The start of my trip will be a familiar experience to post-COVID white collar workers: rushing out of the office on a Friday at 4 during my “late lunch break” to make it to the airport to catch my flight for a weekend getaway.

In retrospect, the stress I put myself through for these short trips just to make sure that I preserve my days off is worth some reflection. I can’t deny that I derive a joy from “optimising the itinerary” so that my time is “used efficiently” – but it reminds me that I sometimes like complexity for the sake of it. If I cared a little bit more about fun and comfort, instead of focussing solely on my “schedule” that I try so hard to control… maybe my colleague wouldn’t say to me “wow you always look so serious as if you’re solving the world’s biggest diplomatic crisis”. I guess I like to control what I can, which shows why the way I live my life is still, at 26, childish. And it reveals how much capitalism and modernity have occupied it.

Lucky for me, my journey was almost practically stress-free given that it was on the Eurostar. It took me a shocking 15 minutes to get through security and immigration… a truly beautiful experience.

I sipped a tea thinking about all the ways trains are the best form of transport, then got a little bit more work done before boarding started. I shut my laptop, brought out my Paris reading material, and enjoyed a relaxing journey to Paris.

Premiyear Amperession

One of the first sensory experiences I had in the Gare du Nord was hearing the Paris metro tune. It took me back to a 2022 trip I made to Paris, where I tried Peruvian food for the first time. On that trip I also had the best shawarma ever from a Syrian bistro called Chez Paul. I was remembering that Paris is an incredibly diverse city with lots to explore.

This was also reflected in what my eyes were seeing: white, brown, yellow and black, colour was not restricted! But my eyes then spied blues and greens: police and military officers patrolled the station with intense looking assault rifles. This brought back another memory, taking me back to 2010 under the Eiffel Tower, where my brother and I noticed that the soldiers were carrying FAMAS guns, which we recognised because of our exposure to Call of Duty: Modern Warface 2 at such a young age. Isn’t that insane? My brother was 8!

After a light dinner with my friends Neil, Juan and Arnauld, we took line 5 to Arnauld’s near Ourcq… which I won’t try pronouncing as previous attempts all resulted in throbbing headaches. My lack of preparation gave me a characteristically Parisian experience: jumping over the barriers.

I was trying to be a law-abiding tourist by trying to buy a metro card. But the machines only allow top-ups, not the purchasing of new cards. There was so staff in the station to assist me, and no internet or cellular signal so I couldn’t download the app. I tried to double use a ticket from one of my friends and that failed. I then asked an Italian Parisian for help, and she seemed very confused as to why the machines didn’t have an option for printing cards. She then offered for me to tailgait her… I tried but neither of our brains were braining so my suitcase got stuck. I felt bad for wasting her time and told her to go head and that I’ll find a solution… until one of my friends noticed that one of the “do not enter” doors was open from the inside… and so that simply, I went through. There was no issue coming out since the Paris metro doesn’t have a tap-out system.

The walk from the station was very pleasant. Away from the hustle and bustle of the city in the 19th, the buildings were still stunning and there was little to no signs of graffiti, which I found quite fascinating. I told myself that the artists of the city appreciate the architecture inside the periph¹ so much that they wouldn’t dare ruin it.

I slept thinking that I was very happy to be in Paris and with my friends. I was excited to explore the city in the morning.

Se Ancroyabl

Paris is beautiful. It is said a lot but perhaps not enough because there is hardly a sight where I thought to myself “hmm this isn’t that great”.

Our itinerary started with a taxi ride to the Eiffel Tower, during which we drove through the periph and passed by the Arc de Triumphe. The periph ride was interesting for the walls separating Paris from the balieues were almost uniformly graffiti’d. The buildings on the other side looked very different to those in Paris: new builds, taller towers and large blocks of glass.

I’m very curious about life outside the ring road, and perhaps I’ll go to explore what it’s like sometime. Given the buildings on the other side I suspect it would be far more interesting than the vegetation that lies outside the M25…

We walked a lot.

