For a Day in Paris

It wasn’t until after I arrived in Paris that I started to understand the appeal.

The old world of Europe is so drastically different from the US. On paper, that makes sense, but experiencing it in person is something else entirely. Instead of reading about the history, you can actually see it. The US is still in its infancy compared to France. One walk through downtown Paris will show you that. Pick any random road, and you’ll eventually walk by a several hundred-year-old building. Cathedrals, old apartment buildings, parks, monuments, you name it, the history isn’t just there, it’s everywhere.

I only had one day to explore Pairs.

We started our day at a hotel just north of the city alongside the Seine River. It was summer, and the morning air was warm and thick with humidity. As we drove our rental car to the nearest train station, I noticed the vast amount of greenery and old buildings. Flowers and vines grew along the riverside, painting a beautiful contrast with the colorful pastels of the Parisian buildings.

When we got to the train station, I marveled at the space around us. One thing that quickly becomes clear when visiting France is that almost every corner feels like a storybook. Instead of gray sidewalks, you might find a dozen different alternatives. Some places use bricks, some stone, others a dirt path, and there’s a literal depth to them. In many places, there are underground parking garages, highway tunnels, or underground businesses. Like a good story, there’s much more to the streets of France than what lies on the surface.

The train took us to the Arc de Triumph, the first monument to prove to me that photos are never as good as the real thing. When we climbed to the final steps out of the metro, I had to fight the urge to stop and stare. The funny thing was that we hadn’t planned to go there. We just happened upon it as it was one of the first major stops of the metro we’d transferred to.

We took photos and admired the structure for a while, then returned to the metro, unsure where we’d end up next. When we spotted an information booth, we jumped at the opportunity. My wife, who has studied French for years, got her first chance to try speaking the language and asked the worker for a map. I admired her as she spoke, and I remember feeling proud to call her wife.

When we got the map, she geeked out and told me about several of the places on the map. There was so much to do, all of it worthwhile, and time was marching forward. We prioritized. Within a few minutes, we had a plan to visit sites all around the city. One of the best parts of being married to a French lover is that they know places less familiar to the crowds.

Our first stop took us to a hillside market by Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. As we climbed hills and walked down narrow allies, we searched for a specific shop that had the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur in the background. Most tourists wouldn’t find the spot unique, but to me, and especially my wife, it was special. Many years ago, my wife’s grandma traveled to France and painted the scene. Her grandma has since passed on, so it was a nice way for us to connect with her memory.

Up the hill, we found a line to get into Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. It was a hot day, the line was long, and we had little time, so we didn’t go inside the building. Instead, we took in the views. Again, to my American eyes, the entire city looked like something out of a storybook. Pictures don’t do it justice.

Our next stop was a visit to the Père Lachaise cemetery. It was much more quiet there than in other parts of the city. Although it is the world’s most visited cemetery, it was calm. Tall trees cast shade on the countless rows of mausoleums and narrow brick roads that looked like each brick had been meticulously placed by hand.

Once we felt rested enough, we set off in search of a French bakery. I’d been to bakeries before, but the French do it different, and they do it right. After just one trip, I will never go to France again without stopping at a bakery. Rows and rows of fresh, expertly made bread and pastries line shelves with glass fronts, and the scent is both comforting and exciting. We bought a croissant. It was so good that I can’t eat croissants in the States anymore. Once you know what they’re meant to taste like, there is no going back. Admittedly, I have found a few bakeries in the US that do an okay job, but the experience just isn’t the same.

Then came a highlight of the trip, a visit to the home of Victor Hugo. His house was beautiful. With tall ceilings, wooden floors, and large glass windows that opened into a shared park/courtyard, it’s easy to see how an author of Hugo’s caliber would have found the place a pleasant site to call home. I specifically remember his bedroom. It was dark, and not just in light levels. The walls and drapes were deep, dark colors that seemed to eat up all light.

Next, we went for a walk along the river and saw the Notre Dame Cathedral. Unfortunately, it was still closed from the fire a few years ago. I distinctly remember walking over a bridge and finding a small jazz group. Somehow, that overshadowed the cathedral. I wanted to stay and listen, but the summer heat and humidity kept my enjoyment to a few short minutes.

