French Connection: The Streets of Paris

Paris is an enigma in every possible way, where does one start? The city of love, fashion and art to name a few. It is the epitome of sophistication and architectural history. Paris was the first city I traveled to where everything I imagined it would be, it was. All expectations are fulfilled, there is no need for exaggeration whatsoever...

I arrived in Paris tired after a long flight from Durban, South Africa. As I got in a taxi and headed for the hotel I would be staying at, I looked out the window like a child. With wide eyes and a thrilling eagerness beyond what I've ever felt before, all of a sudden I wasn't so tired anymore. There were two things I managed to notice on my short taxi trip, however:

1. French people love to hoot continuously and drive extremely fast. This made me feel kind of at home with our taxi's in South Africa that use a hooter more as a communication device than anything else. Needless to say I held on for dear life while the taxi driver swerved and darted through traffic to take me and one other very frightened Canadian to our destination.

2. I was so surprised by the amount of graffiti everywhere I looked. For a first world country with so much rich history in its iconic buildings, it was kind of disappointing to see how many individuals disrespected the areas with grotesque and meaningless graffiti.

I got to the hotel slightly early (thanks to my mad taxi driver) and checked into my room to wait for the rest of the group I was traveling with. Once I met up with them we decided to venture around Paris for the first time before our tour guide arrived that evening. For someone who generally can't keep her mouth shut, Paris left me speechless. I didn't know where to look first, and there was just so much intricate detail to take in. Our group (ranging from Australians to Americans) could not look more like tourists if we tried, cameras at the ready and fingers pointing in every direction.

We walked along the bustling Parisian streets, peering inquisitively into some of the shops and taking in the unique smells of the little markets. What I noticed in this moment was that I couldn't stop looking up. I had never seen such beautiful tall buildings that weren't just office blocks. A couple living six stories up were sitting having drinks on their balcony, which was adorned with beautiful bright flower pots and woven wrought iron bars. Some buildings had roof top gardens splayed out on top, and others had signs and lamp posts that looked like they belonged on a post card. I lost count of the street cafes peeking out from under white and red awnings to the point where I didn't know where one started and another ended.  We couldn't help but order a signature French crepe with a dollop of rich Nutella inside. Europeans are obsessed with Nutella! They have them everywhere in huge jars, and on everything you could imagine.

Finally, after walking for what I can imagine was two hours, we decided to stop at a small authentic looking wine bar. As we walked in all we could see were dark wooden racks of different types of wine with the most interesting labels and shapes. The lady behind the bar was seemingly disgruntled at the fact that we couldn't string together a sentence of French to place our drinks order. She kept repeating 'rouge! rouge!' with her index finger pressed to her thumb and a frustrated frown. On top of this, it was my first time using Euro as a currency, and I was also trying to work out how much I was willing to spend on my first glass of French wine.

When we had finally all placed our orders (with great difficulty) we sat down to enjoy our drinks, and watch the growing crowds of people heading home after what I presumed was a day at work. I say that because I can't imagine going to work in a place like Paris. It seems only fitting to sit at a cafe reading a good book and drinking a bottomless coffee all day, admiring this fairy tale city. I noticed how most French women lived up to their stereotype as very well-dressed, usually wearing heels of some kind. I was suddenly aware of our disheveled appearances which I can only describe as the 'I've just been on a 14 hour flight' look.

That evening we took it easy and enjoyed a delicious French meal (with some snails of course!) back at the hotel. Overwhelmed with the small taste of Paris I had had that day, I was anxious to sleep so that I could continue the rest of my intoxicating adventure. x