My favorite flight was probably the longest one because it was the biggest plane, he nicest food, and we had these little pods for sleeping where we could essentially lay all the way down. I probably slept about 3 hours at least on that plane. It was also the smoothest flight. Part of that may have been due to the extremely stiff vodka soda I prepared for myself and the copious amounts of champagne I was served onboard... But whatever. I actually got so "comfortable" that I broke a glass trying to put on my sweatshirt!!! We were still laughing about that one when we got to Paris.
The flight into Paris was a little bumpy at parts but really, really quick.
Once we arrived in Paris and got our bags it was about a 45 minute drive in from the CDG airport to where we were staying. We called on Uber to take us (we've loved Uber here) and a man named Charles who luckily spoke really good English drove us and our six bags in his barely big enough sedan - the whole while saying that we needed to spend more time in Paris (in between quizzing dad about what he did for work in California). He was really quite a character and although we were a little exhausted during the ride he was wonderful.
When we got to the hotel I was on a total high from the 5 or so cups of very strong coffee I'd had on the way in and from the general buzz of the city. Even in the rain Paris felt so bustling. The women are (just like the movies) miraculously thin while they nibble baguettes and coffees, and the men are all well kept in suits and clean, styled hair cuts. The stereotype that the French are assholes is just not true. Everyone (apart from two discerning, austere women at a cafe) have been so, so nice.
When we got to the room Mama wanted to go to bed really bad but dad and I were determined to go out and explore. With a little convincing, Mama rallied and got freshened up to come out with us. It was only about 2pm and our reservation was at 7 so we had some serious time to kill before we could allow ourselves to go to bed. Most all the restaurants in Paris don't open for dinner till 7 which was hard news for sleepy Americans.
Our first stop in town was a little cafe where we had wine and a cheese plate. Mom and dad had some really dry red wines that I didn't care for and I had a SUPER sweet white that I actually ended up really liking. The cheese plate was so so but it gave us the energy we needed to continue exploring. We found a clothing shop that we spent a solid hour in and I got some beautiful black, floral printed leggings that seemed to be made out of some sort of scuba suit material. Mom found a gorgeous burnt orange sweater with a lace detailing on the bottom. To my blissful surprise I fit the sample sizes they had there so trying things on was so fun. Mama also found some fun funky jackets that we're still considering buying later and met a man named Fred who was really nice and helped us try things on. After that, we went to more stores to look around and had fun browsing even if we didn't buy anything.
We had a recommendation from Fred to try out a nearby seafood restaurant so we went to check it out. After finding out it was closed, we went across the street to a little hotel that had a quaint and colorful little bar where we had some REALLY good red wines. The bar tenders were, again, so kind and helped me with some French pronunciation and reassured me that my American way of saying French words was "cute." I told that I feel embarrassed sometimes about the way I say things but they insisted my efforts were appreciated.
From there, we went to a place called Lazare we actually had reservations at but had thought about canceling to have dinner. In a funny twist of fate, when mom tried to cancel the reservation around 5 the woman on the other end hung up on her! So whether we actually had a reservation or not, we were able to get in and sit on a beautiful copper bar for drinks while the kitchen got ready (about an hour till it was 7). We made quick friends with the bartenders who brought us appetizers of baguette with an amazing sea urchin dip of some sort ( Mom tried it!!) along with a truffled Mortadella. God it was good. From there we got seated at a little window table and enjoyed cauliflower with a cured fish, green beans with artichoke, and steak and chicken. The waiter named Pierre was an absolute doll and helped us order by translating what he could. Mama gave out business cards to both of them and asked them to get in touch with her if ever they were even thinking about coming to California. We called a taxi to get home and our friend from the bar (who seemed like a manager) helped us by speaking to our driver in French to help him find us. We left and I gave him the first French double kiss thing of my European experience. I will remember that dinner forever.
Our taxi driver - might have been an uber I'm not quite sure- was 21 and going to school so we had fun making what conversation we could. We got home and I enjoyed looking down onto the wet streets from my fourth floor balcony. The lights reflecting off the pavement and the beautiful, yet againg architecture made me feel like I was on a movie set. All that was missing was a cigarette and some tinny jazz playing in the background.
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