Paris in Three Days: Day 3

After a leisurely Day 1 and a whirlwind Day 2, EZ and I approached our third and last day in Paris with a desire to fit in as much as possible of the remaining sites we wanted to see, while also somehow taking the time to savor them.

We awoke bright and early that misty Parisian morning, enjoyed some pastries and coffee from the corner boulangerie, and caught a metro to our first stop: The Grand Synagogue of Paris. As EZ is Jewish, we wanted to pay tribute to this beautiful temple, which was built in 1874 and remains the largest synagogue in France. We admired the classical style of the architecture, with the circular blossom windows, embellished columns, and other lovely flourishes. Unfortunately, we weren’t allowed inside due to a private service.


Next, EZ and I took on the mother of all Paris sights: The Louvre. That magnificent, formidable fortress of culture and history…it looked even more imposing beneath the bank of clouds darkening above.

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EZ and I skipped the long line at the main entrance by using the Porte Des Lions entrance, one of the “secret” alternative entrances. It was a good thing, too, because a pattering rain had begun to fall… we’d have been soaked if we waited in the main line.

Given the massive scale of this iconic art museum (one of the largest in the world), seeing everything the Louvre had to offer within one day would have been impossible. And we still had other places to visit on our last day. So EZ and I carefully selected the exhibits we most wanted to see within the next four hours.

We began with the Islamic Art, which boasted an array of gorgeous artifacts. Glazed dishes, enameled bottles, illustrated tapestries, intricate woodwork, decorated tiles…the relics were diverse and exquisitely crafted. It was interesting to learn how these objects were used in everyday life hundreds of years ago in Syria, Egypt, Iran, Central Asia, Spain, and other areas with Islamic populations.

The extensive European painting collections were next…in order to cover the long hallways and multiple off-shoot rooms within a reasonable amount of time, we had to glance at each painting as we walked at a brisk clip, lingering only at those paintings we found most compelling. Many of the works conveyed religious or mythological themes. EZ took pleasure in photographing some of the more bizarre paintings…

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After wandering through the seemingly endless halls of European paintings, we went in search of the Holy Grail – that is, the Mona Lisa. She was surrounded by a large crowd of people taking selfies. As one pair of teenaged girls attempted their selfie, they knocked into an older French gentleman who cried, “Mademoiselle!” in deep indignation.

I eased my way through the throngs and attempted to commune silently with the mystical portrait. Because everyone had always exclaimed how she was much smaller than expected, I was actually surprised by her modest, medium size. I pondered the secrets behind her eyes, the mystery of her smile. Finally, I took a picture and moved on.

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Our final exhibit at the Louvre was the Arts of Africa, Asia, Oceania, and the Americas. EZ and I found this to be our favorite, given the unique and delightfully whimsical sculptures, many of which served social uses in their respective cultures. I loved the aesthetics of the artistry – which clearly required considerable skill – as well as the playful spirit of many pieces.

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Our time at the Louvre was capped with the requisite visit to the gift shop, which merited its own measured perusal. After a while, I decided upon some nice vintage-style art plates for my family, a couple of quirky art magnets, and an adorable mug that seemed to perfectly depict our rainy yet cozy day at the Louvre.


“Ich auch”


“J’aime Paris”


“Moi aussi”

Souvenier bags in hand, EZ and I hopped a metro to the Ile de la Cite, where there was still more for us to see. But first we ducked into Ma Salle a Manger to warm ourselves with some soup. It was a quaint, nearly empty café with vintage French movie posters, a chandelier evocative of Alice in Wonderland, and other fanciful accents. While I enjoyed my French onion soup, EZ’s tangy vegetable soup left something to be desired.

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Warmed and revived from our meal, we headed to Conciergerie Palace. During the French Revolution, the Conciergerie had been used as a prison from which convicts were taken to be executed at the guillotine down the road. Before that, it had been a royal palace.



It felt a bit eerie to wander the gallery that prisoners had passed through centuries before, many of them innocent. But the Gothic architecture was impressive, especially the twisted pillars in the Salle des Gens d’Armes (Hall of Men in Arms).


The spooky feeling lingered as EZ and I passed the prison cells that had once been occupied, and when we arrived at a room listing the names of all those who had been condemned to the guillotine during the Reign of Terror. Once we reached Marie Antoinette’s final chambers, we found that the room had been set up with model guards and a model Marie beneath a black shroud to recreate the tragic situation. If one of them moved, I might have screamed…

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In keeping with the creepy theme of the Conciergerie, EZ and I decided to check out the Notre Dame Crypts next, assuming that the crypts were, in fact, tombs. To our surprise, we learned that the crypts were actually historical ruins – archeological remains and excavations of early settlements on the Ile de la Cite. But this was still a fascinating discovery. EZ and I wandered through the dark, underground labyrinth, exploring the crumbling walls that demarcated ancient villages, and watching these old ruins come back to life in miniature model constructions and interactive video media.

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When we reemerged into the modern world outside, we found that the gloomy weather had banished half the line for Notre Dame Cathedral. Moreover, the line was moving at a fairly rapid pace, because the cathedral was about to begin mass. What serendipity!


