Last week I headed to the French capital for two days to fall in love with my favorite city in the world all over again. To sigh longingly over its beautiful architecture, embrace its charming style, and kiss the sugared lips of its sweet pastries.

To that end, I went straight to one of the city’s most famous luxury hotels when I arrived: the Four Seasons George V. As if it knew that I was coming to find love, the hotel was bursting with flowers. The resident florist, acclaimed Jeff Leatham, had garlanded the high-ceilinged lobby with a green-and-fuchsia extravaganza.

Upstairs, my newly renovated room awaited. The hotel had offered it to me on a complimentary basis for the night, but I would have been willing to pay a handsome sum to spend an evening there. Spacious and bright, its mint, lavender, and cream color scheme made me feel like I was cocooned in a Laduree macaron.

And speaking of food, downstairs I enjoyed a big breakfast of lemon and ricotta pancakes in the stunning gallery as well as a plate of perfect petit fours and a punch cocktail in the sumptuous bar.

My love affair continued with indulgence at the spa at the George V. From the sauna to the steam room, it was an utterly relaxing experience. And that’s to say nothing of the pool and hot tub, which were surrounded by classical paintings and set under a ceiling that looked like the sky.

But my love of the hotel couldn’t trump that of my love of the city beyond its luxurious walls. To that end, I left my pretty room a few times to spend some time outside.

One such venture involved a walk past the Eiffel Tower and into St Germain for lunch at my favorite hidden gem in Paris, Cuisine de Bar. My artichoke and sun-dried tomato tartine was blissfully good, proving, as Paris has always known, that the way to my heart is through my stomach.

Similarly delicious experiences were had in the Marais, where I met up with friends for coffee at a new cafe called Pinson and a restaurant called Glou. Later I went with one of them to a funky cafe called Le Loir dans la Theiere, where we humored our sweet tooths with carrot cake and the biggest lemon meringue tart I’ve ever seen.

Closer to the hotel, I had dinner with another friend at Chez Andre, a brasserie so classic that it was almost a caricature of itself. The food was great—my poached eggs and mushrooms in Burgundy sauce was a big winner—, the ambiance buzzing, and the silver fox of a server so harmlessly flirtatious that we couldn’t help batting our lashes coquettishly.

At the end of my short stay in Paris, I checked out of the George V and traveled back to London. Even with just two days in France, I found that I had not only renewed my affections for the city I love, but also found new reasons to adore it. Happy Valentine’s Day, Paris. Je t’aime. xx

On Monday I decided that it was time tear myself away from Paris. I hopped on a train at Gare Saint Lazare and found myself at Vernon station in Normandy 44 minutes later.

I took a shuttle to get from Vernon to Giverny. It was so crowded that I had to stand, and so hot that I thought I would melt, but 15 minutes later I alighted in the beautiful riverside village that was home to Monet’s gardens.

After waiting in a long line to buy my ticket, I entered the world of the Impressionist painter. Everywhere tall green grasses grew up wildly from overflowing flowerbeds. The verdant scene was punctuated by the reds of poppies, pinks of hollyhocks, and the myriad of other colors of flora on the painter’s palette.

After taking in the scene, I did a quick walk-through of Monet’s house. The two-storey building reminded me a lot of Beatrix Potter’s house in the Lake District. It was full of art, some of which was Monet’s, but most of which was Japanese woodcuts. While simple, the house was cozy and truly a home.

Back outside, I waded through the heat and crowds and made my way under a tunnel to the other half of the garden. It was here that I began to recognize scenes from Monet’s paintings.

Everywhere there were ponds, bridges, boats, and of course, water lilies. The dark water stood still in the summer heat, and the pinks and whites of the flowers were like mirages in sun.

Around the ponds were smaller gardens, which, like their counterparts in the other areas, were overgrown with flowers and foliage. I walked along several paths, waving hello to some friendly cows in the neighboring enclosure as I went.

Back at the front of Monet’s Gardens, I exited the gift shop and continued my Giverny day trip from Paris by hunting down some food. The main street in Giverny was packed with small hotels, restaurants, cafes, and art galleries, and I found myself a seat in the garden of a small cafe. There I enjoyed a chevre and beetroot sandwich in the shade.

Refreshed, I continued along the main road in Giverny. I passed by the Museum of Impressionism, which had a buzzing cafe and stunning manicured gardens. Further along there was a sand sculpture exhibition in front of a picturesque historic building.

At the end of the road, I came to the village church, where Monet’s gravestone was located. I paid my homage to the artist, then walked back along the hollyhock-lined street to the main part of the village.

In the mid-afternoon, I boarded my bus back to Vernon station, then caught my train. Despite a 35-minute delay en route, I arrived at the Gare Saint Lazare happy to have taken my Giverny day trip from Paris, and determined to continue the tradition on my next trip. Any recommendations for other day trips from Paris?

However, my own traditions on the Right Bank have gotten me into a bit of a rut over the past few years. My stays at the same hotels and dinners at the same restaurants needed some mixing up.

After my amazing time at Hotel Le Bristol last October, I was excited to try some new Paris hotels on the Right Bank. The first of these came in the form of Hotel Beauchamps in the 8th, which invited me to stay for a night.

The hotel was ideally located right off the Champs Elysees, only a few blocks from where I lived when I worked in Paris. The staff was friendly and welcoming when I arrived, and the room was a spacious corner room with contemporary decor, and a large bed, desk, sofa, and armoire.

The bathroom had a sink and a tub shower with a head that came with a somewhat mysterious neon light that changed colors as the shower progressed. Overall the room was great, particularly the amazingly comfortable bed and the quiet ambiance.

The lobby had a large sitting area, a library and business center, and a restaurant called Velvet. I was invited to dine there with a friend on my last night in Paris, and I was thankful that the window-walls on all sides were open to alleviate the heat of the day.

My meal consisted of a cold green pea soup with lemon ricotta and hake, followed by hand cut beef tartare with lettuce and homemade fries. My friend had an excellent octopus salad and a steak with fries. All of the food was delicious, and I was sad that I didn’t have time for dessert before running to catch my train back to London.

Speaking of the train, I tried another new Paris Right Bank restaurant-and-hotel combination right after my train from London pulled into Gare du Nord. The new Shangri-La Paris opened late last year, and I was invited for a tour and lunch in their La Bauhinia restaurant.

The hotel was housed in a palace in the 16th that formerly belonged to Napoleon’s grandnephew. It had all of the French opulence one would expect from such a residence, and the hospitality that Shangri-La hotels are known for.

I took a tour of one of the rooms, which was split between two levels and offered a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower across the Seine. I also saw several beautifully restored function rooms, the secluded lobby bar, and the fine dining restaurant, L’Abeille.

I met a friend for lunch at La Bauhinia, a gorgeous light-filled space decorated in a blend of French and Asian schemes. We started with blue lobster salads with green beans, peaches, and almonds. They were divine.

Our mains were Asian-inspired steamed codfish with yellow curry paste and coconut milk, and classic grilled Black Angus beef. We both had the lemon pannacotta with red berries for dessert. The meal was thoroughly enjoyable, and the service attentive.

Beyond eating in restaurants, my Paris Right Bank food experience included a picnic lunch in the Parc des Buttes Chaumont. The beautiful hilly green space was filled with people enjoying the summer sun. As I watched the world go by, I enjoyed my baguette, cheese, ham, and apricot tart, all of which came from the shops and bakeries on my beloved Rue des Martyrs.

Nearby that street I explored Montmartre’s famous Sacre Coeur and the little side streets that alternate between being packed with people and deserted by all but the locals.

When I wasn’t exploring the hills of the Right Bank, I stuck to the flats. Starting in Parc Monceau, my favorite park in Paris, I walked down to the Rue du Faubourg St Honore. I continued along it, passing all of the luxury goods stores and the presidential palace until I came to the Palais Royal in the heart of Paris. It was beautiful in the summer sun.

