My Official Review of Paris

Skip to the bottom if you actually just want a review.

Call me a hater, call me contrarian, call me whatever, but I never wanted to go to Paris. Just didn’t care. I think I pursue “off the beaten path” to a fault. Whether it be detrimental to my own safety or, less consequential, I miss out on a mainstream attraction. I always heard Parisians were jerks. It’s one of the largest tourist destinations on the planet. Everyone always talks about how they fell in love with Paris and its so romantic (bleh). I saw Emily in Paris the Netflix show and thought it was just awful. I mean good god it’s bad. This obsession everyone has with the city just completely turned me off of it. It actually explains Parisians attitude pretty well. If I had to see couples making out and twirling their umbrellas while singing Dean Martin everyday on my way to work I would be miserable.

I just think there is too much world to see to get funneled into one of the six spots everybody goes to. Of course after all this obtuseness I went to Paris. One of my best friends and current roommate was staying in an apartment there for a month. We also had several other friends that were able to go the same week, which literally never happens. The schedules aligned so we had to do it.

And no, this is not a “dad refuses to get a puppy then the family forces him to then he becomes best friends with the dog” kind of story. At least, I’ll never admit it, after how much I shit-talked Paris. But you could say I had reverse Paris Syndrome experience. I’ll save you the Wikipedia trip: it’s the phenomenon of building up Paris in a person’s head as a beautiful, romantic, utopia where all their dreams come true. Then they arrive and see some rats and smell an alleyway and their world is shattered. Apparently it happens so frequently they named it. It’s crazy, just read this:

_{The syndrome is characterized by a number of psychiatric symptoms such as acute delusional states, hallucinations, feelings of persecution (perceptions of being a victim of prejudice, aggression, hostility from others), derealization, depersonalization, anxiety, as well as psychosomatic manifestations such as dizziness, tachycardia, sweating most notably, but also others, such as vomiting}

Sometimes when I’m in a bad mood I’ll go and read that to have a laugh. Now, flip that around and have a very low opinion of Paris, you might actually enjoy it. Now you see where I’m coming from. However, most people probably don’t have such a polarized opinion of Paris. They can probably just visit the city and have a good time without writing a whole blog justifying their visit.

Now, we arrived in Paris after a few days in Scotland. The debacle getting there is detailed in my last post. We arrived in the morning and took the train into the city. We were staying with my friend Trent who was working in Paris for the month. His company put him up in an apartment for free, so we thought we might as well free-load off of him. The first day, we struggled and looked like the goofy tourists in a new city. We stood on a train platform for at least twenty minutes before we realized that rail was decommissioned. We paid for the wrong ticket and needed a security guard’s help to let us out of the turnstile. And again in a totally separate train station a good samaritan scanned his ticket for us to let us out, as we had once again bought the wrong ticket. So things were going great.

It was the middle of the day, and we had to meet Trent at his office to get the keys to his apartment. We decided just to have lunch at the restaurant underneath him while we were there. It was a bright, sunny day. We sat outside at a little table overlooking one of the canals. We heard no English being spoken. Our waitress was so over-the-top welcoming like she was thrilled to see us. Her English wasn’t great, but that did not curb her enthusiasm. My French is non-existent, so she helped us a lot with the menu, going over her personal favorites.

I really enjoy the first impressions I get from a new city. They stick in my mind for a long time. Admiring the architecture, murals, and statues. What are people wearing? I watch traffic whiz by and contemplate whether I could drive in this city. I assess the claustrophobia to coziness ratio between buildings. Are there parks and trees nearby? Is the vibe high energy or laid back? Are the streets littered with garbage and is there a weird smell everywhere? These are the things I ponder upon arrival.

