Our Parisian Romance
Oh, Paris. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this oft-romanticized French city, and was wary of getting my hopes up. But then, after a nearly 5 hour train trip from our mountainous abode, we landed in the city and began the lovely process of falling in love.
We lucked out weather-wise for an early-February trip, putting up with the occasional misty-cloudy-rainy weather that eventually turned into sunny blue skies and an occasional breeze. Right off the bat, Freddy was committed to showing me all the best of Paris by foot, so we hoofed it from the train station, bags in hand, along the Seine and to Angelina’s for a hot chocolate date.
Filled to the brim with steaming, luscious cocoa, we returned to the city streets and up above the river towards our hotel in the lower 9th. There, we caught our breath and dropped our bags before heading north to check out SoPi, a delightful neighborhood with bustling bakeries, boucheries, sustainable grocery stores and small restaurants and boutiques. Heaven. A bit on the early side — the French sure do enjoy a late afternoon coffee! — we meandered around for a bit scoping out potential dinner spots before settling into Classique for cocktails and oysters. Then, we squeezed into an itty bitty table quite serendipitously at OMA, a Korean-French restaurant with a small menu — raw marinated shrimp, kimchi, crispy pork and so much more deliciousness to choose from. After dinner, Freddy pulled me up the hill to Sacre Coeur for a breathtaking view of the city lights at night. We held hands all the way home down the many stairs and winding streets back to our hotel.
Saturday, we awoke with determination to see as much of the city as humanly possible, and find a great cup of coffee and some sort of breakfast to kick off our adventure. Oh, how the indoor walkways caught be by such wondrous surprise! Bookshops and art galleries and cafes as the morning light streamed in through glass ceilings across the marble patterned floors. Pure delight as we followed the main road through Montmartre through these hidden pathways.
Always one to test my ability to go for as long as possible without food in my stomach, Freddy encouraged a walk towards Les Halles and finally agreed to stop at a hip looking coffee shop called Motors Coffee; I was surprised to start my first full day in Paris with banana bread instead of a croissant… but damn, it was GOOD banana bread and a very delicious matcha latte. Freddy wouldn’t shut up about the peanut butter banana bread the whole rest of the weekend.
Watching Paris slowly wake up as the sun began to dip its way down through the city’s streets felt like slow-burning magic. As the light slowly spread its fingers onto the cafe fronts and sidewalks, we walked and walked, taking in the sites step by step. A lady working on a manuscript in a cafe window along the Seine. A waiter pausing against a cafe exterior for a smoke break. Old men sun basking with a newspaper on a Jardin du Luxembourg bench, half asleep as their grandchildren tumble beneath their feet.
My banana bread energy was beginning to fade, so I pulled my singular “touristy” card for the day and steered us towards Les Deux Magots for a late (small) lunch before our venture west towards the Eiffel Tower. A croque madame and pate + toast later, we were off to catch Paris’ most famous views. A long, long walk — and serendipitous passing of Freddy’s sister’s old apartment — later and we did the Eiffel Tower thing! Tried to capture a few photos of ourselves in front of the classic monument and then steered clear of the crowds to pick up some afternoon Cyril Lignac pastries and sit in a sunny park.
Finally, time to scoot back to the hotel for some much needed rest. For Freddy, a long afternoon nap; for me, an earl grey tea with cream and honey in the hotel lobby with my book.
Finally, the night I’d been anticipating forward to for weeks: dinner hosted by Twenty-Two Club in a private residence overlooking the Jardin de Palais Royale. We headed out, intending to grab a drink as we passed through the 2nd on our way to dinner, but ended up overwhelmed by the options and always too excited to see what could be around the corner to pick a place to stop and sit for a beer. So, we continued our walk all the way towards the palace, explored the area and then made our way up the private staircase towards our hosts and their home-made meal.
What a meal! Glasses of champagne in the candlelight, views of the palace garden out the massive windows, a farm-to-table meal that had us lingering over each delectable spoonful and sipping glass after glass of perfectly paired wine. Meeting new friends and stumbling into old ones around the intimate dining table. It felt like home in a way I didn’t even realize I’d been craving. Thoughtful food and kind people in a beautifully curated setting. We ended the night with a long walk home, wine-drunk and happier than ever.
Sunday arrived much too soon and yet entirely not soon enough. Nursing some slight hangovers and much physical exhaustion from our 18-and-a-bit-mile adventure the day before, we dragged ourselves out of bed for the best treat of getting to grab coffee with a best friend who happened to also be visiting Paris that day. Plus, the Sunday markets were on in full force, and it seemed that each neighborhood had a marché determined to brave the slightly poor morning weather. We carried our bags (and tiredness) with us all morning in anticipation of our early afternoon departure, taking in the views and ultimately scarfing down a massive plate of falafel. Yum.
Finally, it was time to catch the train back home to our beloved pup. Content with a magical weekend away and in agreement that we’d need to plan a return for the spring/summertime, we snoozed our way along the railways back up to our mountain and into the work week ahead.
Love from Leysin,
sbmc
