Paris is alive in the small moments, those fleeting, underwhelming moments that are often forgotten in the wake of the city's grandeur.
Like when we brunched on sugar-sprinkled crêpes in a corner café down the street from the Panthéon and lazily watched through the transparent, whispery steam from our morning mugs of hot cocoa (me) and coffee (him) as students in scarves hurried to their classes at the nearby Sorbonne.
Or when a little old man wearing a denim newsboy cap played a Turkish tune on his fiddle in our train car before hopping off at his stop on the M10 line.
Or when the waitress at our first Parisian restaurant noticed how nervous we were about ordering our meals in French and took the time to teach my husband—whose extent of French knowledge was “Bonjour!” and how to ask where the bathroom is—what each item on the menu meant.
This is my account of those insignificant moments—as a fashion and lifestyle blogger, first-time Parisian traveler and newlywed.
Allons-y ! Let's go!
Like when we brunched on sugar-sprinkled crêpes in a corner café down the street from the Panthéon and lazily watched through the transparent, whispery steam from our morning mugs of hot cocoa (me) and coffee (him) as students in scarves hurried to their classes at the nearby Sorbonne.
Or when a little old man wearing a denim newsboy cap played a Turkish tune on his fiddle in our train car before hopping off at his stop on the M10 line.
Or when the waitress at our first Parisian restaurant noticed how nervous we were about ordering our meals in French and took the time to teach my husband—whose extent of French knowledge was “Bonjour!” and how to ask where the bathroom is—what each item on the menu meant.
This is my account of those insignificant moments—as a fashion and lifestyle blogger, first-time Parisian traveler and newlywed.
Allons-y ! Let's go!
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