We didn’t do much leisurely walking that first day. We hadn’t taken the day off, and needed to move the mouse around on our computer at some point. We collected the keys from Trent and took the correct series of trains to get to his apartment. Trent’s apartment was in an old building near the Gare du Nord train station. The stairs to the apartment wrapped around an elevator about the shoulder-width in size. The apartment itself was one bedroom, but had a separate living room and kitchen, making it fairly large by European standards. The wood floorboards creaked loudly with every step. It certainly felt very old, but not musty or dingy. It was decorated in a quaint, cozy style. Monika and I pretended to work the rest of the day from our computers until Trent got home.

That evening we had dinner at a café on the corner. We sat outside, watching the mopeds and bicycles breeze by. I ordered the duck. Trent smoked a cigarette. It was all very Parisian. I mentioned in the beginning we had more friends joining us in Paris, two of them, Kelly and Kenny, arrived that night. It was our first night in Paris, we had to go out! We met them for drinks at a bar near the train station. I had to fight the urge to walk into an Irish pub and instead opted for a cocktail bar. The waiter gave us a very warm welcome to Paris, which made it the third or fourth local to be kind or helpful to us that first day. I wrote in my journal that they had “shattered the illusion of rudeness” for Parisians. We walked to one more bar before calling it a night. I slept on the floor of Trent’s living room, Monika on the couch, Kelly and Kenny wisely got a hotel.

The next morning Monika and I struggled through a French breakfast order then walked around for a while. I was finally able to enjoy he city in the daylight. I will say it is a great city to walk around. Most of the buildings have the same architectural style with small cast iron bannisters or terraces in front of the windows. Everything felt old and ornate. It was fun to walk around parts with less tourism. Just watching people going about their day and occasionally getting wafts of aromas while passing by corner cafes. We walked for a few hours enjoying the sunshine and watching pigeons peck at bread crumbs before meandering back to the apartment.

We worked through the afternoon until my cousin Zach arrived. He was also staying with us. After he was settled in, we went out. It was Zach’s first night in Paris, we had to go out! First, we had dinner at the same corner cafe. Smoked the same cigarettes on the same patio. Then instead of resisting the urge, we caved and went to an Irish pub. There we met Kelly, Kenny, Kelly’s parents, and Trent’s friend that was a girl but not his girlfriend. We sat at a long booth and shouted over each other while knocking back a few. I couldn’t believe how many people we convinced to come across the pond at the same time. After we went to one more bar back near the train station. We sat on the patio under what looked like a greenhouse and a handful of locals from the street tried to sell us things or just ask for money.

The following morning Monika, Zach, and I went to the Eifel Tower and the Arc de Triumph. The Eifel Tower was much bigger than I expected. While it is swarming with tourists and people trying to hustle you, it is a cool feeling seeing a landmark that you’ve known since childhood. I’m not sure how to describe the feeling of meeting something for the first time that I am very familiar with, but never tangibly thought about it being real. Something you can touch and not just see in books or postcards. It’s like meeting Santa Claus.

It was a beautiful October day. We took a cab to the Eifel Tower, but walked the rest of the day. We walked from the end of the park laid out in front of the Tower, under the Tower, over the river, up the many steps to the Trocadéro, through the shaded streets to the massive roundabout encircling the Arc de Triumph. In fact, it is the largest roundabout in the world. There are no lanes and certainly no crosswalks. There is an underground pathway that leads to the enormous arch. It is also much larger in person than I imagined.

The Arc de Triumph is etched with carvings and words that I’m sure are very beautiful if I were able to read it. Walking around the circular median, watching the psychotic flow of enraged drivers, with a dozen streets lined with pristine French buildings branching off of this nexus was one of my favorite moments in the city. No other city I’ve seen has such a focal, beating heart. It is structured like a neuron with nerve endings stretching throughout the rest of the city.

We had a light lunch nearby. Consisting of only a croissant and an espresso. We sat at a small table out on the sidewalk. All within view of the famous arch. It was all very Parisian. Monika and I once again had to open our computers that day so we had to return to the apartment.