Close to there was another of my favorite parts of Paris: the Marais. I spent two of my nights in the city in a Paris apartment in the neighborhood, compliments of Airbnb. The apartment was ideally located right on the Rue Vieille du Temple, and was a spacious one-bedroom with a balcony. While it got loud with the nightlife on the weekend, it was a great place to stay, and a nice alternative to a hotel.

In fact, it was so comfortable that it made me want to move in and stay forever. But while I love the neighborhood and the Right Bank, I’m not sure I could ever choose between the two sides of the Seine.

While my trip to Paris gave me ample time to decide whether I liked the Right Bank or the Left Bank better, I think I might need a lifetime of trips before I come close to knowing which I prefer.

I have never had much of a preference for one bank over the other. Each is unique in its own way, and has an abundance of cultural destinations, restaurants, museums, and sightseeing on offer.

Over the weekend I spent four days in Paris, and had ample opportunity to explore both sides of the river. It was enough time to decide on a favorite.

I started my trip on Paris’ Left Bank. After arriving at Gare du Nord and checking into my hotel in the 8th arrondissement, I walked over the Pont d’Iena to stand face-to-face with the Eiffel Tower. But while Gustav’s miracle in steel was one of Paris’ most famous landmarks, it wasn’t my ultimate destination.

No, I was headed to the Musee du Quai Branly. It was a museum I had never visited before, but after seeing a poster for an exhibition on the Dogon country in Mali, I headed straight there. My trip to Bamako last year was still fresh in my mind, and I was excited to see art and artifacts from one of my favorite African countries.

The exhibition was great, and had a remarkably thorough range of historic statues, masks, everyday wares, and religious and ceremonial objects. After visiting, I explored the rest of the museum, which had indigenous art from everywhere from Latin America to Asia.

The museum was the only one I visited on this trip to Paris. The rest of my time on Paris’ Left Bank was spent doing my two favorite Parisian pastimes: walking and eating.

I spent the entire day on Saturday meandering through the streets of the Latin Quarter and beyond. First I went to the Jardin du Luxembourg. The park was awash with beautiful flowers that graced its gardens. Everywhere there were children sailing tiny boats in fountains, couples admiring the mythical Medici fountain, and friends relaxing in the many metal chairs along the paths.

After the garden, I walked past the Pantheon and over to Rue Mouffetard. The famous street was packed with the usual creperies, cafes, and creative culinary counters.

Speaking of which, I did my fair share of eating while walking. First I had lunch at my favorite breakfast place, Cuisine de Bar. I had always wanted to try their tartines, and they were every bit as good as I knew they would be. With Poilane bakery right next door, how could they not be amazing?

Later that afternoon I stumbled across the Mosquee de Paris, which had a popular tea house and restaurant. I sat down in the courtyard under a pretty tree and enjoyed a steaming glass of mint tea in an atmosphere that reminded me of Tunisia.

Back in St Germain, I had dinner at Le Timbre, a traditional French restaurant near the Jardin du Luxembourg. It had been written up in numerous blogs and guidebooks, including the Hg2 to Paris, of which I was offered a complimentary copy for my trip. I was excited to try the food there.

The shoebox of a dining room had tables so close together that diners had to make a conscious effort not to socialize. Behind it was a tiny open kitchen where a single chef cooked meals so good they were hard to believe, and a single waitress served ten tables with the dexterity of a Michelin starred restaurant’s armada of staff.

Le Timbre was one of the best culinary experiences I’ve had in Paris. From the terrine de campagne to the duck confit and the millefeiulle, my meal was a veritable symphony of flavors. The restaurant turned tables quickly, though, and when my dessert was finished, the chef himself came out to say good-bye and usher me out. It was only then that I learned he was English.

Another Paris Left Bank restaurant experience was at a starkly different culinary establishment. This one was a new and noteworthy place that had been written about as extensively and enthusiastically as Le Timbre, and was also recommended in the Hg2.

Ze Kitchen Galerie was as spacious as Le Timbre was small. Its large dining room was fronted by a glass wall looking out onto the street. The cuisine was modern, and it was done well. My starter of cold green soup with egg was impressively good, as was my main of zucchini flowers stuffed with crab. The wine list was refreshingly reasonably priced, too.

Ze Kitchen Galerie certainly wasn’t a traditional Parisian restaurant, but it was a nice departure from the status quo. I was glad I went.

My final Paris Left Bank restaurant adventure took me to a different branch of a place I always go on Sunday nights: Relais de l’Entrecote. The restaurant is my favorite pre-Eurostar spot because the fixed menu of steak frites is one of the only ones in Paris that allows you to have a proper meal with enough time to catch the train back to London.

Usually I go to the Relais de l’Entrecote on the Right Bank’s Rue Marbeuf, but this time I tried the location on the Left Bank’s St Germain. It was every bit as good as its counterpart, but the outdoor seating was a great bonus on a hot summer evening. It was glad I tried a new location of one of my favorite Paris restaurants.

Speaking of which, I had some equally new and exciting restaurant and sightseeing experiences on the Right Bank of Paris during the weekend. But those are the subjects of my next post. To be continued…

On our first night at the hotel we were invited to dine with the general manager and the head of sales and marketing at the three Michelin starred Restaurant Gastronomique. The dining room was an ovular space that was all elegant wood-and-tapestries, and we couldn’t wait to taste Chef Eric Frechon’s cuisine.

The meal started off well with Laurent Perrier rosé all around. As we settled in, we learned that the GM, Didier Le Calvez, had joined Le Bristol earlier this year from the George V. This came after previous stints at The Pierre in New York City and other impressive international hotels.

Our first course, large langoustines and caviar with celeriac and yuzu, arrived alongside a glass of Domaine Ostertag Riesling. As we dined, the conversation with Didier continued. He explained to us how important it was that the hotel have a very Parisian feel. While some hotels leave guests feeling like they could be anywhere in the world, Le Bristol leaves no doubt that the visitor is in Paris. From the locals that frequent the hotel’s bar to the distinctly French decor and dining, the hotel is unmistakably Parisian.

Our second course, stuffed macaroni with black truffle, artichoke and foie gras, came with a Domaine Leflaive Puligny Montrachet. During this course we began discussing wine with the chef sommelier, Marco Pelletier. As the conversation about our preferred varietals continued, we began eating an incredibly delicious third course: scallops a la plancha with potato gnocchi and white truffle. The truffle brought back many good memories of my trip to the White Truffle Festival in Alba two years ago.

Next we were served a surprise course of lamb in a nori seaweed crust with pureed turnip-cabbage. It was excellent with a glass of the Domaine de Beaucastel Chateauneuf du Pape. At this point I was getting full, but the food was so good that I couldn’t resist the cheese course (with a glass of Domaine Confuron Vosne Romanee), or the dessert: black Provencal figs poached in strawberry juice with ice cream on gingerbread biscuits. All of this went with a Domaine Guy Lheraud Pineau des Charentes. Amazing.

So amazing, in fact, that the next morning we went back to the restaurant for breakfast. Despite having eaten so much the night before, we couldn’t resist the lure of Eggs Benedict with black truffles. We weren’t disappointed.

But the Restaurant Gastronomique wasn’t the only restaurant we enjoyed at Hotel Le Bristol. No, there was another one. The hotel recently opened 114 Faubourg, a more casual brasserie for business travelers, locals, and guests that prefer a less formal meal. On the second night of our stay we dined there with the communications manager. The restaurant itself was decorated beautifully with deep orange walls, sleek black tables, and purple banquettes.

Chef Eric Desbordes’ food was as impressive as the ambiance. For our first course we enjoyed a creamy Jerusalem artichoke soup with foie gras. This was followed by delicious king prawns with vegetables in a satay sauce. For dessert we were served a mouth-watering warm Grand Cru chocolate tart with Amarena cherry sorbet. The food was excellent, and the conversation was so enjoyable that we all wondered how we had only known one another for two days.

