Girls Trip to Paris

I had the best weekend. It felt like every minute and every hour kept unfolding in this lovely way to present more and more happiness and enjoyment. 

Months ago, I decided I wanted to take a weekend trip with a group of friends to Paris. I've never been away from my little family before. Ben didn't believe me. 

When I told him I'd never been away from him and the kids before - except to give birth to another child - he said: See! I told you. 

Not the same, Ben. 

Five girlfriends and I left our husbands, children and Luxembourg behind last Friday night as we boarded the TGV (high speed train) to Paris, getting us to our destination in two hours and twenty minutes. 

We easily navigated our way through the Gare de Paris-Est and onto the metro to our hotel, Princesse Caroline. As we emerged above ground from the Charles de Gaulle Étoile metro station, the Arc de Triomphe loomed in front of us and we all sighed with awe and delight. Two short blocks away, we checked into our hotel and then decided to explore the streets in search of food. 

After 15 minutes of walking, we decided that the McDonald's across the street from the Princesse Caroline would suffice for the night and we happily carried our emporter (take away) back to one hotel room and crowded around one bed eating, talking and eagerly planning for the next day. We loved the way importe sounded so much in French that we probably said it to each other 52 more times during the next 24 hours. Things are much funnier when you're tired and delirous with excitement about not being a mom for a weekend. 

When I originally found the Princesse Caroline and booked our three hotel rooms, a dream was planted in my mind... about waking up in Paris with Martha and Megan and running from the Arc to the Louvre and then back. 

It didn't matter that Megan and I stayed up until 2:30 am talking and that five short hours later we were lacing up our shoes because WE WERE RUNNING IN PARIS! 

We were running down the hosed-off sidewalks of Champs-Élysées. We were running past crêpe stands. We were running through the Tuileries. We were running toward the Louvre discussing whether or not we were fans of the red vein hanging from the pyramid. I will never forget those four-and-a-half miles. 

Running is my favorite way to start any day and it was the perfect way to start this day. 

A few hours later, we brunched at Angelina. Martha claimed it would be a-once-in-a-lifetime experience and she was dead right. Decadent walls, ceilings, tables and chocolates greeted us. We each ordered the Angelina Breakfast, complete with rich and thick hot chocolate, croissants, pain au chocolat, juice, rolls, jelly, chestnut cream, butter, honey, eggs, and fruit. I took the small, unused jars of jelly in my bag for Otto, Aksel and Ingrid. I had a feeling they'd love them. I was right. They went bananas. They liked them more than the other gifts I brought him. They cried when the jars were empty. 

After brunch, we took the metro to the Rodin Museum and spent two child-free hours actually wearing and listening to the audio guide, laughing about the employees designating Martha the captain of our group, strolling the gardens, crying in front of Monets (only I did that), using the free restrooms, and appreciating truly beautiful art. 

We regrouped, discussed our favorites and then we headed to Rue Montorgueill where the shopping and eating began. We started at Mora and Bovida and then visited Stohrer, the oldest pastry shop in Paris. As we walked down the street, I read aloud from this blog, which led us to one delight after another. 

Next, we discovered A la Mère de Famille, which is the oldest confectionary shop in Paris, a fruit store full of fresh, plump and delicious fruit where Martha and I sampled a box of raspberries and then La Fermette. 

I was reading the below paragraphs aloud from the same blog to my five friends: 

Hoo-boy, if La Fermette doesn’t become your favorite cheese shop in the whole wide world, there’s something wrong with you. I had lunch with a friend who lives nearby the other day, and when I told her I was heading over there afterward to buy cheese, she started bouncing in her seat; “Ooooh—I love that place, too! And that guy who looks like Tom Cruise works there!”

If the nice-looking fellows behind the counters don’t do it for you, what’s on their shelves, certainly will. There’s the usual suspect here, but what’s especially interesting, especially if you’re a traveler and want to try a few cheeses, is that they sell plates of freshly sliced cheeses, which feature an assortment, so you can give a few a try. However my top gun in the shop is the 30 month-old Comté that is perhaps the best cheese on the planet. Be sure to pick up a big hunk. And get some Comté, too.

And then I looked up and saw the Tom Cruise look-a-like. And then I tried the Comté. And then I didn't think my day could get any better. 

I purchased 7.50€ worth of the Comté to take home to Ben and then then I purchased 7.50€ worth of the same cheese and requested that it be cut in chunks. We walked next door to Le Pain Quotidien and purchased a baguette. We broke up the baguette and stood in the street eating 30-month old cheese, baguettes and raspberries and I felt like my life was complete. 

We wrapped up our tour of Rue Montorgueill and headed toward Sainte Chapelle by foot, passing an awkward amount of crêpe and sex shops. Twenty minutes later, we were standing in front of Notre Dame de Paris as the sun set, putting Martha's selfie stick to good use and pointing out our favorites statues and headless saints. 

We browsed the Shakespeare and Company Bookstore, listened to a street musician and then walked through Le Marais, shopping at Fleux and wishing we had two more hours to spend exploring the endless rooms of this design and home decor-store. 

We ate dinner at Pain Vin Fromages. It was small, old, quaint and reeked of cheese. Everything you want in a fondue restaurant. 

We ordered bubbly water, salads, and three fondues -- Fondute savoyarde, Fondute méridionale, and Fondute seguin. I'm still thinking about the meal and I've added a fondue set to my personal wish list. 

After dinner, we made our way back to the metro and up to Sacré-Cœur where we were blessed with singing nuns, praying priests and guitar-strumming street performers singing U2. 

We browsed a few more shops and ended our night at 10:30 standing in the streets of Montmartre eating a chocolate and banana crêpe from the same man who made Ben and I a crêpe six years ago. It's funny how you can feel more in love with someone when you're not with them and while you're eating a crêpe. 

We walked past Moulin-Rouge and onto the metro and back into one hotel room where we painted nails and talked and talked and talked. Even after the other four girls had gone to back to their rooms to bed, Megan and I stayed up even later talking. I didn't want the day to end and I had an endless amount of things to say. 

Unfortunately, our one morning to sleep-in was interrupted by someone incorrectly making toast and a loud and annoying fire alarm at 6:45 am. After a disorienting 20 minutes and one more hour of sleep, we salvaged the morning with a visit to the Eiffel Tower.

It was quiet and beautiful. And we each took a moment to have our own moment with the Iron Lady. Then we spent a lot of time jumping off things, taking a ridiculous amount of pictures and searching for a bakery by unsuccessfully following people with baguettes sticking out of their bags. 

We ended our trip by visiting two out-door covered markets before boarding the train home. If you want to know where Parisians buy their meat and vegetables for Sunday dinner, I can tell you. It was fun to feel and eat local before saying goodbye. 

I'm so happy I can be and do so many things -- I can be a woman who goes to Paris with five wonderful friends. I can talk about art, ideas, politics, religion, economics, children, waxing, Tom Cruise and feel equally fulfilled by them all. 

I can run through the early-morning streets of a european city. I can lick my fingers clean after eating a crêpe. I can order cheese in terrible french. I can cry at my good fortune as I stand in front of a Monet. 

And I can open a door and put my body inside of a car with my family and easily and seamlessly slip right back into being Ben's wife and Otto, Aksel and Ingrid's Mom. 

I was happy to return. I was happy to be that woman. But I was oh so happy to be in Paris. 

Thank you, Megan, Martha, Mandy, Becky, Star, and Benjamin for giving me an incredible weekend in Paris.