Before long, EZ and I were through the handsome iron-worked wooden doors and inside the cathedral, where the pews were filled with locals attending mass. At the altar, below a lovely rose window, fragrant incense caused smoke to billow forth like a mystic apparition had just vanished from the spot.

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EZ and I followed a handful of tourists around the cathedral, walking silently and respectfully as we admired the architecture and ornamentation. Beautiful, holy singing from the vespers service drifted over to us, reminding us that this famous cathedral was not just a historical marvel, but a modern-day place of worship for devout Catholic Parisians.

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But, as Notre Dame is indeed a famous cathedral, featured prominently in well known cultural works such as The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, EZ and I had to see the notorious gargoyles and bells of Notre Dame. Unfortunately, the bell tower was not open to visitors at the time.

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Having experienced the major sites of Ile de la Cite, EZ and I began to walk towards the Latin Quarter for some drinks. On the way, however, we encountered some lesser known places worth exploring.

First, we crossed a bridge with locks, of which there are several in Paris, although the authorities have been working to change that. According to tradition, lovers sign padlocks with their initials and the date, lock the padlocks onto the side of the bridge, and toss the key into the river. This is supposed to symbolize their undying love. While this sounds romantic in theory, the reality is that the weight of all the metal locks threatens the integrity of the bridge, and could potentially lead to collapse. Also, historical purists feel the locks mar the beauty of the bridge’s original architecture. As a result, Paris officials are in the process of removing locks from bridges.

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EZ and I enjoyed reading the inscriptions on the locks, which dated as far back as the early 1990s (from what we found), but we did not feel compelled to create our own. Our love is expressed in other ways…in everyday affections and appreciation, in thoughtful surprises and sweet gestures. Plus, it would have been super lame if we created a lock only to have it removed by some Paris city worker!

After crossing the bridge of locks, EZ and I were continuing to wander toward the Latin Quarter, when we stumbled upon an interesting sight.  Within a small, enclosed grass area, we saw a raised stone platform. On the side of it, etched in gold, were the words Martyrs Francais de la Deportation, next to the number “1945.” The style of the writing was made to look as though it had been etched by hand using primitive tools – sharp, imprecise lines; angular. Where were we? EZ and I asked an official-looking lady who stood at a kiosk nearby.

“This is a Holocaust memorial,” she replied solemnly. “For the French who were deported to Nazi concentration camps during World War II.”

We then noticed a set of stairs descending into what must have been the belly of the memorial. The lady allowed us to visit the memorial and pay our respects, on the condition that we did not publish any photographs we took; such images were to be used only for private reflection. And so I will try my best to describe what my photographs would have shown.

Imagine this:

As you descend the stairs, you find yourself in a sort of concrete outdoor grotto, where black iron spears are mounted upon one wall, sharp black iron triangles jutting out from them like flags. Is this a piece of art? It looks stark and menacing, like medieval weaponry. You kneel down, and just beyond the spiked bottoms of the ironwork is a metal grate, through which you can see the flow of the Seine river. A peaceful, lovely sight…but the bars of the grate feel too confining. A barrier.

You stand. On the other side of the concrete grotto, you see a doorway. You enter into the dim, hexagonal subterranean chamber. In the center of the chamber floor is a large, circular metal plaque with a bright bulb in the middle. The border of the plaque bears French writing, similar to the angular inscriptions outside. You later learn that this inscription translates to: “They descended into the mouth of the earth and they did not return.”

Sadness trickles through you like a warm rain. You raise your eyes. Directly in front of you, just past the plaque, is a barred window glowing with the light beyond. As you approach, you realize the window looks into a long, narrow passageway, the walls on either side illuminated by thousands of miniature glass crystal bulbs – each golden bulb represents a life lost. Right at the front of the hall sits a black rectangular box, upon which five white roses lay. At the end of the tunnel is a light – a lantern or candle of some sort. The effect is altogether surreal. Like a trance, or a strange dream. You feel a shiver run through your body as you move back from the barred window.

You look up. More angular inscriptions are etched across the tops of the walls. They are also in French. But you later learn their translation:  “Dedicated to the living memory of the 200,000 French deportees sleeping in the night and the fog, exterminated in the Nazi concentration camps.”

Your eyes press shut in a moment of silence and respect. Then you continue on to the small adjoining rooms that look like prison cells. That unnerving style of angular writing, as though etched by a prisoner using a sharp stone, is there again at the top of the walls. Later, you learn these are fragments of poetry.

I have dreamt so very much of you

I have walked so much

Loved your shadow so much

That nothing more is left to me of you

All that remains to me is to be the shadow among shadows

To be a hundred times more of a shadow than the shadow

To be the shadow that will come and come again

Into your sunny life


These rooms contain earth and bones from the concentration camps. You realize that you are in a crypt, a real one, and begin to feel claustrophobic. The dim lighting, the enclosed space, the strange style of the inscriptions, the sadness of the place…it all flows through you in a tangle of emotion.

Air…fresh air. You move back toward the entrance, which is also the exit. Above the doorway are the words “PARDONNE N’OUBLIE PAS…”   Your French is not very good, but you know this much.

Please never forget.  