But alas, those two days had to come to an end. The next morning I woke up early and ordered room service for breakfast just to get one last taste of the amazing cuisine at Hotel Le Bristol. The continental breakfast came on a huge tray, and as I ate my croissant and pain au chocolat, and drank my grapefruit juice and tea, I savored every last bite.

After breakfast we were off to travel on the Eurostar back to London, and to catch some sleep along the way. As we sped through the French countryside en route to the channel tunnel, I had wonderful dreams of my excellent stay at Hotel Le Bristol. When I awoke at St Pancras, I began a new dream: finding a way to stay at Le Bristol again in the future.

We met our personal shopper, Skall, in the hotel lobby, and he whisked us away down Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore towards the Place Vendome. We arrived on Rue de Castiglione and alighted from the car to start our day of discovering the best shopping in the city. Our first stop included visits to two boutiques: Rodolphe Menudier and Chine. The former was a shoe store with beautifully-made boots, flats, heels, and wedges, while the latter was a women’s clothing shop that featured Belgian designs.

Our shopping appetites whetted, we continued onto a place that I had passed a million times, but never knew was there: the Palais Royal. A beautiful palace and gardens right next to the Louvre, the Palais Royal was home to high-end boutiques, cafes, and Paris’ oldest restaurant. Our stop included a mix of the known—Marc Jacobs and Stella McCartney—and the new—Pierre Hardy and Lefranc Ferrant. Pierre Hardy had us drooling over its gorgeous shoes, while Lefranc Ferrant’s pret a porter designer fashions had us wishing we possessed the same clothing budget as the well-heeled couple at the other end of the shop.

The real treat for me, though, was Mary Beyer, a designer of couture gloves. Her tiny shop in the Palais Royal was full of color. Each pair of gloves was hand-made, and the designs ranged from the simple to the fur-lined, the plain black to the vibrant fuchsia. With winter rapidly approaching and me being glove-less, I couldn’t resist the temptation to have Mary make me a pair. She traced my hand, measured my fingers, had me try on a few sample pairs, and told me that my own whould be arriving in two or three weeks. I couldn’t wait.

From the Palais Royal we were taken east to visit three more impressive shops. At Raphael Young we discovered an up-and-coming Parisian designer’s futuristic footwear, then crossed the street to a “secret” shop with no windows and no sign. Our personal shopper rang a doorbell, and suddenly we found ourselves inside a clothing store that could have doubled as an art gallery. L’Eclaireur was a beautiful space with men’s and women’s clothing and accessories. The highlight, though, was an even more secret space, which was revealed to us when one of the walls suddenly opened onto a low-lit room full of unique furniture, art, chandeliers, and mirrors. It was stunning.

Tearing ourselves away, we continued our Paris shopping trip with a visit to Marithe Francois Girbaud, a large shop that is known for its jeans as well as its futuristic-looking laser-cut clothing. I was glad we were pressed for time, because I knew that I would get into trouble if I stayed too long. Instead we made our way to a place that was the polar opposite of this geometric temple of fashion. We entered the soft, dollhouse world of Fifi Chachnil. A tiny shop painted all in pink, Fifi was a wonderland of fine Parisian lingerie. Lace, feathers, and silk abounded, and we left the shop feeling like we had just been in a dream.

Our final stop of the day was at Christophe Lemaire, a boutique in the Marais that felt more like someone’s apartment. The designs were beautiful, and in the back there was a selection of Lacoste clothing. By the time we left, we were exhausted and our personal shopper had to run to another appointment. We headed straight for L’As du Falafel to enjoy the best falafel in Paris, and rested our feet while we marvelled at the amazing clothing we had seen that morning. If all of my shopping trips could be as pleasant as a day with Hotel Le Bristol’s personal shopper, I might actually become the fashionista I never dreamed I could be. In the meantime, though, there was reality to face: the excellent cuisine of Hotel Le Bristol’s restaurants. To be continued…

When we arrived at the Louvre, our tour guide and a representative from the Louvre’s partnership office met us outside of I. M. Pei’s famous glass pyramid. A guard carefully let us pass through the entry barrier, making sure that none of the crowd behind us came along for the ride. We felt very privileged to be entering the Louvre on a day when the museum was closed to the public.

Once inside, our bags were checked and we were given visitor badges to wear. From there we went down the escalators into the cavernous entry hall. It was eerily quiet, and the interior looked stark in the absence of the usual crowds.

Our tour began in the Denon wing, which we learned was named after the first director of the Louvre. Our footsteps echoed off the empty halls as we made our way up the stairs. When we arrived at the top, we found ourselves in a silent room full of sculptures. We still couldn’t believe we had the whole museum to ourselves.

Our guide took us through several famous works of art in the room, including Canova’s Cupid and Psyche and Michelangelo’s The Slave. In the absence of the normal throngs that surrounded these sculptures, we were able to get a close look and learn about their history from our guide.

From there we moved on to the famous Winged Victory of Samothrace, then down empty stairs and quiet corridors to the Venus de Milo. It was hard to believe how much amazing art we were seeing in the absence of other onlookers. I kept reminding myself to appreciate how unique the experience was, not least because I would be longing for it if I could ever bring myself to visit the Louvre on a normal day again.

After the sculptures, we moved on through several of the historically-preserved rooms in the Louvre, then came to a place that I had never seen before: the moat. A moat in the Louvre? Yep. The original foundations of the former fort were still surprisingly intact, and they were right there below all of the art on the upper floors. On that particular day they were the backdrop for a contemporary Russian art exhibition.

After learning about the history and construction of the moat and seeing a scale model of the former fort, we moved onto the paintings. The room we saw was a large one that had 24 huge paintings of the life of Marie de Medici. They were all painted by Rubens, who apparently took two years to complete the cycle. As our guide took us through the key paintings in the room, I couldn’t help but feel like we were having a private audience with the queen herself.

Speaking of royalty, we next visited the treasury, where we saw Charles V’s sceptre and the coronation sword of the French monarchs. Then the royal tour continued in Napoleon III’s apartments. The opulent rooms were decorated in sumptuous, over-the-top decor that reminded me of their counterparts in the Hermitage in St Petersburg. The Grand Salon was the most impressive, with its gold-and-burgundy furniture and massive chandelier.

Between seeing all of the royal possessions and being privileged on our after-hours tour of the Louvre, we were beginning to feel like royalty ourselves. The illusion was kept up back at Hotel Le Bristol, where dinner at the 3 Michelin starred restaurant awaited us. But more on that in another post. We (the royal we) need a break first. To be continued…

On Tuesday morning I boarded the Eurostar with the other press trip members. After a pleasant journey, we arrived in Paris and were taken to the uber-fashionable Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, Le Bristol’s unbeatable location. Once there, we we were greeted by the communications manager and shown to our rooms. Well, suites. Mine was on the seventh floor of the original wing of the hotel, and came with two enormous rooms featuring beautiful classic decor, and a large bathroom that was all white marble.

I settled in a bit, enjoying some of the petit fours and fresh fruit in the sitting room before taking the stunning 1920′s elevator back down to the lobby for lunch at the bar. On the way down, I wondered if I would see any celebrities, with whom the hotel is a popular place to stay in Paris. Recent guests included Leonardo DiCaprio, Woody Allen, Jude Law, and supermodel Natalia Vodianova.

The bar was a spacious, bright room with large comfortable chairs and sofas. Hotel guests and local Parisians were dotted throughout, enjoying light lunches and coffee. Our lunch started with a glass of Champagne, which was followed by a delicious lettuce soup, raviolis with chevre, and a sumptuous raspberry tart. This was of course followed by petit fours, which we couldn’t resist trying. When we found out that the chef from the 3-star restaurant supervised all of the food in the hotel—from the bar to the new restaurant 114 Faubourg to the signature Restaurant Gastronomique—it was no wonder our lunch tasted so good.

