France | My Beautiful Places

When you wake up on a Sunday morning and the second you open your eyes you realise you’re in Paris, you know it’s not gonna be an ordinary boring Sunday. I jumped out of bed barefoot, pull back the curtains and opened the window from the small balcony of my room. I was at the top floor, in a 400 years old building and 200 years old hotel, on Rue Saint-Antoine, in Les Marais, two minutes away from Bastille. What a gorgeous spring sunny day it was! The rush in the street was the sign that a new day has started and I had to quickly become a part of it.

I had already in mind that this 5th visit in Paris to be a little different. I wanted to see the other face of my favourite city, not just the famous places I’m so found of, but the places where tourists and even Parisians don’t usually go for a Sunday walk. So after an amazing Saturday that has ended at 5am, I was determined to discover a few hidden gems in Paris.

The first destination was a street known as the most beautiful street in Paris; happily, it was quite close to where I was and I decided to walk. On my way, I stopped a little at Bastille Market, a flea market opened on Sundays and Thursdays, to wander a bit among the stalls full of regional products, fruits, vegetables, oysters and everything you might think of, and why not, have a cheap and nice breakfast there. The moment I laid my eyes on a stall full of tens of types of cheese, I knew I have met my breakfast: black truffles cheese. I left happy, eating small pieces of divine tasting cheese from a plastic bag.

In 15 minutes I found Rue Cremieux. If not the most beautiful, certainly the most colourful street in Paris. And the most “Instagramed” apparently. I took a few photos, of course… and played with a gorgeous Persian white fluffy cat, who was getting its daily admiration dose while posing in an opened window. Then I headed to Gare de Lyon, at 5 minutes away, to take the metro which was suppose to take me to my next stop: Little Sri Lanka.

The top semi-secret and un-touristy Paris neighbourhood was anything but the fancy city of Paris I knew. The moment I went out from La Chapelle metro station, I was in a different city, on another continent. Shops selling Indian sarees, opulent dresses with large golden necklaces, stones, silk, all shinning and sparkling, right next to tinny shops with spices, old cell phones, accessories, indian food, there it was everything. From men with large moustaches and coloured turbans, eating rice with their hands in small and dark restaurants, to guys sitting in the corners of the streets doing I got no idea what, to women wearing proudly the red Bindi on their forehead. Now I believe those who say in Paris there are parts of it where you don’t feel as in Paris. Even though I did not feel unsafe, I was alert and I wouldn’t risk to walk those streets after dark.

I had one more stop to complete my wish of getting to know Paris better. The 3rd on my list was Belleville. Don’t judge it by the name cause it doesn’t reflect the beauty of the area, which looks more like any city getto, with old grey buildings where no one seemed to live, closed shops with empty windows, small fast foods with no clients and plenty of graffiti. Rue Denoyer is a masterpiece of street art though, with about 30m of walls completely covered in graffiti, with activism messages and photographers trying to get the best shoot of the place.

I was heading to my beloved Montmartre, thinking that it was enough of something else for one weekend, when, passing Jaures and Stalingrad stations I really saw from the train the streets and areas there, where, indeed, I wouldn’t wanna be not even during the day. Groups of young men gathered at the corners of the streets, people, probably migrants living in tents, others sleeping on the pavement. The contrast is striking compared to central fancy Paris.

Right in front of Abbesse I met my friend, who’s living in Paris and for the next 10 minutes he gave me a speech about how reckless I was to wander alone in those areas. Maybe I was, a little, but I always believed you can only feel a city on its streets, but not those packed with tourists.

There are two types of people: those who like Paris and those who don’t. I’m in the 3rd category: I adore Paris! The French capital was the first city I wanted to see abroad and it was love at first sight. And so I came back, again and again, enjoying mon amour during New Years Eve, then in summer, in autumn, winter, but never in spring….

Three years have flown away since my last trip to Paris and I was missing it terribly. So I new it was about time to go back.

It was Saturday, 6am and I was flying to my favourite city for the 5th time, this time, in spring, which is said to be the best time to see Paris. I already knew how to get from Beauvais airport to Porte Maillot and from there, by metro, directly to Les Marais, where my hotel was. It was almost 10 am when I got in Place de la Bastille, coming up from the dark underground in the most beautiful sunny day of spring, with perfect blue sky and trees in leaf and blooming. Imagine the record level of my excitement since earlier that morning I was leaving my town, all covered with 20 cm of March snow-surprise…

Since check-in at the hotel was at 2pm, I left the luggage there and start my weekend in Paris. Wandering the streets in Les Marais I realised it was Saturday morning, so many markets should have been opened. I love those places, markets have recently became one of my must do’s when I’m away. I try see at least one every time I visit a new city, to get a glimpse of how people really live there, to feel the atmosphere, the rush, see the colours, the merchants and of course… taste the foods. Speaking of food, I was already starving when I got to Les Enfants Rouges market (The Red Children), the closest and best reviewed market I found in that area. It was already packed with people, locals, tourists, some very dressed up since it was in the chic Marais, all looking to buy something, either fresh products from the stalls or a lunch from the restaurants around. I saw a few vegetables and fruits I have never tasted. I like this, when a market keeps surprising me like that. It was nice wandering around but I was actually on a mission: eating something, the sooner the better, since hunger is not something I can manage with too much elegance.

