It all started with an episode of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (season 2). I was in bed, a cold dreary night in December while Sam was at work. Likely, I was snacking on a sleeve of cookies. Hey, I’m setting the scene for you! Midge Maisel steps out of a taxi onto a Parisian street. Her father, Abe, banters with the cab driver about the price of the fare. Her mother arrives later in the scene, beret wearing and bagette bearing. She is light, she is at ease and she is flawlessly the romantic French woman. I started googling flights absently. I found a great deal...and the rest is history. We were booked to Paris in a month. Sam, being very accustomed to this being my method of travel planning, embraced the spirit of the evening.
We left Dublin on Saturday January 12th. Arriving in Paris that evening, it was evident that it was Sam’s first trip outside of the U.S. beyond the move to Dublin purely based on the smile you couldn’t for love or money wipe off his face.
After a chaotic moment in a train station, we found our hotel (thanks Mom!) and dropped our suitcase -- we’d both opted to bring warm, functional clothes, thankfully! -- and headed out into the night. I’d prebooked us a Siene cruise the day before (10 euro online, 14 at the door!) so after a visit to Notre Dame...
and the purchase of a beret, a sampling of Orangina and crepe we were on the water!
It’s something close to magic to witness someone seeing the Eiffel Tower for the first time. It’s pure magic to witness Sam see it.
I have once bought the novelty photo from a tourist trap; it was in Minnesota in the summer of 2017. Jack and I had taken the view of America virtual reality tour. I was flying high and wanted to commemorate that moment. When we stepped off the chilly barge that evening in Paris, onto the chilly embankment I surprised Sam by purchasing my second ever novelty photo. It was refreshing to have a photo of us that wasn’t a selfie...and tell me you would pass up a photo of someone *this* happy.
After our boat tour, the reality that it had been a long day hit like a sack of bricks and this influenced a dinner choice like it never would again. I’ll just say, twelve euro for two cokes did not go down well. But it taught us to shop around when looking for dining options. Also, thankfully no where else proffered the ketchup before we’d even ordered anything so that was a once off too.
The next morning, Sunday January 13th we woke early and headed to City Hall to collect Sam’s museum pass.
Which promptly reminded me I’d forgotten my Irish passport at the hotel. So back we went, and then onwards to the Jewish History and Culture Museum.
After the Jewish Museum, hungry again we found our way back to Notre Dame and from there to the gaggle of restaurants I’d frequented when in Paris solo in August 2017. After selecting a three course lunch for 10 euro each, Sam delightedly sponsored wine with our meal and declared he wanted wine with every meal from thereon. No more twelve euro Coke’s for us, Garcon. Only your finest five euro red, please.
Sam’s first attempt at French Onion Soup concluded, two hours later we made our way to the Muse D’Orsay. Arguably, my favorite museum for its scale and its collection of Art Nouveau furniture, which I took Sam around and insisted if we ever won the lottery, we’d split it between first edition comics and outfitting our no doubt chic European apartment in Art Nouveau furniture.
And perhaps unexpectedly but very pleasantly I’d arranged to meet a fellow traveler, Chuck, and his colleague Michelle for coffee. Very kindly they treated us to coffee and hot chocolates in the cafe of the D’Orsay behind one of the massive front facing clocks.
One of Sam’s bucket list things to eat, was a macaroon. Tick that off! After the Muse D’Orsay we wandered and hit up a Laduree, where our single vanilla and salted caramel macaroons seemed very slight behind the order ahead of us of almost twenty macaroons in a pink and lavender box, complete with tissue paper. It didn’t dampen our spirits; Sam, on his first bite, remarked “It’s like ice cream, in a cookie!”.
Our wander avec macaroons ended in another of Sam’s bucket list food items: fondue. We’d returned to our neighborhood from lunch and tempted by the offer of free wine for “being first tonight!” and the ability to split one fondue for two (most places were exclusively one-for-one which when budgeting, can be killer).
The second glasses of red we ordered after we’d finished our “free cocktail” added to the evening’s ambiance. So did when a dozen American college students came in with their chaperones on an organized trip, and our friend the jovial French restauranteur who had co-erced to fondue and free wine gleefully bought a bag of frozen snails from his neighbor on the street. Escargot!
Monday January 14th started at the Mecca for Art Students: The Louvre.
Following our three hour jaunt around the biggest museum in the world -- during which Sam must have taken 10,000 photos -- we treated ourselves to French McDonalds. Tres fancy!
Then it was time for the real treat -- Angelina! Sam had been trying hot chocolate’s around the place but I’d kept Angelina a secret until we walked in and no word of a lie, he said upon entering the dainty, porcelain serving and chandelier lit cafe “Oh, good thing I wore my khakis today!”.
You could have rolled us out of the place in the end, but it was worth every drop. To burn off the solid ten pounds of chocolate in our guts, we walked to the Musee De L'Orangerie and discussed impressionism like the pretentious Liberal Arts graduates we are before heading to the Arc de Triumph.
And then, because our legs didn’t hate us enough yet, we walked to the Eiffel Tower as well. I was shocked to see the now necessary bullet proof glass surrounding the base of the monument.
Oh, and Sam almost got scammed in the “bracelet scam” that I first heard of in 2010 when I visited Paris with People to People. Honestly, I’d stopped believing it was real until a man in the park around the Tower emerged from the shrub, tried to tie a friendship bracelet on poor confused Sam and I grabbed his coat, yanking him away.
With our legs finally giving out, we hopped a Metro and blessedly made it back to Notre Dame in a few minutes. Exhausted, it was still too early for dinner so we did the next best option...found an Irish pub, in Paris. We’re marketing students; brand consistency is 101.
A pint (or two) later we shuffled back out onto the street, and once again were fooled by a fast talking Frenchman who despite Sam’s insistence for “Muscles?!” for me, seated us in a restaurant which absolutely did not serve muscles. But they did give us free wine again, however, this time I let Sam enjoy my share as the pints had done their job nicely. It was in this restaurant that Sam first tried raclette. After the other worldly experience he mumbled something to be about never being able to eat cheese again, but having enjoyed his last dance with it in Paris.
Tuesday January 15th was our last day in Paris. I am putting in writing now that Sam has since requested next time I give him the option to pick a 9pm flight that I do not do so. We had ever intention of heading to Sacre Coeur, even made it to the Metro station platform. Then two trains crammed full of people passed us and after a quick five minute “wait...you’re too tired to enjoy that too?!” conference we instead decided to go to some comic book shops, do some last minute shopping and maybe sneak in a crepe or two.
By Tuesday at midnight we were safely back in bed in Dublin, exhausted but content.