As we ate, the communications manager explained to us that the massive portrait of Marie Antoinette that hung above us was original, as were all of the hotel’s paintings and mirrors. She also told us about the Fashion High Teas that the hotel bar regularly hosts. Like Pret-a-Portea at the Berkeley in London, Le Bristol serves cakes and pastries that are inspired by the season’s fashions. But it takes things a step further by bringing in models, who show off the collections of the top fashion houses in Paris as guests enjoy their tea.

Over the course of the next two days, we were able to explore the hotel in greater detail. On the ground floor we got a tour of the beautiful garden, which hosts sculpture exhibitions and is the perfect place to relax in the summer months. Moving up from there, we were shown the hotel’s new wing. It blended seamlessly into the old one and housed rooms (starting at € 770/night) and suites (starting at € 1,100/night) of various sizes, all refurbished to a high standard and many of which featured large private terraces and balconies. We were even shown the € 7,000/night suite that Woody Allen stayed in last summer while he filmed his upcoming movie, Midnight in Paris, parts of which were filmed in the hotel.

Apart from the rooms, Hotel Le Bristol had one of the most amazing fitness centers I’ve ever seen. Located on the sixth floor, there were great views of the beautiful buildings on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore from the workout machines. But the real treat was the swimming pool. Designed to look like it was on the deck of a ship, the pool was surrounded by a wood floor and had a beautiful nautical-themed painting behind it. Outside was a large terrace that had excellent views of the Sacre Coeur. That’s to say nothing of the views of the Eiffel Tower from the opposite window.

Heading back to the lobby, the Anne Semonin spa beckoned. The spa is famous for its facials, massages, and other beauty treatments, and as we entered we saw that the rooms were decorated in beautiful neutral colors with soft lighting. The place was popular with local Parisians as well as hotel guests, and as part of our stay, each of us was given the hotel’s signature made-to-measure facial.

Having never had a facial before, I didn’t quite know what to expect. But I knew that I would enjoy it as soon as the therapist brought me a glass of water and two delicious macaroons to start. The facial itself was relaxing, and the therapist was very knowledgeable about skin types and treatments. The foot massage that came with it was a great bonus. It ended on another high note as I learned that there are plans to expand the spa with more treatment rooms and a daycare center for children.

It wasn’t just Hotel Le Bristol’s interior and luxurious spa treatments that won me over, though. The staff and the service were impeccable, and the restaurants and special offerings (think a private after-hours tour of the Louvre and a half-day adventure with a personal shopper in Paris) were both deserving of a post in their own right. So much so that’s exactly what I will do for them. To be continued…

When Airbus released its new double-decker A380 a few years ago, I thought I was lucky to spot the plane flying over the Golden Gate Bridge as part of Fleet Week in San Francisco. When I told my boyfriend about it, he said that he had already driven to SFO early one morning just to see it.

Despite having caught a glimpse of it when it first took to the skies, the A380 has proven elusive in our travels. None of the airlines we fly regularly have one in its fleet. The airlines that do have A380s usually reserve them for long-haul routes to destinations that we don’t often go.

But this summer Air France is flying positioning flights between London and Paris on the A380, and my boyfriend couldn’t pass up such a convenient chance. Lucky for me, he didn’t want to travel alone. He booked two tickets to Paris on the A380 for Monday afternoon, and two tickets back to London on a BA flight on Tuesday morning. Basically, we were traveling to Paris for dinner.

On Monday we took the tube to Heathrow to fly to Paris. After a short stint in the Champagne-less Star Alliance lounge in Terminal 4, we boarded the behemoth of a plane. The A380 is so large that they board the upstairs and the downstairs from different jet bridges. Even after we boarded we waited for almost an hour before everyone was seated.

During that time we amused ourselves by joining many of our fellow passengers in taking photos of the Business class cabin. The seats were large and comfortable, and there was a small lounge area in the front by the stairwell. As I peered down the steps, I saw others peering up in hopes of getting a glimpse of the premium cabins. We were all curious about this big jet plane.

The flight itself was nothing special. There was no pre-flight Champagne, and 45 minutes of air time wasn’t enough to test out the lie-flat beds (although my boyfriend did so anyway before we took off). The meal was a plastic tray of small bites covered in Saran wrap, and I barely had time to read the in-flight magazine before we landed.

The only really memorable part of the flight on the A380 was during take-off, when the plane felt so heavy that I worried it wouldn’t make it off the ground. Once we were airborne, though, the flight was smooth and relaxing. The whole experience made me wish that we were flying overseas so that I could see what Air France could do on a proper long-haul flight.

When we arrived in Paris it was pouring rain. We took an Air France bus from Charles de Gaulle to the Gare Montparnasse, which conveniently let us off right across the street from our hotel, Le Meridien. It was the same hotel I had stayed in with my mother two weeks prior, and I had a sense of deja vu upon checking in.

We didn’t take much time to settle into our room before dinner. I quickly changed into one of the dresses my mother bought me at Antoine et Lili on our last trip to Paris and we headed off to the right bank. With an hour to kill before our dinner reservation, we explored the region to the south and west of the Arc de Triomphe. Despite having lived near there when I worked in Paris, I had never spent any time in the area.

It turned out to be a beautiful neighborhood. It was deathly quiet, as expected for Paris in August, but the buildings were classic Parisian and the parks and gardens as well-manicured as any in the city.

Dinner was at La Table de Joel Robuchon, one of the few Michelin-starred restaurants in Paris to keep its doors open on a Monday in mid-August. In exchange for my boyfriend flying me to Paris, I had promised him a nice meal. Having been to L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon on a prior trip to Paris, we were excited to try the more formal restaurant.

It was a good choice. Plates of crab ravioli were followed by some of the best John Dory I’ve ever had. The mashed potatoes that we enjoyed so much at L’Atelier once again made their appearance, but this time I didn’t wheedle our server into admitting that they were made with goose fat. The meal ended with a deliciously light passion fruit souffle, and we floated out of the restaurant feeling full and happy.

From the restaurant we headed down to the Place Vendome for a cocktail at the Hotel Costes. In contrast to the crowded Saturday night we spent there last winter in Paris, the place was far less busy this time. It was nice to be able to hear each other talk while enjoying a drink in the swanky lounge.

We got back to the hotel late, and were up early to catch our BA flight back to London. The Air France bus left Montparnasse at 8am, and by noon we were back at Heathrow. The trip home wasn’t nearly as exciting as the one there, but not every flight can be as thrilling as flying on the A380.

Last week my mother came for a visit. She hadn’t been to Paris since I worked there seven years ago, and she was due for a trip back. We got on the Eurostar on Wednesday morning, and I immediately picked up a copy of Metropolitan magazine.

I’m sure it’s all pay-to-play. Still, I find myself falling prey to their marketing about the less touristy parts of Paris, the up-and-coming neighborhoods, and the new restaurants. This time it was the trendy area around Canal St Martin, an off-the-beaten-path neighborhood near Gare du Nord. I was sold.

Our train arrived in the late morning, and we covered the short stint to the canal on foot. It was a beautiful day, and as we walked we passed a huge garden full of pink hollyhocks and red zinnias.

Once at the canal we found ourselves in front of a trifecta of my favorite boutique in Paris: Antoine et Lili. Their home store was followed by their children’s store, which was adjacent to their women’s store. Walking into the home store, the first thing I saw was a teapot.

But it wasn’t just any teapot. It was a plastic teapot that was just like the ones I saw in Bamako in February. It was selling for 9 euro, which was a whole lot more than in Mali. When I saw that the window display was full of them, I felt stupid for not bringing some back from Africa.

