Bicycles and Croissants
2 Days in Paris…
My expectations of Paris go something like this. “Paris, I have finally arrived! I am ready for a “Mr. Big” romance and shopping at Chanel then to sip a cappuccino, nibble on a croissant and enjoy conversations with the Hemingways’ and Fitzgeralds’ before we go out on the town to dance the night away!!!”
“Classic Pop Culture.” This sums up my soul and my weekend trip to Paris quite well. By day, a Carrie Bradshaw-esque travel blogger. By night, a 1920's dancer who has eclectic artist friends with philosopher minds and a love of whiskey, writing and cafes.
With the help of my then Italian (Italians have been proven by law to be very romantic) boyfriend, romance embraced the weekend. He found our lovely hotel. We came upon Hotel du Petit Moulin, Paris Circa 1920’s. It wasn’t the Hotel Plaza Athenee (hotel in Sex in the City), but it was the perfect fit to my classic Paris dream. A boutique hotel that was once a bakery. One review says it perfect, “A magical small romantic Marais hotel where an ancient Paris bakery meets Christian Lacroix.” It was one of Paris’s oldest bakeries and transformed by the Christian Lacroix. Boutique hotels seem to always display a more cultural feel. It brings you closer to feeling, I don’t know…Parisian. Especially when the outside is designed in the 17th century with darling luxury accents of chic Paris throughout the rooms. Best thing is, very reasonable prices in Haut-Marais. A swanky part of town centrally located filled with art galleries and sexy fashion boutiques.
Each woman looked more fabulous than the next. With their short bobbed hair and chic style. I couldn’t help but wish that I could pull off short bobbed hair. Not taking that thought any further, I decided to let my blond locks flow with the breeze, but not before I changed into what was my fabulous Paris outfit. Ever since Carrie Bradshaw stepped on the plane in her blue and white stripped Paris-esque ensemble, I have been secretly putting together mine. Keeping my boho chic style, a fitted pair of white (J Brand) jeans paired with a flowy blue and white linen blouse and strappy sandals, I was ready to swing my hips down the catwalk, I mean Champs-Elysees. It’s all about the confidence ladies, and I was embracing mine to the max as we rode bicycles (no catwalk) through the historical city on the warm summer day. A fabulous way to see the life of any city, keep the air quality a bit cleaner and a great opportunity to burn off the cheese and foie gras dishes from last night.
Many other metropolitan cities have incorporated the rental bike stations throughout their major hubs. Paris seemed to have doubled the amount of bike stations then cabs. It is extremely easy to find one as well as the process of renting one. Once you start peddling away, get lost through the streets. Make a left or right and you will find breathtaking view of centuries old squares, churches, neighborhoods, restaurants, and markets. The bikes do come with locks so if you choose to hang on to your bike you can. Hemingway most likely would have turned the bike option down to walk, but I wonder if Carrie would have incorporated peddling into her visit to Chanel.
Without any recommendations, we stumbled into cafes, brasseries, and boulangeries. We decided to leave it up to “where the moments lead us” then to stick to the reviews with heads down following the blue dot on the iPhone. It worked pretty well for us. The atmospheres of the local food, laughter, culture won us over every time. Though, I was concerned about what to eat. My experience and knowledge, which is minimal hails from the states. I related French food with fatty pates, meats, and pastries. I was pleasantly surprised.
Dishes were prepared with such delicacy and were very fresh. I always say when a dish is created with love and eaten with love the food digests with love. Translation: easy on the hips. From my travel experiences, you can pretty much ALWAYS find a healthy lighter culturally stimulated dish. A couple of restaurants with such options include Je The…Me, Glou, and Le Dome.
As someone who enjoys the quiet moments of a city, I was in love with our Sunday morning. All the shops were closed, including most restaurants. The streets were bare, the markets light, the cafes filled with books, journals, and French laughs. The locals seemed so peaceful, so joyful so…in love with life as they stroll down the street with a loaf of bread and a newspaper. Back home in Santa Monica, you would never see a local carrying a loaf of bread from the market. You see them walking down the street with a green juice and a yoga mat with the same sense of joy. It’s a nice change though. Feeling joyful with a croissant in hand.
Our last afternoon in Paris was saved for a dream of mine. No, I did not shower with Mr. Big. It was so much better than that. I have been drawn to the lives of artists in Paris circa 1920’s since the beginning of my love for writing and my first burlesque show. I did my research and journeyed to all of Hemingway’s cafes where he used to write, drink, and delve in deep conversations with Gertrude Stein and company before a night out. I made my boyfriend sit with me at a few of the cafes to grab a taste, a spark of inspiration from that time. I sat in peace writing while I sipped my cappuccino, nibbled on my croissant and day dreamed of Paris life back then.
2 Days in Paris = Love at first site.
Of course, some tourist traps had to happen on my first visit to Paris. The Eiffel Tower and the D’Orsay Museum was the perfect duo.
