I probably should have known it wasn’t going to be a conventional weekend when, as we drove away from Amsterdam and towards Paris, Marcus turned to me and said, “I could use a beer and a sausage.” We certainly weren’t on our way to Germany though.
Confession: I did not see the Eiffel Tower. At least not in full view. At one moment I saw the top of it peeking over the rooftops, but that was it.
Instead of being a proper tourist introduction to a city, my time was more of an experience. Experience #1: how to find a parking spot on a Friday night. Experience #2: how to eat a baguette that looks like a machete. Experience #3: how to run down the steps of Sacre Coeur and find a quiet cafe asap. Experience #4: how to forget my favorite sunglasses somewhere. Experience #5: how to eat a wonderfully gluttonous meal. Experience #6: how to arrive at the Arc de Triomphe precisely at closing time. Experience #7: how to ride a bike through Paris (surprisingly easy). Experience #8: how to ride the metro.
What surprised me most was how familiar the city was. It seemed like a mix of Rome, Brussels and Berlin in one. With a hint of Prague. It was a fun weekend trip, but I think I learned my lesson that new cities deserve more than 48 hours. More photos to come…
The carousel in Montmartre, at the foot of the steps leading to Sacre Coeur.
Behind the crowd of people, Sacre Coeur.
The cute nook tucked in a back alley, which was the only parking spot available on Friday night.
Art on the wall of Terminus Nord, which served the most decadent meal I have ever eaten.
Terminus Nord, a seafood restaurant opposite Gare du Nord.
The Arc du Triomphe on a Saturday night.