Moving on, we explored the women’s shop. Paris is the only place in the world where my normal hatred of shopping melts away and my inner fashionista comes out. After I tried on the entire store, my mom bought me a beautiful black silk dress with red flowers. We later had to return to get another dress, this one all black.

Shopping complete, we grabbed a quick coffee at the nearby Les Enfants Perdus. The caffeine fix was just what we needed to propel us down the canal, which was lovely. Lined with cafes, bistros, and boutiques, it sat peacefully under bridges and trees, alongside playgrounds and Velib’s.

At the end of the canal was a beautiful park that we walked through before heading to the metro at Republique. We were off to lunch.

I noticed on my last trip to Paris that I’ve fallen into a bit of a routine, so I wanted to mix things up a bit. But just a little bit. Instead of going to Cuisine de Bar for breakfast like I always do, I wanted to try it for lunch. There was only one problem with that: they were already closed for August.

No matter. A friend had long ago recommended Da Rosa on Rue de Seine. A short walk from Cuisine de Bar, Da Rosa proved an excellent choice. My prosciutto sandwich and my mother’s giant salad were so good that we were sad to finish them. But we cheered ourselves up with some delicious gelato at Grom across the street.

Full of food and tired of carrying heavy bags, we headed to our hotel, Le Meridien Montparnasse. It was nothing special. The first room they tried to pawn off on us had no electricity and looked like it hadn’t been updated in millennia. When I asked for a different room, they put us in a better one, but it was right next to an elevator.

Leaving the hotel behind, we went up to the Marais, one of my favorite neighborhoods in Paris. With no agenda, we strolled through the Place des Vosges, down the Rue des Francs Bourgeois, and along Rue du Bourg Tibourg until we reached the Hotel de Ville.

Dinner that night was at L’Epi Dupin. By the time we arrived we were exhausted and hungry. It made us all the more thankful to enjoy a meal of chevre salad, cod, and a dessert of pineapple and raspberry sorbet.

The next day we were ready for more walking. Starting at the hotel, we turned onto the wide Boulevard Montparnasse and stopped at Le Select. At 4.50 euro for a cafe au lait, it was a pricey way to visit one of Hemmingway’s haunts.

Moving on, we walked through the Jardin du Luxembourg. In keeping with my attempts to do things differently on this trip, we entered from the south and exited to the north. It was a small change, but it was the only one I was prepared to make for such a beautiful place.

When we left the gardens we headed up towards the river. A friend had recommended a restaurant near Saint-Michel called L’Epigramme. We sat down for an amazing lunch of chevre with vegetables followed by steak and sea bass. The fact that my stomach was bursting after the first two courses was the only thing that held me back from getting dessert.

From lunch we went north to the Grands Magasins. My mother was excited to take advantage of the soldes, or summer sales, at Galeries Lafayette. She got herself a pair of shoes and a warm sweater that will be perfect for August in San Francisco.

From there we walked down to the Madelene, then down Rue du Faubourg St Honore to the Place Vendome. Our final stop was Angelina. Instead of my usual afternoon tea at Mariage Freres or Laduree, I jumped at a friend’s recommendation to introduce my chocoholic mother to the famous hot chocolate and Mont Blanc pastries. Both were excellent, but we found ourselves on sugar overload afterwards.

To walk off the food coma, we headed up to the Arc de Triomphe and walked back down to the Place de la Concorde, then through the Tuieries to the Louvre and along the Paris Plage to the Ile de la Cite. Too tired to walk any further and too full to want dinner, we took the metro back to our hotel, picked up our bags, and headed to Gare du Nord.

At the station we enjoyed some wine in the Carte Blanche lounge and bought sandwiches at Paul to eat on the train.

The way home was a disaster of a Eurostar ride, with screaming 10-year-olds five rows away making me crazy me despite my noise-canceling headphones. I picked up the Eurostar magazine to try to distract myself, but had no luck. It made me very glad that the next time I return to Paris I will be flying Business class on the A380. It will be another change from my usual routine, and another in-flight magazine. Hopefully I will get some peace, and some new ideas for another good visit to Paris.

On Sunday morning I hopped on the Eurostar at St Pancras. After discovering that I had been mysteriously upgraded, I spent the trip watching the yellow pools of tiny mustard flowers out the window of the train.

I arrived in Paris around noon, the perfect time to start doing my favorite Parisian activity: eating. The fact that it was a Sunday complicated things a bit, but I managed to compile a list of a few new-to-me establishments in Paris that were open for lunch on Sundays.

My first stop was le marché St Quentin, a large covered market near the Gare du Nord. I had read good things about the food there, but upon entering the dimly-lit building I found the interior a bit depressing. Add to that the backpack and heavy bag I was carrying around with me, and I was in need of a place where I could sit down to eat.

Moving on, I headed toward Rue des Martyrs, one of my favorite foodie streets in Paris. After stumbling upon a random market selling what looked like old cinema equipment, I made my way south to Cul de Poule. Jutting out from the tiny facade were small wooden tables that were perfect for lunch and people watching.

My meal was good, but not amazing, so afterwards I walked a few blocks downhill to a place I knew would have excellent food: Arnaud Delmontel patisserie. Knowing I had a week a modeling work ahead of me, I bought just one chocolate macaroon, savoring every tiny bite as I made my way to the metro.

My next stop was St Germain, where again my back was in need of a break. I stopped by Les Editeurs, one of my favorite cafes in Paris, where I drank my Mariage Freres Earl Gray and finished re-reading The Remains of the Day, a book I haven’t read since high school (and which I got much more out of after living in England).

Once my tea was gone I schlepped my bags over to the Jardin du Luxembourg for some more reading and relaxing. Seemingly all of Paris had the same idea, and it took awhile to find an empty chair among the throngs of people reading, sunbathing, and chatting.

When it was time to head to the Gare Montparnasse for my train to Poitiers, I gathered up my bags once again and made my way to the Boulevard du Montparnasse. The neon-signed cafes were bustling with people enjoying the sunshine and sipping their cafés au lait.

With a bit of time to spare before my train, I took a stroll through art stalls at the open-air Marché de la Création, then through a small food market right outside the Gare Montparnasse.

When it was finally time to go, I printed my tickets, got on the train to Poitiers, and waved good-bye to my Parisian afternoon. I hadn’t had nearly enough time to hit all of my favorite spots in Paris, but the time I had was sufficient to hold me over until next time. Besides, I was so excited for the week in Poitiers that it was hard to be too sad about leaving Paris for awhile.

On Thursday morning I headed to Paris for work. I spent all day Thursday and Friday running all over Paris for meetings in locations as far-flung as La Defense, Issy-les-Moulineaux, and Saint-Ouen. I rode just about every form of public transport Paris has to offer, including the metro, the RER, the regional trains, and the high-heeled shoe (powered by moi).

On Friday afternoon I collapsed in a heap in a junior suite on the top floor of the Westin Paris. This was compliments of my boyfriend, who racks up more hotel points than anyone I know, and who met me in Paris for the weekend (and got the Westin to give us a very nice room upgrade; he earns his keep).

My boyfriend arrived only ten minutes after I did, and we spent the early evening on a stroll through the gorgeous Christmas-light-lit Place Vendome, where there was a wedding couple at the Ritz leaning out the window for photos. It was so romantic I almost forgot to be cynical. From Place Vendome we headed to Opera, then to the Grands Magasins, which were glowing with their usual holiday light displays. We took a turn through Galeries Lafayette to see the giant Christmas tree, then headed back to our hotel to change for dinner.

Dinner that night was at Le Chateaubriand, a restaurant in the 11th that came highly recommended by our neighbors in Hampstead. We got the tasting menu, which consisted of five delectable courses that featured everything from a fresh crab salad to a so-rare-it’s-swimming-in-its-own-blood-but-so-good-I-didn’t-care pigeon dish to a rich, creamy cheese plate that I ate between bites of my boyfriend’s dessert.

