Ryne and I are home from the most glorious trip away. This busy season of having and breast-feeding babies leaves much to be desired in the way of alone time together, so every time we have a break between kids we get away- just the two of us. As soon as Conrad was done breastfeeding in February we cashed in our miles for a springtime trip to Paris- where everything is lovely and people-watching from a cafe, ivy-covered railings, and endless glasses of rosé are part of the cultural fabric.
We kissed our babies goodbye around noon Colorado time on a Monday and flew overnight to Frankfurt. Tuesday morning we landed in Frankfurt and received an alert that our flight to Paris had been cancelled due to a Paris air traffic control strike. After being rebooked on multiple different flights, we ended up in Munich with tickets on a flight getting into Paris around 1am on Wednesday. After 24+ hours of redirected flights, sprinting through airports, and sleeping in lounges, we made it to Paris. Traveling without kids is a Piece. Of. Cake.
Despite falling into bed around 2am, we couldn’t resist getting up early to experience the city in the morning light. We stayed in a gorgeous hotel in the 9th arrondisement with picturesque views only a block away from the Opera metro station. We’ve navigated the city so many times with strollers and infants strapped to our chests that traveling without them made the city feel so simple and homey. We took the metro to Pont Marie and strolled across the bridge to Ile Saint Louis with coffees in hand (my love language) to a quiet corner breakfast spot. We sipped our cappuccinos slowly and soaked in SUCH good quality time. What dreams are made of, friends.
After breakfast we walked past Notre Dame where the flowers were in full bloom. The weather was cool and so lovely. We wandered up the river to the Louvre and stopped at the sweetest book stands along the way. The museum was crowded, but we said an obligatory hello to the Mona Lisa and a few other famous pieces anyways before heading to Saint Germaine (where accordion players float “La Vie en Rose” through the air of side streets) for lunch and shopping. We ate at a café street-side table and afternoon people watched with glasses of rosé in hand. I loved getting lost in the little side streets and popping out in unexpected places. We meandered until dusk, grabbed a quick dinner, and then sauntered back to the hotel for an early-ish bedtime. Jet lag is real.
The next day, we hiked the familiar streets towards Montmartre for an early breakfast at our favorite spot (probably ever!). The neighborhood was still waking up and the cafe was quiet. The last time we were there was early May last year. The four of us stumbled into the packed cafe after getting caught in a sudden downpour and Ryne and I had to switch off eating breakfast so we could keep newborn Conrad content. Quite a different experience this time, but the atmosphere was very much the same. Dusty brick walls that exude old world charm. A basket of fresh oranges in the window that will surely be squeezed to perfection throughout the morning. Ryne had a croque madame while I had my usual avocado toast. We shared a waffle and made eyes at each other over coffee. So dreamy.
After breakfast, we raced to a cooking (baking?) class geared toward traditional French pastries. Coming from the girl who once exploded a cake and can’t properly hard boil an egg without googling it, I was prepared to make a mess and grab a crêpe afterwards. The class size was small, the windows were large, and our instructor spoke with a thick French accent. We made beautiful, buttery croissants and delicious pain au chocolat. Ryne promised to bake some for me at home and I’ll be holding him to it.
After our class, we took the metro down to Champs de Mars. The shade of the trees offered reprieve from the heat of the afternoon. We walked under them until we came up on one of our favorite areas of the park that often has empty park benches, a small food cart, and the sound of children playing at a nearby playground. We grabbed a couple of banana Nutella crêpes from the food cart and ate on a park bench with a postcard-perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, framed so distinctively by a few trees. The weather was lovely and other than the occasional elderly passerby or child chasing the pigeons, it was quiet. We talked openly about life, what we hoped for in the next 70 years, and I wondered how many more times would we sit together on that exact park bench. It was one of the most enchanting afternoons (but most things that involve Nutella are, right?).
Part two of our Paris trip to come later this week. I tried to fit it all in one post but it is way too much for anyone to read at once and I need to break to hunt down some Nutella.
