Canadian French
TL;DR – Canadian French is not equal to Parisian French.
Arriving in Paris was interesting. Working off of no sleep, I jumped into a cab, where I heard the radio news speaking about a brutal murder.
After that, I arrived at my charming AirBnb in the 3rd arr. and promptly took a nap. After which, I was ravenous and set out to find food.
Restaurants don’t open until about 7:30-8, so I had some time to kill. I did groceries for the week and found a delicious pizza spot.
Everyone I spoke to, from my taxi driver, stay host, grocery clerk and the water all answered me in English when they heard my Canadian accent. Am I fully bilingual? Yes. Did they understand what I was saying? Absolutely. And yet everyone kept speaking to me in English.
I just kept responding in French. It was still a good day, but it shook me just enough to make me hesitate.
Why do they have to be so rude about it? 😂
…
Sometimes, you just have to get drunk on cheap champagne and miss your friends.
My first full day in Paris, I walked the whole city. Okay maybe not the whole city, but 35k steps got me pretty far. My feet took me from my stay in the 3rd arr, through to Montmartre, and finally the Eiffel tower, I feel like I did my due diligence with exploring the place by foot.
I ate delicious pastries, indulged in amazing cocktails and even stopped by a vintage camera shop, whose owner gave me a battery for my dead film camera when I told him my woes about my canadian accent. He insisted I take it from him, stating that he hoped rude parisians weren’t going to taint my stay.
I bought a bottle of champagne and a baguette before settling in near the Eiffel Tower. Amidst endless couples (Bonus: a proposal ) and friend groups, I let myself miss my friends.
Solo travel can be rough. It can be isolating at times and I had been coming up on two months on my own – on my very first bout of solo travel no less. So I took some time to miss my people and wish they were sharing the view with me. I reminisced and drank to them, toasting their friendships with bubbles and bread.
I stumbled into a nearby restaurant and got myself a croque madam before I took the metro back to my Airbnb and crashed harder than I have in a while.
Sometimes, I forget that missing people means I have something to lose. And what a beautiful to be able to say.
…
Days like this are pure magic.
I woke up and strolled over to the Tuileries Garden for a watercolour class. We shared a coffee and a croissant, painted, and basked in the cool October weather for a relaxing morning.
Afterward, I crossed the Seine for a croissant-making class, spending three delightful hours with amazing people crafting delicious pastries. Our chef was exceptional and explain each step in depth. I still have the recipe but he warned me that the butter and flour we have access to in Canada is mediocre, so I would have a hard time replicating the results at home.
With bags full of buttery pains au chocolat, we decided to explore Paris together for the rest of the evening. We wandered along the Seine, shared gelato, and walked the Champs-Élysées, parting ways at the Arc de Triomphe.
Almost two years later, I still keep in touch with them on social media. In fact, Oman is now on my travel list so I can visit her!
…
The only thing on my agenda that day was a rendezvous at a park by 9 PM to meet strangers for a bar-hopping adventure.
Waking up, I turned to Google to map out the rest of my day. To my delight, I was a mere five-minute walk from the Picasso Museum. Although I’d always admired Picasso’s work, I knew little about his life. So, I spent my morning immersing myself in his world, discovering the controversies, unusual muses, and complicated family relationships that shaped his art.
After a people watching cafe visit complete with a delectable croissant, I eventually found dinner at a beautiful restaurant. After that, it was off to my little adventure.
If you know me, you know how much I adore mixology and hidden gems. My perfect night involves exploring speakeasies in a new city, and this tour promised just that. Paris is famed for its secret bars, and I was thrilled to join the group.
We visited three amazing bars, each specializing in different spirits. My favorite was tucked behind the kitchen of an upscale restaurant. We must have looked crazy walking through, but the moment I stepped into that dream bar, it was all worth it. Raunchy decor, mezcal and tequila cocktails, and a take-home, colour-in menu—it was perfection. I ordered two drinks immediately.
By night’s end, I had made wonderful friends. We discovered that while Paris kitchens close at 2 AM, the bars remain open. So, we kept the party going until 4 AM, when I finally stumbled back to my Airbnb, conveniently just a ten-minute walk away.
A day filled with art, booze, and good company—what more could a girl want?
Versailles
I didn’t have a plan for this day – for most of my stay in Paris actually. Nursing a bit of a hangover, I decided to brave the train out of the city and visit the famous palace of Marie Antoinette.
With a stop for breakfast at a cute coffee shop along the way, I spent my train ride reading a deliciously smutty book. Buying my tickets onsite meant I picked a slot for my self-guided tour and had as much time as I liked to explore the gardens.
The opulence was overwhelming. Every room has gilded details, intricate mouldings and so. Much. Art.
Meandering the palace and the grounds with my self-guided audio was the perfect choice for me. I got to stroll, take it all in and picture what life had been like living in the grandeur.
Versailles hosts an annual ball where you can rent gowns, and dance the night away. Full of artists, performances not to mention, extravagant food and drinks. If I ever find myself back at this palace, I think it would be well worth attending! Would you consider attending the ball?
Giverny
When I heard I could visit Monet’s home and his famous gardens, I jumped at the chance. The trains and shuttle didn’t align, so I got to Giverny early.
A little groggy, I made my way through the small paths of the garden, meandering and taking in every flower. Morning mist played through petals as I sipped the last of my
Coffee.
Walking through his home felt surreal. It was surrounded by his art, and I could see precisely why he’d become a master at his craft.
The haven he’d built with his family is unmatched. It’s quiet and beautiful, and the light is dreamy no matter the time of day.
I could’ve basked there for hours, but after another cappuccino, I went to a small museum down the street. There, I learned more about his life and watched his work come to life on a screen.
But I also almost didn’t make it back to the city. The shuttle to the train was late—painfully late. Four of us were looking around, panicked. If we missed the train, it would be the last out of the city. We all frantically tried to order a cab.
There was only one available, and he thankfully agreed to take us all. We cramped into his tiny car, piled on top of each other, and laughed the whole way to the station. With a healthy tip, we waved our driver farewell and ran to the platform where we had just caught the train. The four of us scrambled to find seats, and we all took a collective breath once we’d made it.
It was chaotic to finish the day visiting such a serene place. But I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.
Paris
I was at the end of my first two-month stint of solo travel, and I knew I wanted to be able to find hidden gems and explore the city that’s so famous.
Making my way back to Montmartre for some art, I braved the crowds and spoke to a wonderful woman who helped me better understand watercolour and gave me supply recommendations.
I then visited the Louvre. It was amazing but far too crowded to be enjoyable, so I cut my tour short and left because I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people.
Thankfully, I’d been passing a circus on my way home every day, so I figured I would look at the cost—I had no plans for my evening. It turned out it was about 12 euros, so I bought myself a seat. After a quick dinner of the leftover groceries in my fridge, I made my way down the street with no expectations of the circus.
It turns out it’s one of the oldest circuses in the world. Founded in 1852, it has a rich history. I had a wonderful time, treating myself to cotton candy and some peanuts while marvelling at the performers’ capabilities.
I went home and packed, content with my stay in the city of love.
