Paris, je t'aime

At the risk of becoming an outcast, I have to be honest: Paris, to me, is a city-break which I treat with suspicion. It's beautiful, yes, but I've found it can easily turn into a tired pastiche of the same old things: the Eiffel Tour, the art stalls by la Seine, les Champs-Élysées, coffee and a croissant in a "typical cafe"... To me, it feels like a soulless visit, and I've often left the French capital feeling no better for having visited it.

However: when two out of three of you want to go, and your friend's dad offers to cover the flights and the hotel with his vast array of loyalty points, it would be an affront to common sense not to see it as an opportunity to rediscover the iconic city. And so, armed with a sense of purpose, c'est parti!

Snails and the French Po po

Day 1

Wake up at 4:30am. Leave the house at 5am. Catch a plane at 7:30am, and an hour later.... Bonjour Paris! Oh the weather was fine, as we stepped out of the plane, into stylish Paris. I fit right in with my travel clothes, dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes, and as the three of us sat in silence on the rickety train into the city centre, I dazed out the window. It felt good to be in a true European city. The brick houses, so summery, so Spanish! And the sky, blue. I was so nostalgic for home, and this felt closer to that than London ever did.

That evening we were meeting LH's cousins for a drink, and I for one felt like I needed a full reset (and a decent scrub) before I could partake in any sort of socialising. So after a hot bath filled with bubbles and smells courtesy of Lush, we left the hotel - 2 hours later - and aimed for the station across the road.

3 hours later, we were still at the same station. What train do we have to catch? Je ne sais pas. What ticket to buy? Je n'ai aucun idée. What is our destination? Somebody help us, please. LH did eventually manage to get us all to her cousins's place: a beautiful house, just outside Paris, filled with art, and music, and freedom. It was a home where people sat around the table and laughed about the madness of the world around them; a place filled with warmth, and cheese.

Once we’d wined and cheesed it was time for the pit-stop nobody wants to admit they want to do, but that everyone does: the Eiffel Tower. After all, what is Paris without that Eiffel shot? And regardless of the fact it's become an iconic symbol of romantic tourism, it does not change the fact that it’s an absolute masterpiece of engineering, and worth admiring.

That evening? Off to dinner. Snails? Oui. Wine? Oui oui. And to end it all, a ride on the French popo's epic motorbikes. Oh là là.

Père Lachaise, le Louvre and Notre-Dame

Day 2

So today we did the thing on my list that I had made everyone swear we'd do if we came to Paris (I can be a demanding travel companion): the Père Lachaise Cemetery. A beautiful garden cemetery, and the largest cemetery in Paris, it was something I was desperate to experience. I've always found cemeteries peaceful and inspiring, and this one promised to be the most inspiring of all.

It was everything I wanted it to be and more. Early on in the day it had started drizzling, and although my first instinct was resentment, it actually ended up being a blessing in disguise. A deserted cemetery greeted us, while the less adventurous hid in warmer cafes, hot drink between their hands, waiting for the skies to clear. Ancient trees with dripping leaves, vibrant moss and a quiet wilderness surrounded me, and I soon lost my two travelling companions amongst the endless expanse of graveyards. There were tombstones, mausoleums, statues, tinted windows. There were graves that were hundreds of years old, some that had caved in, others that were covered in overgrowth… I left a little piece of me behind in that cemetery; I cannot imagine ever tiring of visiting it.

We then swung by the Musee d'Orsay, but a 2-hour queue put us off going into the exhibition L’Ange du Bizarre - but I'd be damned if we didn't try again tomorrow. Then the Louvre, and Notre-Dame - which inevitably led to singing ‘The Bells of Notre-Dame’. I'll be honest: it was a solo performance.

Next up we popped into one of the most deliciously welcoming chocolatier shops I’ve ever seen which was owned and run by LH’s cousins. Not being enough that they’d dined us earlier and were currently letting us guzzle some of their best chocolates, they insisted we have dinner back at their home. It was an excellent choice at that, and we were welcomed into a warm and joyful family, who were happy to have two strangers (and a cousin) join them at the dinner table. Thinking about it now i feel almost nostalgic: in few homes have I felt the immediate comfort and ease I felt here, and they certainly did their best to encourage my love-affair with wine and cheese - something I was very eager to go along with.

Musée D'Orsay and le Sacre Coeur

Day 2

It was time to try our luck again with the queues for Orsay’s L’Ange du Bizarre. On Helen’s (LH’s cousin) advice we turned up at 11am, I more eager than the other two, and gleefully slipped into a queue about a tenth of the size than that of the previous day. Within 20 minutes we were inside - free of charge. Being under 25 has its benefits still.

The exhibition was, as I expected, fantastic. It was essentially a tilt of the hat to fantasy, and it was right up my street. Each piece of art sent my mind spiralling into different stories, and I'd stare at a painting for minutes on end, lost in a saga of daydreams and mysteries. It was maddeningly interesting, and had I had the chance, I would have gone again the following day. Alas, it was not to be.

We left Orsay with heads full of art and daydreams, and into a grey but warmer Paris. Next on our list was le Sacré-Cœr, and we made our way up to the church, increasingly out of breath as we panted our way up to the top of the cobbled mountain where it sits. Half way up the sun broke through the clouds, and as delighted as I was, it meant that by the time we got to the top we were beyond sweaty.

It was terribly beautiful though. And, even better, there was a street-performer there who was out of this world: a footballer, who stood on a pillar and did tricks with a football that I couldn't hope to do on a wide pavement, let alone on a pillar, with a ball, climbing a lamp post, spinning the ball on a pen..... It was incredible. A perfect end to our last full day in the city of romance.

And so, at the end of this all, the question had to be asked: had I fallen in love with Paris? I certainly found a spark in it that I had failed to see on previous visits. Paris is the people, the art, the food; and all the extra tourist pit-stops along the way have their own beauty, if done with the right perspective. I'm glad I came back - and although I still wouldn't put it in my top 10 city destinations, it certainly sin't in my bottom 10 anymore.