24 Hours In Paris

Notice anything new?

The talented and extra patient Rekita Nicole was the mastermind behind this re-design. I am completely obsessed. She took all of the scattered ideas I was throwing out and turned them into something so very me. I recommend her times a million if you're itching to try something new!

Now, let's talk about Paris.

After Nick left us to go meet up with his parents for a Spanish tour, Lauren and I found ourselves on a 6.5 hour train ride from Barcelona to Paris. We had realized that we'd have about 24 hours there total and despite it being a completely impractical, expensive, and out-of-the-way detour, we decided that Paris must be done.

One Harry Potter movie and nonstop stunning scenery from the French countryside (I felt like I was in the Sound of Music) later, we arrived in Paris.

After checking in to the luxurious Marriott right on the Champs-Elysee {serious Eloise moment}, the two of us navigated the metro system deftly (or something of the like) and appeared in Montmartre. We took our time browsing through souvenir shops and breathing in the sweet, sweet Parisian air.

Until finally, it was time for dinner.

For days, I had convinced Lauren that we must dine at Le Refuge des Fondue. We arrived right after it opened, and snagged quality seats. You guys, this place is a charmer. Years of scribbled messages from visitors all over the world, teeny tiny, and a good amount of quirk, just the way I like it. To get to some seats, people have to get up on chairs and step over tables and really, it's a fun place to spend an evening.

The two options are a beef broth fondue with beef and potatoes or a cheese fondue with lots of bread. Lauren and I chose the beef broth and spent a good two hours mastering our technique. But perhaps the best part... is the wine served in baby bottles.

Don't be discouraged by the surly waiter. I don't think he's a huge fan of Americans, and welp - Americans are frequent visitors, it seemed like. We even managed to befriend two fellow study abroad-ers sitting next to us - two really sweet girls - and traded them a couple of cubes of beef for a couple bites of fromage. Smart deal, yes?

Then, I managed to smash my bottle, clumsy little child that I am. The waiter was not thrilled, but we booked it out of there before he could really reprimand us.

Don't tell him I sent you.

Tummies stuffed and bodies a'waddling, the two of us wandered up, up, up to go and check out the Sacre Coeur. Beautiful church, beautiful views, and a beautiful Eiffel Tower twinkling in the distance.

Ooh, and then upon returning to our hotel, we found a nice concierge and begged him to direct us to the closest crepes.

Although overpriced, it was right across the street and deliciously paired with Nutella and Berthillon ice cream, so there are no regrets there.

The next day, he referred to us as the "dessert girls." I'll take it.

Early in the morning, I dragged Lauren out of bed and made a beeline for Laduree, which was conveniently also across the street. We filled up a goody bag full of macarons and traded bites of each one as we headed towards the metro station. My favorite is actually hidden in the following picture - it was a gorgeous aqua and fittingly named the Marie Antoinette.

At this point, I realized that the sugar overdose needed to be continued - and we used our noses to track down Angelina right after getting off at the Jardin de Tuileries stop. We grabbed a Mont Blanc and some riiiiiiiich hot chocolates and parked ourselves on a ledge between the Louvre and the Jardin, with the giant carousel and the statuesque Eiffel Tower in the distance. 

I remarked, "this is a scene straight out of an indie movie."

If an indie movie was Gossip Girl-in-Paris.

I had visited Paris two months earlier - in the beginning of January - with my family, and was already head over heels for the city. But Paris in the Spring - goodness, it's intoxicating.

Finally realizing that maybe we should fit in some "exercise" before we truly beckoned heart attacks, the two of us started a long walk. First, we wandered along the Seine and towards the Pont des Arts to check out the famous lock bridge.

Then, we continued up the riverside, checking out cool vendors and continuously mentioning how surreal it was that we were here, in Paris. 

As we were gabbing, we glanced up and look! The Notre Dame!

We tracked down Shakespeare & Co., a bookstore that I had desperately wanted to check out. It was just as tiny and lovely and old-book-smelling as I imagined. 

Still on a mission, we hurried along. Except, 'hurried' really meant 'slow-walked.' We meandered around the back of the Notre Dame, which I personally found to be even more stunning than the front - and then all the way to the Marais neighborhood, which I was completely charmed by.

I think we described it as reminiscent of Manhattan, but cuter, cleaner, and more charming.

Can anyone guess where I was marking as my destination?

This, of course:

Best falafel I've ever had, hands down. YUM.

I was preparing myself to be underwhelmed after all the hype around L'As Du Fallafel, but nope. It exceeded every expectation I had, and then some.

Afterwards, we found Colette and stopped inside for a quick look, but speedily realized that everything in the store was a million times over our budget.

So we made our way to the Avenue de l'Opera and tracked down Pierre Herme to pick out a few macarons to nibble on for our train and coach rides back to London and Oxford. I liked that this patisserie was much less touristy than Laduree, I appreciated the more creative flavors, and I admired how more... French... this place seemed.

But actually, contrary to what so many of my friends thought - I actually preferred Laduree. Just a tad.

Then, as the sand in our Parisian hourglass really started disappearing, we went back to the Tuileries metro stop, arrived at the hotel, grabbed our bags, made our way to the Eurostar, enjoyed a ride through the French and English countrysides - and the Chunnel - and emerged for the last time in a really, really long time - in London. 

Lauren and I familiarly went from St. Pancras to Victoria Station aboard the Oxford Tube (on which nibbling of macarons took place) and sat in silence for two hours as we took in the dark highways leading us back to our temporary home for the last time. 

A day of packing and saying goodbye to Oxford was still ahead of us.

But still. We'll always have Paris.