Bonjour, Paris!

Any country who's airline forgoes the overdone soft drinks and dry roasted peanuts combo in favor of complimentary champagne and petite baguettes is clearly getting an A in my book. But it didn't just stop after landing; the magic continued long after I made my way through customs, out the baggage claim and onto the RER.

On the RER I was surprised to find that every able bodied Frenchman was willing to help me lug my heavy bags up onto the train and point me in the right direction upon my arrival. Where did this myth about the French being snide and unhelpful come from anyway? Clearly not Paris, where I was informed in a very heavy French accent that "helping people looks cool, very chic," by one man who helped me carry a bag up a flight of stairs at a Metro station that was clearly not wheelchair accessible.

But don't go thinking that these RERs are only full of kind Frenchmen. As if it wasn't enough to take in the Parisian countryside on my way into the heart of the city, Paris decided to treat me with some local entertainment. That's right -- a woman got on the train and literally sang an aria out loud. God I love this place.

After grabbing my key, loading a monthly Metro pass onto my card, and sighing in exhaustion, I finally made it up to my apartment in the 3rd arrondissement. The apartment surprised me in that it has a lot more character than I expected for a building that basically acts as dorm residence for students most of the year. The was have this strange texture that vaguely reminds me of finger-painting -- only it's all a solid white. The curtains to my street-view window are held back by tiny fleur de lys shaped hooks and my room's furniture seems to be an advertisement for France itself (I have one red couch, one blue couch, and white walls, you get the picture). Additionally, dark wood is left exposed on both walls and ceilings in a way that is much more charming than I could possibly describe. And the hard wood floors make it a room any dancer in their right mind would envy.

After rearranging the place so that I could position my desk as close to the window as I could get it, I met my roommate, Taylor. We talked about little things we wanted to improve for the apt. and how both of us packed way too much stuff as per usual. Since Taylor had to catch her professors later tonight for a night tour of Paris, we decided to catch dinner at a local eatery to celebrate our arrival.


We quickly found a place that was serving happy hour specials (which in Paris seems to start at 5 and go till 10 at most places) and grabbed a 3 course prix fixe meal a piece. I chose a pina colada followed by the French onion soup (which has to have been the best French onion soup I've ever had in my life, but no surprises there), a chicken served with herbs from provence and roasted potatoes, and a crepe with nutella for dessert. I don't think I finished anything besides the pina colada even though I desperately wanted to keep eating. I think I would have been fine with just the French onion soup, but this was a celebration dinner, so I'm glad we sprung for the feast.

Two and 1/2 hours later, we managed to squeeze out of the restaurant just before Taylor had to meet her professors. As I walked the short distance back to our apartment, I felt rain on my face and as I looked up at the haussmannian architecture surrounding me, I really felt like I was walking home. My stomach full and my heart ablaze, I waded through the newly forming puddles into my room to put my feet up and thought, "this is the beginning of a beautiful romance."



Total Damage:

RER ticket: 9 EUR
Mothly Metro Pass: 56 EUR
3 course prix fixe: 15 EUR
1 HH pina colada: 5 EUR
Tip for singer on the train: 1 EUR