*                         *                             *

EZ and I emerged from the memorial feeling as though we had undergone some momentous, transformative experience. We held hands and walked in silence, reflecting to ourselves before we felt normal enough to discuss the visceral memorial. We had never seen anything like it, but found it to be much more powerful than traditional memorial structures.

After a while, we arrived in the Latin Quarter. EZ and I popped into Esmeralda and Chabana’s for a drink or three. It was a fun little Latin hole-in-the-wall, lively with neon lights and Spanish music. One wall was papered with paper currencies from around the globe, along with photographs and art. Here, we finally got a chance to unwind over peanuts and booze.

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But wait! We still wanted to check out the Pompidou Center, which would close in a couple of hours. Would we make it in time? EZ and I checked the clock…we could…if we left right now. We downed our drinks, paid the tab, and rushed toward the nearest metro stop.

Soon, we found ourselves in the rainy Pompidou Center, a modern art museum aptly contained in a funky, contemporary complex. The exposed, color-coded framework gave the museum an industrial yet playful feel. Inside, we were one of only a few visitors. EZ and I meandered through the rooms, admiring the modern works, which had their own air of playfulness. However, as we read the texts beside them, we learned that despite their seeming lightheartedness, these works often served as political or social commentary when interpreted appropriately.

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Of course, we didn’t have time to cover the entire museum before it closed, but EZ and I were glad to have seen enough to appreciate it. By this time, it had grown quite dark, and our stomachs were rumbling. Too weary to discover a new restaurant, EZ and I headed back to our apartment and dined across the street at Le Souris Verte once more, knowing that we already enjoyed the food. We were not disappointed…I relished in a delicious yet affordable salmon dish prepared in the classical French style, while EZ loved his “Burger de la Revolucion.” And our waitress was very amiable as she attempted to speak English, and I attempted to speak French, in order to decide which wine we should order. She was also frank enough to tell us, in no uncertain terms, which wines were NOT good.

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Here, at the restaurant, EZ and I happily and comfortably recapped our three-day Paris trip. It was quite pleasant to relive the highlights, and to realize just how much we were able to cram into three days. Of course, we also realized that some of our planning was not the most efficient; for example, we should have bundled all of the sights on Ile de la Cite into one day to minimize travel and maximize time. Still…overall, we were pleased with our vacation.

And what was my impression of Paris, then, after three days? In my mind, before coming to Paris, I imagined the city preserved in some picturesque, quaint old state…perhaps in the 1920s. Of course, Paris still retains many timeless elements, but it is also a bustling modern, commercial center, with aspects not unlike those found in the U.S. Once I got used to that fact, I was able to love Paris for what it was, an amalgam of old and new, of historical and contemporary, but in any case – beautiful. Full of culture. Brimming with charm.

I shall end on a pair of quotes from Midnight in Paris, a very delightful film that you must see if you have not yet had the pleasure:

Adriana:  “I can never decide whether Paris is more beautiful by day or by night.”

Gil:  “No, you can’t, you couldn’t pick one. I mean, I can give you a checkmate argument for each side. You know, I sometimes think, how is anyone ever gonna come up with a book, or a painting, or a symphony, or a sculpture that can compete with a great city. You can’t. Because you look around and every street, every boulevard, is its own special art form and when you think that in the cold, violent, meaningless universe that Paris exists, these lights, I mean come on, there’s nothing happening on Jupiter or Neptune, but from way out in space you can see these lights, the cafés, people drinking and singing. For all we know, Paris is the hottest spot in the universe.”


Paris in Three Days: Day 2

While Day 1 in Paris allowed us to get our feet wet, our second day was a full immersion. EZ and I woke up early in the morning and grabbed some croissants and pastries at the boulangerie (bakery) on the same block as our apartment. I must note that the baked goods in Paris are astonishingly good. The fancy, expensive, gourmet delicacies that we buy as special treats in the U.S. are everyday breakfast fare in Paris, much like donuts or bagels in the U.S. Except that in Paris, pastries aren’t too costly; they are a daily staple, after all.

Our stomachs satiated, EZ and I ran to the tour office for our purchased package of Eiffel Tower/Seine River Cruise to make sure we didn’t miss our tour group.  We made it just in the nick of time; within a few minutes, the tour guide led our group toward the Eiffel Tower, regaling us with its remarkable history.  Then we got to skip the long line for the tower, passing through just a short queue reserved for tour groups, and the tour guide set us free.

EZ and I enjoyed the alarmingly transparent floors on the first level, where we had the queasy feeling that we were about to plunge through the glass at any moment and onto the crowds below. The second floor also had some charm with its circular views over Paris. Then we found ourselves on the glass elevator.  The ride up was more exhilarating than I could have imagined; the tower really is quite high, and the rise was such a rush, especially as I watched the scenery drop down before me through the glass! Finally, at the top, the sweeping vistas of the city were spectacular. Our tour guide had provided us with a piece of paper listing descriptions and geographical locations of various landmarks, which we were able to identify in the distance. It really was a wonderful experience; touristy or not, the Eiffel Tower is not to be missed!

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After the Eiffel Tower, we were supposed to enjoy our river cruise on the nearby Seine River, but we just missed the boat. So we decided to come back later, and first check out Napoleon’s tomb. EZ and I picked up some savory pastries from a nearby boulangerie for an on-the-go lunch, not wanting to waste a second of our day. But we did take care to look around us as we walked through the neighborhood, pointing out such marvels as a building completely cloaked in verdant vegetation.