We left Le Chateaubriand feeling full but not too full, and headed to Hotel Costes for drinks in their boudoir-inspired bar. Despite having to shell out 19 euro for a Bellini, we had ourselves an enjoyable time people watching and relaxing after a long week.

On Saturday morning we woke up early and headed to my favorite breakfast place in Paris, Cuisine de Bar. The usual staff were all there, and we filled ourselves with Poilane bread and croissants, enormous bowls of coffee, and fresh squeezed orange juice. It was comforting to be back after almost a year’s absence, and additionally comforting because we missed the downpour that was going on outside while we were eating.

After breakfast we walked around the area, visiting the Christmas market at Saint Germain, strolling through the art galleries north of the boulevard of the same name, and walking through the Jardin du Luxembourg.

At two o’clock we headed back to the Right Bank to meet a friend of mine at the Musee Guimet. We walked through the collection of Asian art, amazed at its depth and geographical diversity of origin, and caught up on one another’s lives in the meantime.

After the museum my boyfriend and I stopped for a quick sandwich before heading up to the Champs Elysees. We walked down the street, taking in all of the Christmas decorations and the crowds, then made our way through the Christmas market on the Champs before heading back to our hotel to get ready for dinner.

Dinner was to be had at Les Cocottes in the 7th. Another friend had recommended it, and we were excited to give it a try. The restaurant doesn’t take reservations, so we showed up three minutes after it opened, expecting to get a table without a problem. We did. It was the very last table in the entire restaurant. After we sat down, a line formed behind us that made us glad we showed up when we did.

Dinner was excellent. After an appetizer of crab salad and egg-and-lardon salad, we moved on to les cocottes, the cast iron pans that all of the food is cooked in. My boyfriend got scallops, which were amazing. I ordered vegetables, which were good but would have been much better as a side dish. At least they were somewhat healthy, though, because for dessert we ordered the daily special, which was a chocolate cake with vanilla cream and kirsch, all topped with chocolate shavings. It was pretty amazingly heart-attack inducing. That is to say, delicious.

That night our post-dinner agenda involved two stops: the first was at Laduree Bar, a one-year-old bar at the back of the Laduree on the Champs. We ordered drinks that came paired with the appropriately flavored signature Laduree macaroon, and enjoyed them despite a rather lackluster crowd.

We moved on from there to a bar that my boyfriend’s coworker introduced him to. Despite the fact that the bar was a mere three blocks from where I lived when I worked in Paris, I had no idea it existed. Apparently I was the only one. When we arrived reservation-less, the waitress moved us no less than twice to make room for those with bookings. Thankfully we were able to enjoy a drink nonetheless. Like Hotel Costes, this bar was also boudoir-themed, right down to the hostess, who was head-to-toe in fishnets and leather.

The next morning we headed up to the 9th for breakfast at Arnaud Delmontel, winner of the “Best Bakery in Paris” award in 2007. One of our friends had recommended it to us, so we stopped by for a croissant. I had already been nearby for lunch on Thursday, when I ate at the English-run Rose Bakery across the street, and wanted to take my boyfriend back to show him what might be my new favorite street in Paris.

With no less than four fromageries, two fishmongers, a smattering of butchers, and of course one of the best bakeries in Paris, Rue des Martyrs brought the phrase “where have you been all my life?” to mind. We loved it. We started planning our life there: where we would live, what we would do, what kind of dog we would walk up and down the street, and, most importantly, which fromageries we would patronize.

Tearing ourselves away, we made our way to Parc Monceau to visit the Musee Nissim de Camondo. Also highly recommended by a friend and also a mere few blocks from where I used to live in Paris, the museum was amazing. Built by an eccentric 19th centry aristocrat who was obsessed with all things 18th century, the house was a tribute to the decorative arts of the 1700′s. Left to the state after the death of the patriarch, it is now a museum, and a great one at that.

We took a quick stroll in the lovely Parc Monceau after visiting the museum, then headed back to the Left Bank in hopes of taking advantage of the Free First Sundays at the Musee d’Orsay. Sadly, we arrived to find a huge line that we didn’t feel like waiting in. We took a walk instead, heading back over to the Right Bank and down to the BHV, my boyfriend’s favorite store in Paris.

After getting all kinds of home improvement goods from the basement of the BHV, we walked to Mariage Freres for afternoon tea. The waiters in their white linen uniforms and the bamboo furniture made us feel like we were in the tropics for a fleeting moment. Then we were back out in the rain and the reality of winter in Paris.

There was one last thing to be done before our Eurostar left Gare du Nord for London: le Relais de l’Entrecote. We knew from last year that we should show up before they opened in order to get a table, so we arrived a few minutes early and found ourselves standing in a line that extended into the middle of the intersection. Cars weaved their way around us (only in Paris would nobody honk at a line of diners waiting for a restaurant to open) until the restaurant opened at 7, and we got one of the last tables in the house.

Our salad, steak, and frites were all done to perfection. We had to eat quickly given that our Eurostar was to depart at 9:13pm, but we had enough time to savor our food before running to catch the metro to the Gare du Nord.

On our way home I couldn’t help but be thankful for all of the friends that recommended restaurants, bakeries, museums, and bars to us. Every Paris trip brings a different set of experiences that serves to increase my love for the city exponentially. The moveable feast is certainly one to be shared, and is all the sweeter that way.

Then last month my boss suggested I take a trip to Paris for a couple days to meet with clients. He didn’t have to ask twice. I booked my Eurostar ticket to Paris and set about lining up meetings.

Last week I hopped on a very early train at St. Pancras and arrived in Paris at 9am. It was already hot. I walked out of the station and was immediately greeted by the familiar smell of the Paris streets. Part car exhaust, part cigarette smoke, part dust, part crotte de chien, and part freshly baked baguette. The proportions of each scent changed no matter where I walked, but each was and forever will be guaranteed. It was unmistakably Paris. I loved it.

The day was brimming with meetings, so I didn’t have much time to see the city. That said, I got to see some very different parts of Paris than I usually visit. I had my first meetings in the 10th, where I discovered a great little farmers’ market and a few small parks. My third was out near Neuilly, which I’ve only been to twice before, and my fourth was in a former Zeppelin Factory that had been re-purposed into office space.

One of the things I noticed about all of my meetings was that none of the companies had signs out front. After I walked through unmarked doors on the streets, I found myself in courtyards full of doors with no identifying markers on them. I had to call several of my contacts just to learn which door they were behind, and even then there were often elevators, stairs, and other obstacles to overcome in my oddessy to find the office. Très bizarre!

Between meetings I managed to grab a quick lunch and a peak in a few boutiques in the Marais. After meetings I collapsed in a heat-induced heap in my hotel room and called a friend to meet for a glass (okay, bottle) of wine.

My friend couldn’t meet until a bit later, so I changed into more comfortable clothes and walked from my hotel, which was near Bastille, to the river. I crossed the Pont de Sully to the Ile Saint-Louis, where I couldn’t help but stop at Berthillon. Strolling along the medieval streets and eating my beloved gelato in my favorite city in the world, I gave in to the ridiculous smile that kept creeping into the corners of my lips.

I crossed the Pont Saint-Louis, then passed the Notre Dame and all the tourists admiring her. I walked across the Pont au Double to the Left Bank, and continued my stroll up to the enormous Boulevard Saint-Germain. From there I continued my journey to Les Editeurs, one of my favorite cafes in Paris. I had a quick bite to eat there, then took the metro back to Bastille to meet my friend.

By the time I got out of the metro, a freak thunder storm had started. I ran in the pouring rain to the little wine bar my friend had recommended, where I took haven from the elements. My friend and her roommate soon followed, and we spent the next hour and a half catching up over a bottle of wine.

