A little while ago we had a whirlwind 24 hours in Paris. After an overnight flight from Reykjavik, where we’d barely slept for a week of chasing the northern lights, we’d imagined a fairly quiet day wandering, maybe an afternoon nap and an early dinner to catch up on some sleep before we continued traveling to the south of France. It was going to be a pause in a favourite place but not much more.
What ended up happening however, was we spent the morning exploring, a long lunch meeting new friends and Jacques being offered a job he couldn’t refuse, a pre-dinner drink catching up with old friends, and the evening working on a spontaneous photo shoot not on but in the seine. And we were up for two days straight by the time our heads hit the pillow. A surprising, spontaneous and exciting 24 hours it was.
7am: Coffee first. It might not be the best coffee in the world, but because it's in Paris it taste just right.
9am: Stroll to Ile de la Cité, past the grand hospital to Place Vendome, where we watch the cafe owner open up for the day, and an elderly lady walk her tiny dog.
10am: Visit Notre Dame and browse the Shakespeare & Co bookshop, imagining life as a writer, floundering in cafes by day and by night.
1pm: Lunch in the Marais and browsing even more bookshops.
3pm: A stroll along the seine, through gardens, by open windows, making up stories of who might live inside.
5pm: A pre-dinner drink, bien sur.
8pm: Sunset at the Eiffel Tower
11pm: Pizza with new friends, then a taxi ride across Paris, glimpsing grand interiors as lights shine conspicuously onto the street. We pass a grand building with high windows, a ballroom, or a theatre, perhaps, and I head to bed with images of a grand evening, ballgowns, tuxedos, and effortlessly beautiful Parisians inside.