Falling in Love with Paris

As my November trip to Paris drew closer I was nervously forced to confront a secret that I’d managed to keep hidden from fellow travellers and culture buffs alike. It seemed unacceptable as a travel enthusiast and indeed much less so as a professional travel consultant, to admit that although I had been to Paris before I had not fallen in love with it in the way that the rest of the world seem to have done.

In fact, I did not take to it at all. Feel free to position yourself on the edge of your seat for my theory as to why this was. My apathy towards Paris, I believed, likely stemmed purely from the hype that surrounds the city itself. Worldwide, Paris is held as the very epitome of class and glamour, of romance, decadence and creativity. It is sold as a concept; even earlier this year in small town North Carolina I came across a Parisian themed bakery capitalising on the glamour and image of the French capital some 4,000 miles away by selling petite faux-French delicacies and huge, unsightly Eiffel Tower shaped cakes. So understandably, when I first arrived years ago, bright eyed and bushy tailed, I had dreams of the glitz and charm that I had been brought up on and my expectations were not met. This time around too, wandering around lost in the cold, fumbling with a tattered map and struggling with GCSE level I French, began to conclude that maybe Paris just wasn’t for me. There are no scenes in Sex and the City of Carrie Bradshaw trying – and failing – to order a croissant at the Gare Du Nord! But then, somewhere around the Diptyque concession at Galleries Lafayette, working on smelling every candle they sell one by one against the backdrop of a 70ft Christmas tree, I realised that it was possible I was just being miserable (stranger things have happened.) I was actually having a great time. As my amblings continued, the perfectly autumnal day served to be the ideal setting in which to commence my love story with the city of love. You honestly couldn’t have written a more exquisite backdrop with warm hues and crisp leaves quivering and crunching underfoot. Navigating the city was simple. I wandered past one world famous landmark after another with only a minimum number of wrong turns and mastered the metro with unbelievable ease. On my first visit I had found Parisians quite rude. (I know that London can be no better during rush hour, but twenty something years living in the English capital means I now find busy, rude Londoners almost endearing – sympathetic solidarity perhaps!) But when being on foreign soils, I found being dismissed rather disarming. However, this time with a smile on my face, everybody was friendly and helpful and I began to find the clichés I’d once avoided remarkably satisfying. I ordered hot chocolate from Angelina’s (I cannot recommend this enough, it’s molten, velvet, dense, creamy, chocolaty perfection!), I spent half a month’s wages on Laudreé macarons (although I’m told Pierre Herme is now the Parisian bakery– I feel it would be a fantastic project on any Paris itinerary to do a fair, comparative taste test!). I walked up the many, many steps to the Sacré Coeur, incredibly beautiful and twinkly at dusk, with an even more beautiful and twinkly view out over Paris, and I wandered back down through Montmartre to the Moulin Rouge and the shiny, sleazy (that one I had remembered correctly!) surrounding streets. My advice to anyone travelling to Paris, or anywhere in fact, would be to not pay too much attention to what the rest of the world seem to think! Take the unabashed praise with a pinch of salt and largely disregard the criticisms from grumpy people like me! The only way to really make your mind up is to head out with an open mind and have your own adventure! The sooner the better so you can join the debate!