Napoleon’s tomb was located at Les Invalides, a complex of buildings with museums and monuments related to France’s military history, as well as a hospital and retirement home for war veterans. The complex was imposing with its sprawling compound, collection of canons, and meticulously manicured grounds (which included a colony of bees to pollinate the plants).



The domed building containing Napoleon’s tomb boasted gilded embellishments both inside and out. I was particularly taken with the frescos on the domed ceilings. Of course, the tomb itself was quite formidable…especially considering how massive the coffin was compared to Napoleon’s diminutive figure within.

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After viewing Napoleon’s comically large tomb, EZ and I headed back to the Seine River just in time to enjoy our river cruise.  It was better than I expected – this is definitely a wonderful way to see Paris: Relax with a drink in your hand and a breeze in your hair as all the beautiful sights sail by right before your eyes on the emerald waters.

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Rejuvenated from our time on the river, EZ and I bounded to the metro with fresh energy to head to the Ile de Cite, an island upon the river, which was home to several prominent sights. First, we visited Sainte-Chappelle, a royal medieval Gothic chapel, which turned out to be one of my favorite sights.  At first we wound up on the lower level, which was nice, but frankly didn’t seem worthy of the line we had waited in (Sainte-Chappelle was one of the few sights where our Paris Museum Pass did not allow us to cut the line).  There were some stained glass windows and a lovely gilded dome with a star-spangled blue ceiling.


But then we noticed a narrow staircase in the corner of the room. Once we ascended, EZ and I experienced the true star of Sainte-Chappelle: the spectacular upper-level chapel, a masterpiece of intricate kaleidoscopic stained-glass window panels.  The panels featured impressive details illustrating nearly every part of the Bible.  In between the panels, golden vaulted framework enriched the breathtaking display. Above the outdoor entrance was another decorative motif: a gorgeous stained-glass rose window, circular with floral tracery branching out to create petal-like frames for each colorful image. It was easy to feel reverence and grace in such a stunning place as this.

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The nearby Notre Dame was next on our list, but the line was long, the crowds overbearing.  So we decided to return another time.


Instead, as EZ and I wandered down the street, we stumbled upon a different Gothic church that was quite beautiful: Saint Severin Church. It may not have been as famous as Notre Dame, but it possessed its own charms, along with sharing some common features with Notre Dame (i.e. flying buttresses and gargoyles!)…AND there was no line! I particularly enjoyed the modern stained glass windows, many of which featured swarming abstract shapes and jewel-tone color schemes, along with the fine sprawling pillar-work and vaulting.

There is something very satisfying about straying off the beaten path of standard tourist attractions to make your own marvelous discovery.

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Having enjoyed the luxury of exploring the nearly empty Saint Severin Church at our leisure, EZ and I began to walk to the Latin Quarter, which is known as a “college town” due to the nearby universities. At Maison Georges Larnicol, I devoured the best macaroons I’d ever tasted! Melt-in-your-mouth goodness combined with delicate, precise flavors.  Of course, those polished, pastel sugar-gems are also easy on the eyes.


A few blocks away, EZ spotted The Abbey Bookshop, an English-language used bookstore. We have a great love for book stores, and we feel possessed to explore any that come upon our path. So, of course, we ducked inside The Abbey Bookshop, where every narrow hallway, rocky cellar, nook, and crevice was brimful of books. Such a quaint, intimate experience! Like a sort of cozy book cave with tunnels…



As we continued on our walk, we passed the Université Paris-Sorbonne, where students were gathering for some sort of event or activism.


After a while, EZ and I realized that we had gone most of the day without a drop of alcohol. This had to be remedied straight away. We popped into The Wall, a pub where the national flags of various countries hung from the ceiling in colorful array. Here, we swigged some beers among the students.



Thus refreshed, EZ and I made our way to Luxembourg Gardens. Rather than the lush botanical gardens I expected, the attraction was more like a large, well-manicured public park with several lovely floral/statue exhibitions. The gardens also included a cute little school of beekeeping. EZ and I enjoyed a pleasant stroll through the gardens, although at one point, some students shouted at us to “Stay off the lawn – it is forbidden!” …And so we kept to the tended paths.

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As our stomachs began to rumble, EZ and I made our way toward Polidor, a historic restaurant recommended by EZ’s uncle. Polidor was founded in 1845, with many of its original decorative and culinary elements remaining intact today. The restaurant felt rustic with its wooden framework, communal tables, and checkered red tablecloths. For the first time in my life, I tried escargot…I hadn’t expected the shells to be so beautifully formed, like whelk seashells or coffee creampuff swirls. Although I was almost afraid to take the first bite, I’m glad I did – the escargot tasted almost like squid, and the hot, salty-buttery green sauce was delicious. It was quite a delightful meal…all I had to do was avoid imagining the snails alive.





EZ used the restroom after dinner, and discovered just how old-fashioned Polidor actually was:  the toilet was basically a hole in the ground. How charming!


