Sharing the wonders of travel & everyday adventures
Paris and heat is a pairing I never properly considered. As I hauled myself from the plane to the train to the metro, I was well aware that I was a sweaty, flustered mess, all frayed and ragged after a forty hour journey across the globe.
Every time I do this long trip, I fall into the trap of expecting it to be otherwise. I know that I’ll be tired, that I may feel a little hazy in the head, and that I would have spent too much of the flight watching movies instead of sleeping. In my mind’s eye though, my arrival into a continental capital is always a tad more romantic, sometimes even a little glamorous. Of course, this naïve expectation is always amusing in hindsight.
Dragging my suitcase across bumpy cobble stones and into the humid Parisian dusk, I vaguely registered the sweet scent of summer roses and the flash of red potted geraniums in balconies overhead. On some level, I noticed how the European light splays in different shades – softer, richer, more like a painting or a dream.
I must have unconsciously admired the union of fresh street art against a curled and rusted iron gate: the old city still stoic in a living, breathing metropolis.
This is a city of fond memories, of romantic dreams, of thrilling possibilities – I wish so much for it to be a city of great adventures for me too – but tonight as the dying sun flashes across the sky, it’s also a city of uncomfortable heat and too-loud, chaotic happenings.
Tomorrow, I’ll pay proper tribute to this beautiful world city, but tonight, I just hope to wash away the time zones and curl into deep, regenerative sleep. Then I’ll be ready for wild, heartfelt wanderings.