The emotion of Paris is caught in the romance of pictures, the poetry of the written word. It has been the backdrop muse for countless artists. Each image is an adventure and a story, a few of which I will share.
A typical summer day of shadow and light. Ethan, my brother, and his fiancé came to visit, and after doing headstands under tower, we walked back by way of the Seine.
Vegan fair! On my way home from Canal Saint-Martin, I came across this vegan goodness in Place de la Republique. Waiting in line at Hank's Vegan food truck, a girl in angel wings gave me a coupon for a free burger. Another reminder that this is the lifestyle I want in my future.
In the Grand Palais, a dream made of glass.
French cuisine is easily one of the finest in the world. At the most basic level, the ingredients taste cleaner, closer to the earth. I had only a handful of mediocre meals in an entire month eating out at Michelin rated restaurants, cafes, street food vendors and bars. One of my favorite meals was this one with my new, incredible friend Jasmine, at La Chambre des Oiseaux.
Shopping! Yes, I indulged in a little retail therapy in this land of boutiques and runway-sidewalks. After looking at the same clothes for the past however many months of traveling, it felt wonderful to wear different colors and textures. Also, I just couldn't wear hole-ridden lululemon stretchy pants around this chic city.
Ethan and Catie in front of Notre Dame. I love how much joy these two get from life and from other. He is a good one, my wise, kind brother.
Paris has the best Metro. It is amazing and actually gives me a sense of satisfaction to use it.
What is art? Well if you want to begin to find the answer, Paris would be one of a few places to start. Countless museums, artistic landmarks and galleries dot the map. I particularly loved the Rodin, the Pompidou, and the Quai Branly museums.
Photobombing my own picture.
Seeing double outside the Quai Branly.
Street art is EVERYWHERE. When searching for tours of the old sewers in Paris, I came across Underground Paris, a small art company that gives tours of some more recognizable Parisian street art. It was on the tour I met Jasmine, and we essentially didn't stop hanging out until a week later when she left to go back to the states. This mural is replaced every two weeks, the wall owned by a street art aficionado.
Paris walking.
Ethan, Catie and I committed one of the biggest faux pas of my entire life at the famous Pere Lachaise cemetery. Running late that morning, we grabbed a picnic of sandwiches on our way to the cemetery, figuring the tombs wouldn't mind if we found a quiet place to sit and eat lunch. Finding a relatively out of the way patch of grass after visiting Oscar Wilde, we sat down to eat. It wasn't three bites into my sandwich when a kindly lady informed us in French that we were sitting in the Garden of Remembrance, and that it wasn't light colored dirt, but ashes we were sitting on. Human ashes. Oh shit. I don't think the three of us will ever forget that crazy experience, and the only response we could muster, embarrassed laughter and out loud apologies to the dead we had been sitting on.
One of my favorite pastimes in Paris was park lounging. I took afternoon sun naps in at least seven parks or gardens, and spent hours reading, writing, people watching and daydreaming. These were the places and times I was most peaceful.
June 28th was the Gay Pride Parade in Paris. Despite gray skies, it was a banner of rainbow fabulousness love across the city. It is ironic that my time in Paris has been so unabout romantic falling in love. There have been no candlelit dinners, make out sessions at the Eiffel Tower, or handholding down quiet cobblestone streets. Instead, I have tried to hold myself in my own hand, and come closer to that self-love.
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