But nothing seemed to call for me… and than I saw it. Right there, in the middle, it was a French gentlemen making sandwiches. Huge sandwiches, with tons of ingredients from different sorts of ham and cheese to avocado, tomatoes, lettuce, fried onion, olive oil, fresh basil, champignons… you name it. The way he was preparing each sandwich kept me in place: it was a real cooking show and the dream of any foodie. While speaking to each client, joking and repeating “Miam-Miam”, he was taking with his hands big quantities from each ingredient, one after another, from the many bowls in front of him, building a tower of them, than holding all together between the two slices of fresh bread and fixing the masterpiece with two wooden machete on a big hot plate where the cheese started melting and all the flavours were becoming the best sandwich in the world. Cause, lucky me, that’s what it was according to TripAdvisor. This was Chez Alain Miam Miam. With 5 people in front of me and other 10 behind me in just 10 minutes after, I waited there for an hour, watching Alain doing what people were praising him for so much on the internet. His black t-shirt was all covered with flour and all the other ingredients as he kept wiping his hands on it. I don’t know how the hour passed, I finally got my own best sandwich in the world, with everything you can imagine, and left the market looking for a quiet place to devour it. I found it in Square du Temple, a little park just down the Rue de Bretagne. And so it was by breakfast, lunch and dinner that Saturday, since after that all I could wish for was a big bottle of fresh orange juice and french strawberries, a spoiling moment on a bench in Place des Vosges. That place is so… Parisian and I was glad it was 2 minutes away from my hotel.

In the afternoon I had once again my favourite stroll route in Paris. Leaving from my hotel on Rue Saint Antoine, which changes its name after in Rue de Rivoli, among thousands of passers by carrying shopping bags on one of the most famous shopping streets in the world, passing by the beautiful Paris city hall, Hotel de Ville, walking along the banks of the Seine where people were enjoying a sunny afternoon sitting on the grass, close to the water, where a girl was singing and another was dancing, cause nothing is out of place in this city. Artists on the bridges were earning the bread of that day and I was heading Notre Dame Cathedral just to admire it from the bridges around. I continued walking by the Seine till I reached Pont Neuf and then Pont des Arts, now freed from the weight of all the thousands of lockers put there by lovers coming from everywhere, lockers that were still shining there three years ago.

I entered Louvre interior square. Just as beautiful as I first saw it on January 1st, 10 years ago, when my dream of visiting Paris was coming true and when I wasn’t yet bitten by the travel bug. I love sitting there in front of the large pyramid of glass, on one of the stone benches at the margin, watching people of all nations taking millions of photos. I took one, with the sun in the best position possible.

Spring was at its place in Jardin des Tuileries, right before really starting its colourful and alive show, strong enough though to have the magnolias covered with white or pink flowers and the daffodils looking pretty in contrast with the green grass. Sunset time was closer when I reached Place de la Concorde, with its always busy traffic, The Grande Roue de Paris and the Eiffel Tower rising in the orange horizon. No better place to live a perfect sunset than Pont Alexandre III. Three brides with their grooms were having photo shootings, each having around their teem of advisors for the best shot and the professional photographer.

As the dark was covering the city of love, I was heading to Champs Elysees. Each time I come to Paris this most famous boulevard has something new to show me, like the shop with Arabian perfumes in precious bottles, this time. But also many I already know, that are bringing back old memories. L’Arc de Triomphe was now without the huge French flag dancing in the wind beneath it. This didn’t seem to affect the number of people taking photos here. I crossed half of the boulevard that looked as spectacular as I remembered with all the red and white lights from the cars driving down to Concorde. After a 20 minutes walk on the fancy and empty Avenue Kleber, which stole my last forces, I got to Trocadero. A few years ago, on another Saturday evening, I danced Tango for the first time here, among other couples. The Eiffel Tower was just as bright and I watched it turning its lights off for the Earth Hour.

I did not called it a day, not yet… You just don’t do that when in Paris, on a perfect Saturday night. Went back to the hotel, this time by metro, to save the last drops of energy I had after 20 hours of being awake. Got my red lipstick on and head to Montmartre for another magical midnight in Paris, admiring the top view of my favourite city from the stairs of Sacre Coeur, packed with people at that late hour, strolling on Place du Tertre while all the artist are gone, having a glass of Bordeaux at the old Moulin de la Galette and of course, a French kiss. Or more 😉