After a few more hours of roaming the Parisian streets, we decided to look for the most French-looking restaurant and order the most French meal we could think of. We ended up finding a nice Parisian-style place that was open to the street and found a seat. To our delight, we found exactly what we’d been looking for. We decided to share an appetizer of escargot, and I was pleasantly surprised by the flavor. It was very similar to having garlic bread before a meal. Our main course was the fabled ratatouille with a chocolate mousse for dessert.

We weren’t sure what to do after dinner, so I pulled out my phone and started googling nearby places. I remembered the jazz from earlier and decided to look for a nice jazz club. As it turned out, there was one just down the road from us. But this wasn’t just any jazz club. Oh no, it was so much more. Upon entering, we discovered exactly what we’d expected: low tables, a smokey haze, and some candles. Then they showed us the staircase to the real club.

A tight stone spiral staircase wound down at a steep angle and took us beneath the building. Our eyes widened as we walked through an archway and found a large room at the bottom of the stairs. The band hadn’t arrived yet, but the space was a work of art. Turns out, this club used to be a Freemason hide out hundreds of years ago. The masonry was ancient and incredible to witness.

Red lights bounced off the gray stone, and wooden benches lined the room. Every seat was full by the time the jazz band arrived. When the band started playing, people left their seats behind and danced. We watched with smiles until we built up the courage to have a go at it ourselves. That will forever be one of my favorite memories. We danced to a Parisian jazz version of “Ain’t Got No Home,” and, in that moment, the world outside vanished. We were the stars of our own show, the main characters of our personal novel.

The only problem was the heat. The underground space didn’t have any air conditioning; it was summer, and there were at least a hundred people crammed down there. After one dance, we were sweaty, exhausted, and hours away from our hotel. Finally, we gave in and decided we might as well visit the Eiffel Tower.

I didn’t expect much, but when we came up from the metro, my jaw dropped. I don’t care how many times you’ve seen pictures of the structure; if you’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower in person, you’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower. It is a wonder of human accomplishment and is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

It was midnight when we arrived, but the crowds were still strong. We fought our way to the tower’s base, and as I looked up, I remembered something. It was the story of a scientist who tried to invent his own parachute. He’d tested it several times and felt it was safe enough to try out himself. His chute never opened, and he plummeted to his death, likely dying near the very spot I stood.

That’s an odd memory to dig up right before going up the tower, but it didn’t worry me. Instead, it made me more excited. Knowing that piece of history made me feel more connected to the place. Standing under the tower wasn’t good enough, though. We wanted to go up it. We talked about whether we wanted to take the stairs or the elevator, but when we arrived, we learned that the elevators had just closed for the night. My wife and I looked at each other and smiled. At least climbing the stairs made a better story.

There are 674 steps to the second floor of the Eiffel Tower. The top floor can’t be reached by staircase, but the second floor is plenty high. We could see all of Paris from up there, and there was a nice breeze to cool us off. We spent a good long while admiring the views. I can’t say this enough: if you’ve never actually experienced the Eiffel Tower, do it. It’s beyond imagination.

Paris is a city of romance and beauty, and we made every second count. As we rode the train home, we crossed the river and looked back at the Eiffel Tower one last time. The site was surreal. I’ve never seen such a picturesque moment. The flashing lights danced around the tower and reflected off the river. It was a site that inspired dreams and perfectly capped our day in Paris.

You might think that traveling to France for a single day in Paris wouldn’t be enough time. In a lot of ways, you’d be right, but the time restraint pushed us to do things we never would have done otherwise. Even when we found our map and started making plans, we never knew what would come next. Several times, we saw something that looked cool and sought it out. Sometimes, having less time makes you do more.

I’d love to go back one day and spend several days or even weeks in France, but this trip is one I will always treasure. Not just because of the excitement and beauty but because of the lesson it taught me. We can’t always understand things as they truly are by reading and watching documentaries. Oftentimes, we need to experience things for ourselves.

You don’t even have to go to France; many things are waiting to be discovered, some of them nearby. No matter the case, you can’t learn more if you don’t take a risk and explore the world around you. It reminds me that the world is a wonderful place. So wonderous that you can spend your whole life exploring and still barely tap into its treasures.