It's a clear evening, the air feels crisp outside and you would probably be able to see the stars, if it wasn't for the fact that this is Paris. A city dealing with smog like never before. Nevertheless it is a beautiful, borderline romantic evening, as Alice and I stroll down Rue du Temple. This isn't a romantic escape. Alice and I are not dating, despite want some people may or may not think. This trip stands a cultural pilgrimage. Paris is more than just the epicenter of romance. It's culture, art and cheese. Three things Alice and I both really, really appreciate.
It's been a long day. We've spent the majority of it wondering around the Louvre, hustling and bustling to get a glimpse of Mona Lisa and adoring both Monet and Manet. After leaving the old palace, we dragged our sore feet to Forum des Halles, for some much needed window shopping. With a café au lait in hand, we headed up Rue de Turbigo to Rue du Temple where we now found ourselves. At the end of the street lies Place de la République, which is where we're heading.
Sitting down in a quaint cafe by the square, Alice and I each order a tomato soup and a glass of lemonade. As we eat and talk, people walk past us outside. Chic Parisians in wool coats and Chanel bags. A city in constant movement. The Eiffel Tower is glittering in the crisp air somewhere not far away. At Montmartre the artists are packing up their little stores and the tourists are on their way back to their hotels. Alice and I sit still and wonder. Modern life on the Boulevards, red wine and cheese. Paris moves and glitters.
It's been a long day. We've spent the majority of it wondering around the Louvre, hustling and bustling to get a glimpse of Mona Lisa and adoring both Monet and Manet. After leaving the old palace, we dragged our sore feet to Forum des Halles, for some much needed window shopping. With a café au lait in hand, we headed up Rue de Turbigo to Rue du Temple where we now found ourselves. At the end of the street lies Place de la République, which is where we're heading.
Sitting down in a quaint cafe by the square, Alice and I each order a tomato soup and a glass of lemonade. As we eat and talk, people walk past us outside. Chic Parisians in wool coats and Chanel bags. A city in constant movement. The Eiffel Tower is glittering in the crisp air somewhere not far away. At Montmartre the artists are packing up their little stores and the tourists are on their way back to their hotels. Alice and I sit still and wonder. Modern life on the Boulevards, red wine and cheese. Paris moves and glitters.