From the Eiffel Tower we walked westwards along the swimmable Seine, and on our paths saw the faces of runners who all looked to be in pain. Why this is the case I don’t know, when running is meant to be such a liberating experience!

Once we got to Bridge Alexandre III, we crossed over to the other side. The bridge is beautiful, not because it is grand in and of itself but its low-rise nature gives you full view of what’s North and South: it was only after we’d crossed that I looked back to see the grand Hotel Invalide. To my left and right were the stunning Petit and Grand Palaces, and here we spied a few sculptures of historical figures.

Once we saw the grand buildings we continued west along the Champs Elysees towards the Concorde Square. The Egyptian Obelisk was beautiful, and the fountains next to it were memorable enough that I was able to recognise them, months later, in a game of TimeGuessr!

We then continued north towards a Pantheon-looking like structure, which ended up being a church. I was impressed by the intricacy of the architecture, and felt connected to a deep tapestry of human history and achievement.

We moved on until we passed by the uninspiring Vendome Square. We went towards Louvre and accidentally passed one of Cedric Grolet’s Patisserries, which was PACKED with people waiting to get in. Moments later in the Tuileries Gardens we saw cardboard boxes from the Patisserie in the trash. I interpreted this as commentary on the quality of the product.

After the Louvre we walked through Rivoli street, which was busy in the best sense of the word: the sun was out and people were making the most of their lives. The area was posh but did not reek of arrogance.

We had walked quite a bit and were all feeling it in physically and in our stomachs. We fed ourselves at Fresh Noodles. The cucumber salad here was SO good, and it reminded me that I had excellent Asian food the last time I was in Paris as well. Given that I’d been going through a phase of falling out of love with the food scene in London, this experience made me think that perhaps Paris is the place to be.

After this reset, we checked out the Rivoli 59 gallery. It’s a multi-storey building with rooms where artists are working on their projects, but they also have their previous artworks on display so it kind of functions like a gallery. There was a lot of art and I don’t want to flood the blog with them, but I highly recommend visiting if you go to Paris. It is also one of the only free galleries in the city, so that’s a plus!

After that we decided to cab to Montmartre to see the sunset. I’d have enjoyed it much more had it not been for the massive crowds. The vibe at the top of this hill was almost identical to that of the hill in Marseille where the Basilica is.

Belek! Miskine!

So far everything we had seen had been posh or touristy Paris. This changed during our walk to the 19th from Montmarte, because our path took us through Barbès, a neighbourhood that has a reputation for being sketchy.

As soon as we exited the Montmarte area the vibe became very busy, but unlike the relaxed busyness of Rivoli this was more hectic: men standing on the sides of the street chatting loudly and sitting hot drinks, open coffee houses full of uncles talking politics, heavy car traffic through narrow streets with lots of stimulating lights and honks.

The demographic was also markedly different to the other parts of Paris: little to no white people and a larger proportion of North Africans and Black people.

However, by no means is the area dodgy. I would describe it as a slightly roudier Edgware Road. It is definitely louder and different than the rest of Paris though, and given the huge concentration of what look to be single men, I’d suspect it would be really uncomfortable to walk through as a woman.

As we walked through my eyes piqued a strange looking flatbread and I dragged my friends in. The guy serving was Algerian and despite me mustering my best Arabic communication was barely achieved, at best. I learnt that the bread is made from semolina. I couldn’t catch the name, but having researched it afterwards I think it is Matlouh. He told me that it should be eaten with a stew, but I love my semolina so much that I was enjoying nibbling on it as the night went on.