After dinner, EZ and I took the metro back to our little abode in Montmarte, reflecting on all the wondrous sights we’d seen. But there was still so much more to see! And we only had one day left in Paris…

To be continued… Read Day 3


Paris in Three Days: Day 1

Ah, Paris!  This is a place that has nestled a charming little home for itself in the global cultural mindset as perhaps the most romantic, artistic, historic, and iconic city in existence. How does one approach such a richly multifaceted city within a measly 72 hours…and does Paris, in fact, live up to the hype?

Well, my boyfriend EZ and I managed to squeeze in quite a lot in three days, although of course we couldn’t fit in everything, and lacked the luxury of a more leisurely pace. While Paris may not have been quite what I expected, it was definitely a vibrant city worth visiting. Explore our whirlwind itinerary and decide for yourself!

Day 1

Our flight landed in Charles deGaulle airport on a misty Friday morning, and the metro whisked us into the city by late morning. EZ and I had booked lodgings at a cute little AirBnB apartment in Montmartre for a mere $88/night.  Although it might have been more convenient logistics-wise to stay in central Paris, we wanted to avoid the crowds of tourists. Instead, we opted to immerse ourselves in a more authentic Parisian neighborhood.


After getting settled into the apartment, we walked down the street for lunch at Le Souris Verte at the recommendation of our AirBnB host. It was a unique, shabby-chic restaurant bedecked with industrial materials, second-hand objects, and old machines…along with an unwieldy disco ball.  The wait staff was friendly, the food delicious. I reveled in my decadent ravioli, while Ezra enjoyed a fresh and flavorful harvest salad.

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After lunch, EZ and I took the metro to the Tourism Office to pick up our reserved Paris Museum Pass, which would save us money on our collective visits to Paris’ museums and historical sights, while also allowing us to cut certain lines/queues.  We then walked to our first proper stop, soaking in the sights of enchanting cafes, bistros, boulangeries (bakeries), and brasseries (relaxed restaurants/breweries), along with stately old structures.

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Finally, we arrived at our first stop: Tuileries Garden, which was quite near the Louvre (although we were saving that time-suck for the last day) and within viewing distance of the Eiffel Tower’s spire (in fact, we spotted the tip of the tower from many parts of Paris…it’s almost impossible to get lost when you have the Eiffel Tower as a guidepost).  We meandered around the arch between the gardens and the Louvre, then wandered through the lovely gardens that had served royal purposes centuries ago. We paid tribute to the many captivating sculptures along the garden path before enjoying glasses of wine by the water feature.





Next, we walked toward the Champs Elysees, passing some embellished fountains, lampposts, and structures along the way.  Champs Elysees itself was a wide, commercial boulevard not unlike Hollywood Blvd.  The street was lined with major retailers and overpriced restaurants, and tourists swarmed on every corner. EZ and I passed a huge crowd by a movie theater, which turned out to be awaiting the premiere event for Jurassic World. We also spotted a massive Louis Vuitton store, which must have been Mecca for fashionistas worldwide.




We soon reached the Arc de Triomphe, which, while certainly impressive, wasn’t as revered as I expected. Instead of standing amidst an awed crowd, the arch sat right in the middle of a major thoroughfare, cars zipping around it without a thought.


EZ and I quickly grew tired of Champs Elysees, which, while worth seeing, was a bit of a tourist trap.  We sought a more local experience, so we hopped a metro to Canal Saint Martin, a notorious hipster hangout. And indeed, we found many such Parisian youths clustered along the canal drinking their pick of booze.  There was an abundance of “man-buns” in sight…a phenomenon that, to my chagrin, would soon spread to the U.S.  Our stroll along the canal was quite pleasant, and in straying down a side street, we stumbled upon a funky pizza joint known as the Pink Flamingo.  The pizza was fantastic, and the blushing décor was an eclectic mix of American diner nostalgia, exuberant kitschiness, and obscure musical references. We walked around the block and followed up dinner with cocktails at Bar Marcel, a chic, sleek restaurant and bar with man-buns galore.

After enjoying the bar scene for a bit, EZ and I were exhausted…and we had a chock-full day ahead of us. So we headed back to the apartment for some chill time before bed (and a nifty pull-down bed it was, at that! The Parisians sure know how to make good use of space).

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To be continued… Read Day 2


A Many-Splendored Thing

When Godfrey Chasm woke up on Sunday afternoon with crusty eyes and cottonball-mouth, he felt groggy but relieved. He hadn’t slept a wink for almost two weeks, not when thoughts of his newly minted ex-girlfriend, Lenora Lymehart, tormented him like a storm crashing down upon a man already drowning. But last night, somehow…last night, he had found peace.

“How you doing there, tiger?” a soft voice asked, jerking Godfrey out of his somnolent haze and alerting him to the fact that Lenora was lying in bed next to him. She was wearing the pink babydoll nightdress he’d bought her last year on Valentine’s Day, coiling a lock of dyed-black hair (naturally ashy-blonde) around her index finger.

“Lenny! What – what are you doing here?!” Godfrey was so gob smacked, so alarmed by the sight of her, that he tangled his limbs in the bedsheets while trying to eject himself out of bed, ending up cocooned on the floor.

