louvre or Versailles any time soon, even though I’ll be there with someone who has never been. Luckily, Steve doesn't care about that stuff. (Okay, I know I just said the famous sights don’t equal a good time, but seriously, how do you not care about going to Versailles? Not even one time? He could go without me, that’s fine, really, but he won’t. I guess I should expect that from the guy who’s from England and never bothered to go to Paris even though it’s like two seconds away.)