That evening Monika’s friend Maddie arrived, who was also staying with Trent, Zach, Monika, and I in the one bedroom apartment. It was Maddie’s first night in Paris, we had to go out! We, once again, ate dinner at the corner cafe. Smoked cigarettes at the little tables on the sidewalk. This was many of our first time in Paris, but this was Maddie’s first time in Europe. I was envious of her. I remember my first time in Europe, my first culture shock in Vietnam, and I’ve been chasing that high ever since.

Finally that evening all our friends had assembled at Trent’s abode. We began to play drinking games and tell stories. The cards came out and the wine bottle was passed around. Before we knew it, most of us were too drunk to even go out. That, or we were just having too much fun. Trent had so much fun it made him physically sick to his stomach. Maddie slept on the couch, Monika and I on the ground, Zach and Trent shared the bed. Again, Kelly and Kenny wisely got a hotel room.

The next morning was Friday. It was now Maddie’s turn to see the sights, so we went and had breakfast near the Arc de Triumph. The previous nights of indulgence were beginning to wear on me. I struggled through my morning coffee and being the genius I am, ordered ceviche for breakfast. At the time, I think I was picturing a specific bowl of ceviche I once had in Costa Rica. One with freshly caught seafood a ten minute walk from the ocean, delicious tropical greens, and plantain chips to eat like a bowl of nachos. Instead I got a grey, slimy slab of uncooked fish. It was as if England had invented a sadder Jell-O instead of America and then greased with fish oil so you could just slide it down the gullet while the Germans bombed you. It was one of the most tragic hangover breakfasts I have ever had.

I had to return to the apartment to give a terrible virtual presentation to people across the world. All of whom, I am almost certain, got a better nights sleep than I did. That evening, we gathered meats, cheeses, bread, and wine from various stores and congregated at the park under the Eifel Tower. We all watched the light shows, eating and drinking like French nobility. Some cigarettes were smoked and many poses were struck for our photoshoots. Paris is a well-branded city because everything you do there feels exactly like what you should be doing. What’s more French than eating cheese and drinking wine under the Eifel Tower?

After we ate and drank everything, we went for a long walk along the river. We may have accidentally walked through some unsanctioned industrial sector at one point, but mostly enjoyed the open air and the lights reflecting on the water. A while later, we came across a bar tucked into the bank of the river. It seemed cool, having a bar walled in the stone. No roads led to it, just the pathway in front of the river. We were seated quickly at a table as soon as we walked up. Not a single other customer was there that Friday night. The drinks were expensive and we had to go to the bar to order them, since they never came back to check on us. The fire alarm was going off most the time we were there. The employees all chatted with each other at the far corner of the place, seemingly oblivious to the blaring siren. When I approached them for the check, they seemed annoyed that they had to do anything for their only customers.

So we left of course. We crossed a bridge and walked a while longer. The city was quiet and empty where we walked. We made it louder, but quiet nonetheless. Eventually we had walked almost the entire way to the Arc de Triumph by taking the scenic route. We must have walked ten miles that day. Finally, we found a bar that could be described as Irish-adjacent for a night cap. It had more pub than club feel, which was fine by me.

On Saturday, the gang split up. Zach, Trent, Kelly and Kenny went to London. Maddie, Monika and I transferred to an Airbnb for the night. Our new place was in, what could diplomatically be described as a less chic part of town. Well rattled our suitcases over the cracked pavement looking for an address. I was mostly oblivious to the quality of the neighborhood. I’m not sure if it was my de-sensitivity to areas like these or my week-long, cumulative hangover I was battling. But women, of course, are hyper-vigilant to places like these and the people that inhabit them. They have to be. In truth the neighborhood was not that bad, I have seen far worse, but I understand why it put the other two on edge.

Travelling in strange new places, it helps being a six foot three male. I’m not going to pretend it’s not. Excluding of course: airplanes, backseats of cars, low clearance doorways, and beds where my feet hang off the end. Walking the streets I am rarely bothered. Ironically, I would be a very easy person to rob. I have no self defense skills. I have never been in a physical altercation of any kind. If you asked for my wallet with a butterknife I would fold immediately. Height is a great deterrent.