My friend had to go to a dinner party after that, so I was on my own again. Not wanting to go to go back to my hotel, I took the metro up to the Champs Elysees to walk around and check in on my old neighborhood. When my feet couldn’t take another step, I hobbled back to the metro to turn in for the night.

The next day was even busier with meetings. After four of them, I had an hour left before I had to be at the Gare du Nord for my train back to London. Not wanting to squander it, I headed to the grands magazins to check out the soldes. I think everyone else in Paris had the same idea. After fighting the crowds to get in the door and up the stairs at Galeries Lafayette, I took one look around and went back outside.

I metroed back to the train station and settled into my seat on the Eurostar. I had a long trip home from Paris ahead of me. Back to London, then home, then a bus to Paddington Station, then the Heathrow Express, then a flight to New York, then a night in New York, then a weekend in Jamaica!

Using the last leg of our round the world trip (the gift that keeps on giving!), my boyfriend and I flew into Paris on Friday night and checked into our room at the hotel Prince de Galles. Having already stayed there twice this week, my boyfriend made sure to nag them until they upgraded us to one of the Champagne suites. It was the first of many decadent things we experienced during the weekend.

The second was dinner, which happened to be at Taillevent. We realized a couple months ago after making reservations there and at two other three Michelin star restaurants that we needed a proper excuse for being so indulgent.

Lucky for us, we remembered that our three year anniversary fell sometime during that week, so we decided that three Michelin stars per day for three days would only be appropriate. (Yes, it’s a bit of a stretch, but it was the best we could come up with.)

Our eight-course tasting menu at Taillevent took us from artichoke mousse to crunchy balls of foie gras to scallops with water cress to duck with a hint of cinnamon. Dessert was a parade of pistachio and chocolate mousse and petit fours. My stomach left the restaurant feeling like it had just swallowed the most delicious bowling ball in the world.

The next day we indulged our artistic whims with a trip to the Louvre. Cliche, you say? Not so. My boyfriend has now been to Paris five times and I am ashamed to say that I’ve never taken him to the city’s most well-known museum.

We spent the afternoon at the Louvre hitting all the highlights. We gazed upon the Winged Victory of Samothrace and battled the crowds to see the Mona Lisa. We visited Cupid and Psyche, the Venus de Milo, Michelangelo’s Dying Slave, and the Italian paintings in the Denon wing.

Exhausted by the seemingly endless halls of the palace, we headed to Laduree for tea and a late lunch. The rest of the afternoon was spent sipping more tea at our hotel (my god, am I becoming English?) with a friend from San Francisco who was in town.

Dinner that night was at Guy Savoy, the second of our trio of three Michelin star restaurants in Paris. Our stomachs still recovering from the night before, we opted to dine a la carte that evening.

However, that didn’t stop us from filling up on scallops covered in white truffles (ah Alba, how we missed you!), asparagus soup with black truffles and mushroom brioche with truffle butter, and fresh sole with young leeks.

We were too full for dessert. But. When the petit four cart came around and the server offered us no less than seven petit fours and three cakes, we found a little room for some decadent chocolates, lemony marshmallows, and pistachio macaroons.

Not wanting to go straight to bed after eating, we got a drink at a bar called Asian. Naturally, we were two of the five white kids there. Notwithstanding our two-of-these-things-just-doesn’t-belong status, we enjoyed the live band and were amused by the rather bizarre “making of the Pirelli calendar” video that was playing in the background.

Sunday morning we dragged ourselves out of bed and went for a walk. After a brief croissant stop at the Paul chalet at the Christmas market on the Champs, we meandered by the Grand Palais and over Pont Alexandre III.

Throwing glances at the Eiffel Tower and the gilded dome of Invalides, we made our way down rue de l’Universite until we got to rue du Bac. We headed up a little ways and then turned off on rue de Montalembert for lunch.

The third of the three Michelin starred restaurants of the weekend was L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon. The style of the place was different from the others in that instead of sitting at a table, everyone sits at the bar. There is an open kitchen behind the seating area, so there is a great view of all of the food being prepared.

For starters we ordered serrano ham and Norwegian smoked salmon. Both were delicious. We moved on from there to mouth-watering lamb and buttery cod. On the side we were served a tiny Le Creuset pot of mashed potatoes.

As our server put the potatoes down, he informed us that they were the “worst mashed potatoes in the world.” When we asked why, he told us that they would taste good, but that they would be bad for us. We had already eaten our weight in butter over the preceding two days, so we figured one more stick wouldn’t hurt us.

When we took our first bite, I was surprised at the lack of buttery flavor. However, I immediately recognized another flavor that I had tasted the previous weekend at lunch with my boyfriend’s grandmother in Dusseldorf: goose fat.

When the server came back to clear our dishes, we asked him if the potatoes were made with butter, potatoes, and goose fat. “Yes,” he said. “Butter and potatoes.” “And goose fat,” we pressed. “Yes,” he smiled sheepishly. “And goose fat.” Mmmmmmm.

For dessert we ordered a duo of pots de creme, one chocolate and one vanilla. After my experience at the French Laundry, I wasn’t going to let another top restaurant cheat me out of my pot de creme.* I was glad I didn’t.

We left lunch and walked back to the Grand Palais, where we had tickets for the Picasso et les Maîtres exhibition. Talked about as the art event of the season, the exhibition featured Picasso’s works alongside those of earlier masters that had influenced him.

After Picasso we headed to Opera so my boyfriend could see the giant Christmas tree at Galleries Lafayette. From there we went to the Marais, where we got sidetracked in the basement hardware store of the BHV. My boyfriend was in DIY heaven, picking out all kinds of things he “needed” while I played defense and made sure he didn’t make too many impulse buys while waiting in line.

After our detour in the BHV we only had time for a quick stroll through the Marais before heading to the hotel to pick up our bags and head to the Eurostar.

We arrived in London around 11pm to be greeted by a friendly fox who followed us home. I think it smelled the succulent scent of the thirty sticks of butter and three cups of goose fat we consumed over the weekend. After all our hedonistic indulging, we most definitely would have made a tasty snack.

* Two years ago at The French Laundry:

My Server: For the next course, we have a chocolate pot de creme for the gentlemen and a creme brulee for the ladies.
Me: Excuse me, could I ask you a question?
My Server: Of course.
My Server: Is there a reason why the desserts are gendered?
[My boyfriend hides his face in his hands. My friend starts laughing. My boyfriend's friend looks bewildered.]
My Server: Um, uh, well…in all my seven years of service here, it has been my experience that the gentlemen prefer the pot de creme and the ladies prefer the creme brulee.
Me: Okay, thank you. I was just wondering.
I kindly force my boyfriend to hand over a generous spoonful of his pot de creme, my favorite dessert. I have always wondered whether they still serve the desserts in a gendered fashion.

My new passport arrived in the mail at the end of November and since then I’ve been diligently putting it to work. First was my trip to Dusseldorf. Then came Paris for the first of two trips to the City of Lights this week.

I took the Eurostar to Paris on Wednesday morning at 5:25am. Exhausted from the Lucha Libre festivities the prior evening, I staggered off the train at Gare du Nord and headed straight for my favorite breakfast place in the city. It’s a tiny little restaurant called Cuisine de Bar near Saint-Sulpice. It serves up amazing tartines, croissants, and the best chocolat chaud in the world.

Satiated and marginally more awake, I spent the second half of my morning exploring the Christmas markets at Place Saint-Sulpice and Marche St. Germain. The smell of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts lured me through stalls filled with everything from silk scarves to Russian matryoshka dolls.

It being early and me not having gone to an ATM, I bought neither mulled wine nor other holiday goodies. Instead I made my way across the Seine to the Louvre, where I strolled through the Tuileries wishing it were lovely summer and 75 degrees instead of gray winter and bone-chilling cold.

At Concorde I threw a nostalgic glance in the direction my former place of work, then rode the metro to George V. I tried to check into my room at the Prince de Galles, but unfortunately my boyfriend hadn’t been able to add my name to the reservation yet.