Lenora emitted a dainty giggle. “Oh, Chasm. Don’t you remember? Last night, I came back. I came back to you. I voided our breakup.” She leaned down to pick up a corner of the bedsheet and began to pull, unraveling Godfrey inch by inch.  “It’s like it never happened. We can pick up where we left off.”

Now extricated from the sheets and exposed to the elements of Lenora, Godfrey felt his face flush candy-apple-red, that hue particular to overdrinking Asians like himself, the very color his face gleamed last night in a drunken stupor as he let Lenora into his apartment. What had happened? Why had she returned?

“Wh- what made you change your mind?” Godfrey asked, willing his limbs to cooperate as he scrambled to his feet.

“Does it matter?” Lenora smiled primly, her spindly legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “I’m back. Forget I ever left.  Now…shall we go to Brook’s Diner? Or do you feel like trying someplace new?”

Although Godfrey hadn’t answered, still flummoxed by the turn of events, Lenora jumped off the bed and strolled into the bathroom, leaving the door wide open. Several moments later, the water was pattering down like a summer rain. Steam obscured the figure of Lenora in the frosted shower glass, rendering her a mythical creature in the mist. She began to hum La Vie En Rose in rich, dulcet tones.

Godfrey sat down on the bed, struggling to gather his thoughts and feelings, which had been flung far and wide by Hurricane Lenny.

Lenora was back. She had changed her mind. This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? Wasn’t she all that he yearned for, pined for? Hadn’t he wept saltwater lakes over the thought of her lavender perfume and vampirish smile?

But then he recalled what Lenora had said, the morning she had broken up with him. As the sun splintered through the stain glass window of the living room in a kaleidoscope of dusty rays, Godfrey had knelt down on one knee and opened the velvet box in his hand, revealing a vintage pearl ring. But before he could pose the question, Lenora had shrieked, “No! Don’t say it! I can’t! I don’t want to be with you any more…it’s over, Godfrey.”  The shifting patchwork of stained light on her face transformed Lenora into an otherworldly creature, into somebody, something, that Godfrey could neither recognize nor understand.  Then, tears watering her face, she had run off without another word.

Godfrey had tried calling, tried visiting, but to no avail. One day, a box of his things appeared outside his doorstep: his old NYU sweatshirt, his Paul Simon records, his toothbrush and razor and happy-face boxers. It was really over.

Except now…now it wasn’t.

Godfrey ventured into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. Lenora continued to hum blithely. It really was as though nothing had happened. His finger drew a smiley face on the fogged vanity mirror.

Godfrey returned to the bedroom and dressed with care. He gelled his black hair into an artful James Dean coif in front of the closet mirror. Then he took the ring box out of his sock drawer and went to the living room.

He waited.

Lenora came in about ten minutes later, damp hair swirled back into a bun, redolent with lavender. Her signature black-rimmed cateye glasses emphasized the dark pennies of her pupils.  She was wearing a cherry-print black dress. The same dress she had worn the day she broke up with him.

But before Godfrey could propose, Lenora knelt down on one knee and said, “I have a proposal.”

Stunned, Godfrey watched and listened.

“I love you,” Lenora said. The ray of stained-glass-filtered sun on her face was a pure violet, a moody spotlight. “When I broke up with you, it was because I was afraid. Afraid of forever. It’s not that I didn’t want to be with you forever; it’s that I didn’t want to do anything forever. I don’t want to stay at the same job forever, or live in the same place forever. I want my life to be full of variety and spontaneity and transformation.”

Godfrey felt a pinch in the core of his stomach, a painful blockage in his throat. “Lenny? I know that about you, I do…but being together forever doesn’t mean being the same forever.”

Lenora grinned, her sharp incisors a smidge longer than the other teeth. “I know, Godfrey. That’s what I realized. I know now that even if we’re together forever, you and I won’t be the same. We will change and grow and become better people because of each other. But we’ll do it together.”

Godfrey felt moisture spring to his eyes; his heart began to swell with emotion.

“When we were apart, I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted,” Lenora continued. “But I realized that variety is meaningless without a constant. And you are my constant.”

She pulled out a small box that had been tucked within her bosom, and opened it. Inside was a secret decoder ring from a cereal box. “I am so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, and I will spend a lifetime making it up to you. I want to spend forever in a variety of scenarios with you, and only you. Godfrey Chasm, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Godfrey Chasm said. And then he knelt down, too, with his own ring box. “Lenora Lymehart, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Lenora Lymehart said. She and Godfrey exchanged rings, sliding them onto one another’s fingers like sacred rosary beads onto a string.

They embraced, but in a completely new and unexpected way, in a whirlwind of tenderness and ferocity.

Once the tears and laughter had subsided, Lenora’s stomach began to grumble. “I’m so hungry,” she said, hugging Godfrey’s arm theatrically. “Shall we go to Brook’s Diner? Or…”

“Let’s try someplace new,” Godfrey said. And they walked hand in hand into the constant, golden sun.

let's read

Help Create A Haven for Underserved Children

Dear readers, I rarely ask for help in this way, but this is a cause that’s very near and dear to my heart. I’ve helped tutor these hardworking, adorable, underserved kids in South LA regularly over the last year, and I’ve fallen in love with their positive spirit and determination to grow…but our Let’s Read program just doesn’t have the resources to help them reach their full potential. If you are inclined to donate any amount, it would be much appreciated! Also, if you are in the LA area and interested in volunteering for this program, let me know! THANK YOU!