We never encountered any trouble. I only mention the type of neighborhood it was because if you ask Monika about it, we will give you two very different descriptions. We reached our building with no problems. It was old and had no elevator. Our place was on the fifth floor. We lugged our suitcases to the top then I bumped my head on the doorway walking in. The flat was well renovated, but had the physical shape of an attic. The ceiling was slanted to the point that I would break my nose running halfway across the room. But hey, the price was right.

No time to waste, it was a Saturday, our only day in Paris without working. We set off as soon as we arrived. It was a full day:

• Notre Dame (under construction)
• Coffee, Pastries, and more walking.
• The Pompidou Museum
• The Louvre
• Dinner
• Speak Easy night cap

The Pompidou museum was an interesting mix of modern art and Picassos. The building itself is worth visiting, with a glass tube escalator on the outside giving an awesome view of the city.

The Louvre was incredible and worth the fame it receives. However Mona Lisa, is not. Half the people in the museum are waiting in line to see a picture of a woman about three feet tall, when all around them are massive oil paintings of ancient battles a hundred feet in length. There are great statues and ancient artifacts from all of the world throughout human history. Like the British Museum, it is one of the few benefits of centuries of colonialism: a central location to marvel at art and history.

Dinner that night was barely worth writing about. Food was okay but the service was awful. We had to wait 45 minutes after we finished eating just to get the check.

To end the night, we found a “speak-easy” bar where we had to give a secret passcode to someone who opened a bookcase to let us in. It was tucked away inside an upscale restaurant. I was wearing a baseball cap, jeans, and probably looked pretty disheveled at this point. The drinks naturally were very expensive, but the person running it talked with us for a while. They were the sole manager, and seemed passionate about their job which included finding a new theme for the bar and drinks every few months.

That was our last night in Paris. The following day we took the train to London to watch the Denver Broncos play the Jacksonville Jaguars in Wembley Stadium. Taking up the mantle of being loud Americans, we got hammered and yelled at Russel Wilson for a few hours. On Monday morning, I was certain I was going to die.

Travelling with friends is a little different than travelling alone or with family. Going back to when I first arrived in Scotland, it had been twelve days of travelling. The exhaustion was setting in, every day we walked for miles and stayed up past our bedtimes. And I still had six more days to go.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’d rather push myself to brink of exhaustion to fill my travels with experiences and memories than a relaxing vacation of nothingness. I’ll leave the writing about cocktails on the beach to Jimmy Buffet. That being said, I was approaching my limit, and laying on the beach was sounding better and better.

Now, my official review of Paris, France:

Pedestrian Rating 9/10

Wide sidewalks, great public transport, lots of bike lanes.

People: 5/10

I don’t like to generalize millions of people, but I’ll do it anyway. We encountered some lovely people early on, but for the most part it seemed like no one wanted me there. I respect hating your job, work sucks. And I understand millions of tourists flood the streets every year. So I don’t completely blame the locals. But if I had to compare to other cities, not as welcoming.

Food 3/10

Food kinda sucked. I don’t understand the hype around French food. Maybe I was ordering wrong. Maybe I should try not being lactose intolerant in a cheese-based society.

Sight-Seeing and things to do 10/10

There is no shortage of famous landmarks in Paris, which should surprise no one.

Architecture 8/10

While most of the buildings look very similar, I think it enhances the vibe around you. It makes it easier to feel lost in time. But it can also make you feel trapped, with little open space.

Cleanliness 5/10

Probably about average for a city that size.

Overall 7/10: Worth Visiting

It is a better rating than I expected to give with my prejudices I carried in. It’s not my favorite city, but I have to say I had a great time there. Outside of the main attractions, the real charm is walking the streets and stopping to eat and drink at outdoor tables. Just make sure you aren’t in a hurry.