We Need to Talk About Baguettes

I couldn’t write about Paris without shitting on the French (just a little). But I have to be honest and say that some of the least flattering steoreotypes about them are either false, or they actually represent good things about them:

• “They always strike” meaning that they actually fight for some of their rights…
• “They are unfriendly” mostly referring to Parisians, but this very starkly runs counter to my experiences in Paris. In fact I’d argue that there is a strong subset of the young population that are very open to the anglophone world

What I personally find unacceptable is the belief among even the most ardent haters of the French, that baguette is the holy grail of baking. I find that this reveals a deep lack of exposure to different kinds of breads.

Sure, baguettes are good for carrying the flavour of things paired with them: they are so neutral and therefore work when you dip them into your soups, have them with salted butter, or a spread like nutella.

But if you are an actual bread lover like me, and you get turned on by the smell of Iranian flatbreads baking in a tandoor, and you enjoy bread on its own straight from the oven, then you couldn’t possibly reduce yourself to think that baguettes are so good. They have no interesting flavour, eating them on their own hurts your jaws and teeth, their shape is not versatile at all, their insides are so soft that if your butter isn’t liquid you’ll likely tear the slice of bread open when spreading… they make no sense! I wouldn’t even consider them if I were making a list of my favourite breads. Give me barbari, rye, injera or arepas instead!

Invader

There was less graffiti than I had hoped, but I found something arguable more interesting: pixel art!

It turns out that there is an artist called Invader that puts their pixel art around the city. There is a list of them that you can find online, so you can “collect” the art pieces, and the artist also goes beyond Paris: you can find many of their pieces scattered around Bethnal Green in London.

That said, Paris has a TONNE of them, and some are so creative that I couldn’t stop myself from smiling when I saw them!

The only graffiti art that I found worth taking a photo of was on a side street.

O Re Voir

Our last day was a little short. Arnauld and I tried to use the rental Velib bikes, but couldn’t get accounts created on the app! I was very disappointed, as these seemed quite an affordable and fun way to get around the city. I had very little luck with the public transport system this trip, and I think it’s mostly to do with bad design²!

The first sight we saw on our last day was Notre Dame. It took me back to my childhood again, but not to the family trip, rather to me and my brother playing Age of Empires 3 and me destroying him using my Cuirassiers. The French civilisation card selection page would show Notre Dame. So while I’m not Parisian I do have a connection to Paris. I am connected to many cities and countries in a way that very little of their inhabitants are connected to mine, showing truly the expansiveness of empire.

We then spent some time at the Shakespeare bookshop, which had some really old manuscripts and a very cool reading spot at the first floor. I would say that given it is one of the only free things to do in Paris, you should see it. However it’s not something that you would miss out on. The books on display are there to cater to as wide of an audience as possible, so I didn’t find much that was super interesting.

We then checked out the Pantheon, which was fine. Apparently its one of the venues where naturalisation ceremonies are held in France, which is cool since you are in the place where “distinguished” French citizens of the past are buried.

Finally, we visited the grand mosque of Paris, and here we almost got scammed. The security guard smelled our touristy clothes and told us that we need to pay, since we are not muslim. I responded by “I am muslim, can they come with me?” and in shame the man let us all through without charging anything.

Despite this experience, I have to admit that the mosque was a nice change of scenery from the buildings we had seen earlier. The courtyard in the middle provided a sense of serenity different to that provided by a church, given its open nature.

This may have been my favourite building in Paris. Not so much because of the architecture, but the colour was a lovely change from the rest of the buildings that we saw.

We didn’t do much for the rest of the night, as Juan and I had to get up early the next morning to catch our flight and train respectively.

I woke up sleep deprived and dysregulated the next morning. It was very busy on the metro, and I was alarmed that almost everyone but me was black. I assumed that they were the banlieusards who commute daily into Paris for work, and it was a stark reminder that racism and segregation are still very much problems in the 21st century.

I resigned myself to a mediocre sandwich from Paul, and silently enjoyed my train ride back to London.

1. The ring road that separates Paris from the banlieues (suburbs) ↩︎
2. I am almost certain that the Velib bikes weren’t working for two reasons: 1) they required a French number, and 2) they required a French bank account ↩︎