I don't know where my fascination with Paris came from. Maybe it started back when some high school friends visited the French capital and shared all their stories with me. Maybe it started when I read a book that took place in the catacombs. Maybe it started long before all that. I honestly don't know. I do know that every time I thought about the place, my mind would blast that Chainsmokers song and I'd wonder what Paris would be like. It might come as a surprise, but I'd never been to Paris, despite all my trips around the world. I decided to change that in 2019. A few days after my exam on Medieval English literature, I hopped on the Thalys to explore the city I'd heard and read so much about.

It took me only 3.5 hours to get from my doorstep to that of the hostel I'd be staying at. Not bad at all, considering most people think taking the train to Paris is the slowest option. I like trains and our planet though, so I happily took the train.
After dumping my luggage at the hostel, I immediately set out to explore Montmartre. I only had four days to spend in Paris before I had to head back home for university, so I needed to pick up the pace. Luckily my hostel was located almost on the staircases to the Sacré-Coeur. Within an hour of arriving in Paris, I could tick the first landmark of my list.
I walked through Montmartre with a Chinese girl who'd checked into the hostel right after me. Not being alone made the human wall of souvenir sellers on the stairs seem a little less intimidating, even though one still tried to grab me by the arm. Together we walked around in the freezing cold, checking out street art, before rushing into the Sacré-Coeur to warm up.


In the afternoon I tried to join a free walking tour that would take me to all the major landmarks. Sadly, the English tour was canceled the minute it'd start, because only three English-speaking tourists had shown up. I joined the Spanish tour instead, along with another girl who didn't speak Spanish at all. We were pissed about the way the tour operator had handled things, so after walking past the Notre Dame, the Pont Neuf and the Louvre, the two of us left the group and walked to the Eiffel Tower ourselves after dark.


Although my time at the Eiffel Tower that night was awesome, the canceled walking tour seemed to mark the start of a bad luck streak. When I woke up the next morning, Paris was covered in a thin layer of snow. I immediately jumped on a metro to the legendary Cimetière du Père-Lachaise, only to find out that all Parisian cemeteries are closed if there's half an inch of snow on the ground. Quite annoyed, I took the metro again to visit the catacombs. For a second I feared they'd be closed too, but within ten minutes of getting off the metro, I entered the domain of the dead. I'd been dreaming about this for years and thought that was the end of my bad luck. It wasn't. The Archeological Crypt, the next place I wanted to visit, was also closed. No one could tell me why and according to their website, the place was open. In reality, it was very much closed and even guarded by heavily-armed police officers. By this time I was so frustrated that I gave up and went back to the hostel.


Paris wasn't living up to all it had been made out to be. I was in a bad mood and retreating to my dorm did not make things better. My bunk bed was shaky as could be, I had no place to put my glasses at night and the power outlets were positioned so randomly throughout the room that I spend hours in front of the bathroom door to get my phone charged. On top of that, I had to share the dorm with two older Spanish ladies who didn't speak English and who passive-aggressively let me know I was an inconvenience to them. They also weren't big fans of turning the lights off at night, or flushing the toilet after using it. As I slept in the top bunk, one of the Spanish ladies 'slept' below me; Every two hours or so she'd have such violent spasms that it seemed like she had continuous exorcisms performed on her. She'd thrash her limbs about so aggressively that the entire bunk bed balanced on the verge of collapse all night long. I was not a happy camper.

My bad luck streak continued on the morning of the third day in Paris, when the metro line I needed to take to get to the Louvre broke down. I'd planned to visit the museum first thing in the morning, but went to the Arc de Triomphe instead. From there I walked the 3.2 kilometers to the Louvre in subzero temperatures. Once there, I elbowed my way to the Mona Lisa only to realize I honestly didn't care all that much for that painting. I went to the Egyptian wing instead.


As I was wandering through rooms full of Egyptian artifacts, my luck finally changed. The Louvre offered one nice surprise after the other and I loved every second of my time away from the crowds in the Italian wing. I even found €5,- in the gift shop.
With Lady Luck now on my side, I decided to venture out to the botanical gardens, which bear the very creative name of Jardin des Plantes (no idea what else you'd put in a botanical garden, but okay). The gardens were open, access was free and best of all: there was almost no one there. I spent ages in the tropical greenhouse, taking dozens and dozens of pictures. Afterward, I decided to try getting into Père-Lachaise again. This time I was successful. The gates were open and I roamed around, wondering about the stories this place could tell were it able to talk. I would have stayed there till dusk, but left when I couldn't feel my feet anymore.


All was well again by the start of my fourth and final day (except for the Spanish ladies not flushing the toilet, which was disgusting). I wasn't in the mood to do a lot of walking again, so I went to Shakespeare and Company, a bookstore next to the Notre Dame. I fell in love with that store, from the building's exposed wooden beams to the endless rows of books to the bookstore cat.

After a quick lunch at the bookstore's café, I shot one last glance at the Notre Dame and went to the train station to catch my train back home. I'd been staying in Paris. It'd been challenging, frustrating and at times not as much fun as I'd hoped, but I'd done it. Soon I saw the north of France flash by the train window. I couldn't help but smile. Maybe my trip hadn't been all I'd hoped for, but I made memories and experienced things I wouldn't want to have missed. Paris was another lesson learned.