What enters your mind when someone mentions Paris? As a novice I pictured men with red roses spouting serenades, lovers in river boats and delicious delicacies in sidewalk cafes. Never did I imagine the summer heat that hugged the city, extending its suffocating tendrils into every crevice. We spent most of our visit attempting an onslaught on airconditioned venues in an attempt to escape the 40 degree heat we were enshrouded by.

This aside, I was serenaded by no men with red roses, and the river boats were a little less attractive than I imagined, but the sidewalk cafes lived up to my expectations. That is, in everything except the coffee, by which I was rather disappointed. The food culture in France was most impressive. Like most things, they approach it with style and a desire for finesse. Coming from Argentina, I felt like I was fine dining at every meal!

My lasting impressions of the French are embodied in an experience I had buying a pair of shoes from a well dressed, middle aged man. First, he measured my foot, declaring that it was not actually so small, only narrow with a very long long big toe. Then he proceeded to fit my foot with each shoe, lacing them himself and telling me just which ones were ‘good’ and ‘not good.’ Every movement of his body had a theatrical flare and his appreciation of the finer things in life were strikingly obvious. I left with a pair of German made shoes which were perhaps a little on the pricey side, but I had been infused by a need for quality spending even 15 minutes in this mans presence. 

During our 4 days in Paris, we walked a lot! We visited the Eiffel Tower, roamed the Pompidou, marveled at the stain glass windows of the Saint Chapel, ate snails and sat in countless cafes. I left feeling that it would be a city to which I would return.