Je T’aime, Je T’aime, Je T’aime

I’m Never Coming Home

Morgan Jones
Jul 10, 2017 · 4 min read

Ce matin, I woke up to Paris in the rain. Magic. We got around, checked out, and headed to the Louvre. We walked to the pavilion with the glass pyramid, and got in a line (the wrong one) and then went into the right one. The wait was 2.5 hours. We took touristy pics, for the culture, and jetted to Notre-Dame.

Notre-Dame was magical. The bells went off when we were in line, and although I strongly contend that I’m a left bank person, the right bank was beautiful. We went inside, and I think it was the most authentic High Gothic church experience I’ve had in Europe thus far. The lighting was pretty accurate to have been artificial and the stained glass was gorgeous. We then went to a café/brosserie down the street, and, again, magical. I had potage de legumes with rosé. It was incredible. I brunched on a street café in Paris by the Notre-Dame. J’adore la France. We walked around the right bank, and ended up in some weird, twisty roads that somehow led us to Shakespeare & Co. I’d been trying to get there all weekend but didn’t know how close it was, and didn’t want to derail plans — but we found it accidentally! It’s fantastic. As soon as you walk in there’s a section on the Beats (I die), and the Lost Generation (I’m Hemingway trash). I looked around for a french language version of Le Petit Prince, and couldn’t find it. I asked, and I couldn’t find it because they keep them behind the counter. Must be a hot item at Shakespeare & Co. And I got it stamped, so now I have to procreate or something because this book is an heirloom lol.

We went back towards the Montmartre area, and walked around our hostel since we had thirty minutes to kill and hadn’t looked about yet. We found a super cute flower shop across the street that I’d been eyeing from the window because the signage was 💯. Then we grabbed our bags from the hostel locker and headed to CDG.

We took the train to the airport, and our tickets got us there, but wouldn’t let us in. There aren’t any ticket kiosks in CDG, so, just a heads up, know what you’re doing or you’ll get stuck just outside the airport with no way to get in or out. We waited around looking like confused Americans until some employees let us through, and when they did the turnstile closed on me, and I have two very prominent hip bruises to commemorate my time at Charles DeGaulle. We walked through customs (as we were leaving the country ! open borders huh got to love ’em) and got our stamps, then waited for our flight.

When we landed, we saw true love. Ann documented it all on snapchat. A man, who looked like a young Harrison Ford, was waiting at arrivals with flowers. We decided he was an anthropologist. We were rooting for him from the sidelines. He kept checking his phone, and the flowers were shaking in his hands. We waited for the happy ending and it warmed my cold, unfeeling heart. Then we boarded the bus back to Oxford, and I got confirmation that my friends are the best because Jill and I sent each other the same Seth Rogen tweet about the pronunciation of La Croix (La Kwa) at the exact same time. I’m back in Oxford now and I’m trying to load all 40k pictures I took this weekend to go through so now we wait.

This weekend was magical.


P.S. C’est le temps de l’amour

Morgan Jones

Written by

twenty-first century woman | student

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