Paris; The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love…

Paris , the city of love. I was there to meet a great love of mine, my bestie babe, Bat - a nickname acquired long ago that’s since been etched, permanently, on our skin. Seeing her run along the train platform to envelop me in a big hug remains a highlight of my year. Platonic love is arguably the truest form of love. 

We stayed in the bohemian district, Montmartre, in the cutest (air bnb) apartment, with a private balcony, a tiny lift and the inability to see the ground while peering out the bathroom window from the 6th floor. Our first dinner ended up being buttery crepes full of veg, in a wee place down some stairs, in a cobbled alley, where most tables came with a chess board and the chairs were rickety. It was delicious, as were we as we noticed a few mosquitoes eyeing us up.

I was woken up by Bat, on the hunt for a mosquito that was whining around our heads, luckily -after a few crashes and choice words- she vanquished the beast and we returned to the land of nod.

Coffee & croissants to start our first day, at a lovely, orange fronted cafe. Across from a bar with the coolest bathrooms equipped with disco ball, party lights and music piped into the stalls. After filling our bellies (and emptying our bladders) we set off, heading to the Eiffel Tower, passing through the Louvre courtyard and along the Seine on our way. 

The Eiffel Tower, seen lit up from our titch balcony, an ever present, world famous monument. It never seems to get any closer when you’re walking towards it, always appearing after the next bend but always a few streets away. It is an impressive engineering feat, we admired it from the ground, choosing to sit in the grass, laughing (and moaning) about how long the walk took us - even with the delicious food, green smoothies, coffee & cake stops along the way. 

The red windmill, the moulin rouge, sat on a busy main street littered with strip clubs, casinos and sex shops. And a fantastic Irish bar than changed into a club but still served drinks in glass, including martini glasses. But I digress. I have wanted to see a show at the moulin rouge since I knew it was a real place. I had hoped to go for my 21st but it wasn’t to be, yet a decade later it was still as wonderful as I thought it would be. The film is my most watched, often the background to studying or on when I need a pick me up, or a good cry. The show, and half bottle of champagne, did not disappoint. Crammed in at tiny tables, snug with an Irish couple, with a great view of the stage; dim lighting with lots of red everywhere; strong men standing on each other; gravity defying roller skaters; a tank with snakes (didn’t like that bit - shame for the snakes) that rose from beneath the stage; a contemporary dance by a beautiful couple. And of course lots of can-can dances, boobs and interesting costumes. A night I will always remember. 

Shame about the dinner part though as I don’t think Bat will ever recover enough to eat a poke bowl again (glad we gave ourselves plenty of time), the best bit being the waiter opening sparkling water one handed (with a bottle opener) as it was strangely impressive. My chicken was nothing to write home about, accompanied by veg which consisted of about 3 peppers and some onion. The bread of course was great.

A lazy second morning, followed by pain au chocolat and coffee in the same, orange fronted cafe. More walking, albeit at a slower pace, up a hill, following a crowd, stumbling upon a golden half man protruding from a stone wall. The real find being hot air grates, giving me my Monroe moment and causing bubbles of laughter to erupt from me. It was a moment of pure joy. The cherry blossom trees adding to an already picturesque place, pink petals twirling about and providing the perfect backdrop for a impromptu photoshoot. Walking on with vague directions in mind, finding the Sacré-Cœur, a fence covered in padlocks and hawkers prying on tourists. Give me quiet cobbled lanes any day.  Refuelling on baguettes, dirty chai and a superb apple tart. Big night planned so a quiet couple of hours at our Parisian home, snoozing and hysterically laughing at insta reels and TikToks.

Dressed fancy(ish). Dinner in a place that has (previously had) Michelin stars. Cold asparagus soup served with a ball of whipped cheese and crunchy bits to start, a avocado and chicken burger for mains and a praline mousse cake thing served with carrot ice cream to finish. It was honestly all amazing, especially the soup and ice cream. We were served by an eccentric man who kept sneaking up on Bat, pulling pranks and was sometimes so sarcastic it was hard to tell if he was joking or had actual contempt for us. I wouldn’t expect anything else from a French restaurant. Post food discussions with other patrons - selling Scotland (versus Berlin) to a couple over from America, to the raised eyebrow of our dear waiter. 

Dancing until closing (4:30am) in an Irish bar as despite being a capital city there was very little nightlife on a Tuesday (that didn’t have a ridiculous dress code). Talking with a group of guys on a work night out (30-60s) looking at photos of their kids, being laughed at for going to the moulin rouge (apparently it’s for old people) and being called Emily (as in Emily in Paris) when I thought he was saying Remy (like the rat in ratatouille - in Paris). Different Frenchmen arguing (in English) about who saw us first and would be taking us home - neither, as we were never going home with anyone other than each other. Just out to dance in a crowded bar, singing along to classic naughties and nineties music. An activity we haven’t been able to do in a very long time. A bouncer in a huff because I wouldn’t meet his beefed up boxer friend - who also thought for no reason that he was taking Bat home - men can be so presumptuous. Bat gaining bruises (from high tables) from laughing so hard. Live music, starting and stopping (how many breaks does a singer need) then a DJ in odd shoes (as in not a matching pair). Slippy tiled floors, glinting with smashed glass. It was amazing (not the floor but the night).

A graveyard picnic, Bat convinced she was hearing footsteps, with no-one around, which turned out to be my creaky, popping jaw while I enjoyed my baguette and cheese. Healthy cats, snoozing, meandering and staring, from on top of tomb stones and graves, indifferent to us. A peaceful place in a bustling city. Dappled light and soft rain marking our last day in Paree. 

On the hunt for a particular spice, hiding from the rain in the French equivalent of Holland & Barretts, many many stores were visited, with no luck. Stumbling upon a quirky store/cafe, having a second cake for the day (who can resist a chocolate lava cake?) and buying a beautiful blue mug, the same used in the cafe. Feeling like this would be our regular spot if we lived there. Dampness from the rain, seeping in like the sadness of having to part soon, tinging our  happiness a shade of blue.

Eating so much pizza for dinner I waddled home, so stuffed I didn’t even manage dessert…luckily i had had a chocolate eclair with our (first) coffee stop earlier in the day. 

A final breakfast in our cafe, with extra pastries for the road. I hate this part. I hate goodbyes. 

An uneventful train ride to the airport ended with me stuck with a Frenchman, unable to proceed through the ticket barriers (I had a ticket, as did he) or return to the train platform below as the escalators were only going up. We tried forcing the doors, pressed an intercom with no success, did not manage to wave anybody down. Communicating with gestures, neither familiar with the others language. Trying not to panic about missing flights and wondering if I could throw my case over and then follow. Luckily a man appeared up the escalator, the three of us pressed close together and rushed through when he tapped his pass. 

I made myself comfortable near my gate, disappointed the only food option was pret. My flight was delayed (but not by enough to see Bat catching hers), I didn’t really notice though as there was a press conference with various airline presidents and the like in attendance. Something about a new plane. I then caught my flight, sleeping all the way home, dreaming of where to next…