The following text and photos were created by a fellow tutor/volunteer, Hitomi:


Spain Trip – The Splendors of San Sebastián

San Sebastián is a gem off the northern coast of Spain – a seaside escape, foodie paradise, and charming historic city all melted into one. After spending a few days in Barcelona and another couple of days in the Spanish countryside, EZ, GS, NR, and I passed through hours of stunning scenery in our rental car before finally reaching this picturesque little town.

Day 1

We entered San Sebastián through Centro Romántico,the newer part of the city. While Centro Romántico still possessed a captivating turn-of the-century aura with its stately architecture, I was surprised by how modern it felt. Rows of popular retail stores and other city staples lined the floor level to make up a bustling commercial and shopping district. Still, the contemporary culture was kept clean and compact, with none of the Big City grime and grit. And a hint of the salty sea laced the air.

A public bus chugged by, touting free Wi-Fi, and we whipped out our phones to try and catch some internet. We scoured the streets for parking near our Airbnb lodging and finally settled on a temporary underground spot beneath a market.


Our Airbnb lodging looked like it was sponsored by IKEA –all black and white with red accents, clean lines and basic geometry. The cylindrical bathroom with circular mirrors seemed futuristic, like some portal that would beam you up. The lodging was advertised as a “beach cave,” and now we could see why – not only was it minutes from the beach, but it was partially underground…which meant that when we turned off all the brilliant white lights, everything was cloaked in pitch-blackness. It was a pretty cool space with decent amenities, but it seemed to lack true personality, somehow. And I’m not sure I was entirely comfortable with cave living. Perhaps a treehouse would suit me better…


After we got settled in and the boys moved our rental car to a less costly parking spot, we got ready for our first night of foodie heaven in San Sebastián. You see, San Sebastián is world-renowned for its mouthwatering cuisine; many of its restaurants glitter with Michelin stars, granting San Sebastián the notable distinction of holding the second-highest Michelin stars per capita in the world. The city is particularly famous for its pintxos, which are small plates (or tapas) in the Basque tradition.

Side note – San Sebastián is located in the Basque region of Spain; the Basques are an indigenous ethnic group that inhabits this region, and they tend to overzealously employ the letter “X” in Basque language…hence, “pintxos.” The letters “TX” together make the “CH” sound, so “pintxos” is pronounced “pinchos.”

Our group set out into the cobblestone alleyways of San Sebastián’s Parte Vieja (Old Town), where most of the popular pintxos bars lay in wait for us. We were lucky to have visited during the off-season, so we didn’t have to contend with massive crowds of tourists. Most of the tourists that were there seemed to be European, especially French, as San Sebastián is a mere 12 miles from the French border.


We strolled from bar to bar in the mild night air. Among our epicurean stops were Zeruko, Borda Berri, and Atari, plus a handful of others whose names I’ve forgotten. At each place, we ordered beer or wine, accompanied by an assortment of pintxos for sharing. Many of these pintxos were divinely crafted, with unexpected pairings of ingredients. I don’t even know how to begin to describe them, so I’ll let the photos do the talking.





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To our pleasant surprise, our gourmet gastronomic fare was actually quite affordable. These same dishes in America would have cost a small fortune!

NR and I followed up our parade of pintxos with dessert – cheesecake for her, and chocolate soufflé for me! Yum…



After such a feast, our group needed to “walk it off.” We wandered around Old Town a bit and admired the architecture. NR felt an empty plaza beckon to her – so, of course, she immediately frolicked into the center of it.


We continued walking until we found ourselves overlooking the beach. The dark waters ebbed and flowed with a gentle shushing sound, circled by a string of golden lights from the shoreline. Our eyelids begin to droop.



Soon, we headed back to our lodging and got ready for bed. We looked forward to seeing the beach in its full glory the next day.

Day 2

Remember I mentioned how pitch-black our “cave” lodging became when the lights were off? Well, this deep darkness caused our group to oversleep the next morning, since it still looked like night when we first opened our eyes. By the time we realized the deception of the dark, the clock had already struck noon.

Luckily, San Sebastián was not so much a city for sight-seeing as it was an escape for leisure. So we didn’t have to rush to a museum or landmark. Instead, we took our time getting ready and ambled down to a little café, where we enjoyed some ravioli and pintxos on the sunny patio.



We also enjoyed reading a certain item that was “lost in translation” on the menu…see if you can spot it! Definitely chuckle-worthy.


After lunch, our group continued to walk around the city, taking in the gorgeous canal and pristine streets.




We made our way to Playa de Gros, also known as Zurriola beach, which is bookended by two lush, green hills. Nestled against the hill on the left (Mount Ulía) were a cluster of buildings, including the Kursaal Conference Centre, along with a striking peninsula of large, cubic rocks.



Zurriola beach is claimed by the locals, who love to surf its waters and sunbathe upon its sands. I did a double-take as I realized that most of the sunbathers were topless…and that most of these topless sunbathers were older women! How nice, to have such a positive body image at all ages and in all shapes…


Our group was drawn like magnets to the large cubic rocks, which looked so bizarre and interesting against the natural landscape…it was as though we had stumbled upon some alien terrain.