Undeterred, I headed up to Etoile, soaking up the Champs and the monumental Arc de Triomphe, then took the metro to the Marais. I spent the afternoon visiting my favorite boutiques (Antoine et Lili in particular), the Place des Vosges, and of course Mariage Freres. I stopped at a crowded corner bistro for a lunch of onion soup and crusty bread, then headed over to the Ile St. Louis.

I didn’t stop on the island or its Notre Dame-sporting neighbor, but kept walking until I was back in St. Germain. I had to visit one of my other favorite places in Paris, Les Editeurs. I sat down amongst the book-lined walls on a bright red banquette and spent two hours reading a book and sipping my Earl Gray (at 5 euro a pop, I had to savor the stuff!). Ah, Paris. How I love thee.

I finally managed to pry my bookish rear end off the banquette around 5, and headed to the hotel to unload my bag. My boyfriend met me there shortly thereafter. At the suggestion of a good friend that I used to work with in Paris, we had a big steak frites dinner at Le Relais de l’Entrecôte.

After gorging ourselves on healthy steak, we headed to the Champs to see the Christmas lights. Just like last year, they were beautiful. Every tree was glowing with little blue lights, and the Ferris wheel at the Place de la Concorde was illuminated brilliantly. No wonder it’s called the City of Lights.

We walked through the Christmas market at the end of the street, then headed back to the hotel to rest before going out with my boyfriend’s coworker. We never made it out. Ten minutes after we got to the hotel we were both fast asleep.

The next morning my boyfriend left for London, so I was once again flying solo in Paris. I grabbed a quick croissant for breakfast, then headed over to the Maison d’Alsace to check out the Christmas market. A bit small, but I liked that it was indoors.

I headed down the street where I used to live (there’s a Starbucks there now…sad!) and up to Parc Monceau, my favorite place in Paris (even more favorite than the rest of my favorites). I got sufficiently nostalgic for the long summer evenings I spent there with my friends, then I went down to Opera for some window shopping at the Grands Magasins.

The Christmas lights and decorations were out in full force all around Opera, but the crowds were worringly thin for the holiday shopping season.

I left the Grands Magasins and headed up to Montmartre, where I had a giant gallette for lunch and walked up the butte to see the Sacre Coeur. I strolled around the hill for awhile, then pried myself away from the land of Amelie Poulin and the Passe-Muraille to head back to the Gare du Nord for the long journey back to London.

I would have left the City of Lights with a heavy heart, but I’m going back to Paris today for the rest of the weekend. At this rate, I’m going to need extra pages in my new passport even faster than I needed them in my last one!

5: Number of countries visited on my trip

1: Number of unexpected layovers in countries I hadn’t planned to visit. Hong Kong was a lot of fun, though!

3: Number of markets (Christmas and otherwise) I visited in Paris

565,345,234: Number of sheep and cows in New Zealand (could even be more, who can tell?)

0: Number of stores in New Zealand that stay open passed 3:30pm, even in the high season (what’s with that?)

6: Number of beaches I visited in Australia and New Zealand

7: Number of wineries I visited in Australia and New Zealand

5: Number of friends I got to meet up with during my round-the-world trip

Too Many: Number of subway lines in Tokyo (underground metropolitan transport may be the only case in which I fully support state control of something)

2: Number of amazing brunches I ate in Sydney

3: Number of dives I did at the Great Barrier Reef in Australia (wish it could have been more!)

0: Number of cassowaries I saw in Port Douglas, Australia even after all the signs to watch for them

3: Number of zoos or other animal-oriented attractions I visited on the trip

4: Number of Red Pandas I saw at the Taronga Zoo in Sydney

A whole bunch: Number of adorable kiwi birds I really really wanted to take home with me from New Zealand

1: Number of aritlces in the New York Times about round-the-world tickets while I was on my trip (apparently I’m a jet setter!)

5: Number of trips I made in 2007 using airline miles (Portland, Saint John, Mexico, D.C., London). I still made Platinum on American Airlines for 2007 without ever once flying for work. Let’s hope 2008 is equally full of adventure!

We traveled to Sydney yesterday morning after a harrowing journey from Paris. London fog caused all flights from Paris to be canceled except for two. We got onto one of them, but it was delayed for four hours, so we sat in CDG for seven hours and then missed our London-Singapore-Sydney flight by five minutes.

We begged our way onto another flight from London to Singapore (they literally refused to let us on but my boyfriend wouldn’t take no for an answer). We got to Singapore in time to catch our original flight to Sydney, but by then they had canceled our tickets since we “no showed” for the London-Singapore portion. We were finally able to get re-booked and barely made it to the gate in time for boarding. It was a complete nightmare, but we were so glad to get to Australia on Christmas morning.

We met up with a friend from San Francisco and spent the afternoon at the Taronga Zoo in Sydney. There we saw red pandas, penguins, kangaroos, wallabies, dingoes, and even a wombat! After the zoo we went to Manly Beach. We ate lunch there and then walked around the Sydney harbor and saw the opera house, the bridge, and the surrounding area. We were so tired by 8pm that we had a beer for dinner and then fell asleep at 8:30pm and woke up this morning at 7:45am.

It’s sunny outside today, so we can’t wait to get out and watch the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race and then hit up Bondi Beach this afternoon. I have taken some pictures of Sydney, so will post them when I get some time…

My week in Paris went by in a wonderful blur of crepes and croque monsieurs, Marais and Montmartre, fondue and falafel, and just about every other wonderful thing about the city of lights. My friend and I explored areas of Paris we hadn’t previously visited, including the Montmartre vineyard, a great farmer’s market near Bastille, and a beautiful park in the 17th.

On Saturday I went to a cooking class at the Cordon Bleu, where I learned how to make a three-course French meal (using about a hundred kilos of butter…I don’t know how they don’t all die of heart attacks!), and then met my friend for tea at the Mosquee de Paris.

It was sad to say good-bye when I got on the Eurostar this afternoon, and strange to hear myself answer “two years” when the passport agent asked me how long I was planning to stay in the UK.

When I arrived in London and my boyfriend met me at Waterloo Station with a bouquet of beautiful Stargazer Lilies, I got excited about London all over again. It feels surreal to finally be here, and I’m excited for the adventures to begin!

My time in Paris has been great so far. I arrived on Monday afternoon after a long trip from San Francisco (via London). After standing in line forever to buy a ticket on the RER, my two heavy suicases (42.5 kg!) and I made the long journey to Gare du Nord to exchange my Eurostar youth voucher (can’t believe I’m still a ‘youth’ here!) for a ticket.

After forty minutes of waiting in line (don’t let the free Wi-Fi deceive you; Paris is still a land of gross inefficiency and laberinthine beauracracy), I accomplished my mission and my luggage and I took the metro to the Marais.

I needed help with my bags at pretty much every juncture, and the Parisians were very helpful to me. Three people helped me get my bags off the RER, two helped me get them up the stairs in the metro stations, and countless others stopped to ask if I needed help. Never let it be said that Parisians are rude to Americans!

I arrived in the Marais in time to meet my friend as she was getting home, and she helped me schlep my suitcases up the six flights of stairs to her apartment. It was a great feeling to finally arrive at her place three hours aftert my flight landed.

We woke up around 9am yesterday and headed to the Latin Quarter. The day was sunny and clear, and we walked with her three-month-old puppy to rue Mouffetard. We ate gigantic crepes for lunch and then sat at a cafe to boire un verre and enjoy the sun before heading off to the Jardin de Luxembourg. The Jardin was just as beautiful as I remember it, and it made me miss living here.

We walked around by Invalides and then I wandered around the Marais for awhile brefore meeting my friend again for moules frites for dinner. A bottle of wine and a lot of good conversation later, we were ready for bed.

I’m so happy to be in Paris!