C’est l’heure où je vais me coucher, Il est cinq heures

Paris, France – If you are an impulsive fire sign like myself, chances are, the word “planning” is almost nonexistent in your everyday vocabulary. Nothing irks me more than sitting in front of a screen for hours trying to put together a trip. I am as trigger-happy as they come, and my credit card always happens to materialize whenever I have unprecedented desires of booking yet another flight. If you have been following along for a while, then you must know by now that I do not swim in money like some people assume – thus; in order to create balance in my bank balance, while still accommodating my unbridled impulses to click “book now” on any given booking site, I have mastered the art of traveling on a budget. Which could possibly be the only thing I have successfully mastered in life.

Missing my BFF and scheming on how to possibly put myself in the vicinity of her delicious cooking magic, I booked a 5 day trip to Paris. One must note, I was already in the South of Spain where my familia resides, so I didn’t need to sacrifice my first child for this ticket – yet I had another almost 3 months of traveling Europe planned immediately followed by a few months in Bali, so I knew I had to do some math in order to get by. Easy enough, you say, but I failed math in 5th grade for a reason. I quickly redistributed the responsibility to be a financially capable adult to Erica by forcing her to take over the budgeting, since she was the local, which was the excuse I was sticking to. And with that, and a demanding “I cant afford this trip so please feed me and don’t let me shop”, I was on my way.

Arriving in Paris is always such a rush, navigating my way through the metro while fighting the urge to run into every boulangerie to fulfill every one of my food fantasies that generally consist of carbs, cheese and more cheese. And more wine. We kicked the first night off by enjoying massive jugs of potent Sangrias: “If there are 8 of us and we get 3 jugs then we all only pay 15 Euros each and we will all be drunk”. Needless to say, I had quite the week. In between feeding times, we were paying for the calories by embarking on lots and lots of walking. There was a fancy little 3-course lunch she took me to, where I contributed the bottle of wine (of course), and some greasy Chinese food was had at some point.

The main point I am trying to prove here is that yes, Paris can be expensive. And not only that but it can be super pricy and the food doesn’t necessarily have to be good. It is a city that is full of tourist traps, and if you panic because like myself, you may not have had enough wine to remember what little French you know, you may end up screwing yourself. And let’s face it: all those bloggers posting photos like “Bonjour, Paris” while hanging out of a window at George V are selling you a dream that most human beings can’t possibly afford. So here’s a more realistic summary of a little Paris getaway in photos, for us normal mortals who still have to work.

Stay tuned for photos and details of my little Paris food adventures, in the next post!

Merciiii beaucoup mes petits chéris,

XO

Dane

reunited with my more sensible twin

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6 Euro cocktails for Happy Hour

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