We continued our exploration in a nearby neighborhood, where EZ was accosted by a weird girl in a white mask. She was a part of a group of masked girls engaging in performance art on the sidewalk, hugging strangers and pantomiming indecipherable messages.

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Once past the crew of masked misfits, we popped into a “Made in China” store (a small shop crammed with all sorts of plastic items). Since my sunglasses had fallen down a well in Parc Guell back in Barcelona, I bought a pair of cheap “Ru-Bu” sunglasses (Ray-Ban knockoffs) to tide me over for the rest of the trip. We passed some more stores, including an adorable chorizo shop, and stopped by a market to pick up some cherries.


As we approached the promenade near the other popular beach, Playa de la Concha, we were met with resort hotels, well-marked bike paths, meticulously manicured green spaces, and peculiar-looking trees springing up from the pavement of the plaza (they looked like some strange cousin of the Joshua or yucca tree).




After getting a taste of Playa de la Concha from the promenade, our group decided that this was the beach for us – it was so peaceful and relatively vacant, although it was known to fill up with huge crowds of partying tourists when in season. We headed back to our cave to change into swimsuits and grab towels, then popped into the nearby market to pick up savory puff pastries, thinly sliced salchichon, and wine to go with the cherries we’d already bought.

Playa de la Concha was one of the loveliest beaches I’ve ever seen. The coastline was a perfect, sweeping curve of froth-tipped cerulean sea and silky sand against verdant hills tiered with beautiful buildings. The other side of Mount Ulía was also visible from this vantage point.


We lay down on our towels and just let our worries melt away, sharing the wine and food between us. EZ listened to a podcast on his headphones and I lost myself in a book while GS and NR tanned and napped. At some point, EZ and GS got up and wandered into the ocean for a dip before returning to the warmth of their towels. In the distance, we could hear the sound of exotic percussion as street performers drummed out a rhythm that felt tropical and rousing at first, but then grew repetitive. After a while, I got up and enjoyed a walk along the shore (while EZ, unbeknownst to me, acted as my paparazzi).



After a few sweet hours of relaxation in paradise, our group returned to the lodging to clean up and get ready for another night of fine wining-and-dining. On the way into Old Town, we encountered a beautiful little public garden-park, Plaza de Gipuzkoa. The garden was landscaped with a grassy area, glistening jade pond, clusters of violet and yellow flowers, and an assortment of other fetching plants. Elegant, white swans glided atop the pond. Not one sign of litter or vandalism was in sight, although this garden area was open to all in the middle of a city block.



On the other side of the park, a round patch of yellow flowers doubled as a giant clock. Our group approached this clock at precisely the right time, witnessing with wonder as the big hand shifted left to strike 7:30, sparking a flurry of bell tolls. Upon further inspection, we learned the temple-shaped structure behind the flower-clock acted as a weather station.


We continued onward as our stomachs began to grumble. Our first foodie stop for the night was actually not a pintxo place, but a San Sebastián staple we’d been eying with temptation the night before: Bar Nestor, known for its txuleta (beef chops) and tomato salad. We ordered both, along with a plate of smoked peppers and some wine. The server came to our table holding two cuts of raw meat and asked which one we wanted. We pointed, he nodded, and that was that. EZ, who was so famished he couldn’t wait for the food to be prepared, slipped away to a nearby kabob stand for a quick “snack” (he can’t resist kabob). But when he returned to Bar Nestor and our shareable meal arrived, he still managed to show a healthy appetite.






The food was delicious and, again, quite reasonably priced. Because we were a bit full, our next few stops were for wine, sans the pintxos. At A Fuego Negro, we enjoyed a few drinks amid an artsy, rocker ambiance. A red-hot neon sign glowed on the back brick wall; one side-wall was papered with posters for rock bands, while the other side-wall featured framed drawings of pintxos rendered as famous monsters (like Slimer from Ghostbusters).


As we continued to walk through Old Town in search of our next stop, we came upon a strange piece of modern artwork installed on a historic church. The looping, milky-white creation looked out of place against the old stone of the church. EZ was mesmerized by it. He stood gazing at the art piece (called “The Harmony of Sound”) for a few minutes in contemplation before snapping some photos.



Our group capped off the night by walking into a completely empty dance club and tearing it up on the floor. Nearly all of the songs were current American chart-toppers, with a few Latin-pop hits thrown in for good measure. GS bust out his professional ballroom dance moves while the rest of us tried to keep up. Neon green flecks of light swirled across the walls as we all two-stepped and waltzed and twirled and dipped. The bartender watched us warily, cleaning a glass with a towel.

Finally, once we were all worn out and the club was shutting down, we made our way back to the cave. It had been a fantastic day in San Sebastián. And early tomorrow morning, we would be en route to Bilbao!

To be continued…

Start from the beginning and learn more about my travels in Spain:

Spain Trip: Bewitching Barcelona Day 0.5

Spain Trip: Bewitching Barcelona Day 1

Spain Trip: Bewitching Barcelona Day 2

Spain Trip: Bewitching Barcelona Day 3 (Gaudi Day)

Spain Trip: The Charming Countryside