After dreaming of Paris and the Eiffel Tower for more than half my life I got to experience the city, and kiss a handsome man at the tippy-top of the tower.
As much as I want to gush about how romantic the whole scenario was, I can’t.
It was romantic in the sense that everything is butterflies when you are in a new relationship, but voice on the loud-speaker warning us to beware of pickpockets was kind of a buzz kill.
In fact, a lot about Paris was a buzz kill.
Like the price of wine. That adage about wine being cheaper than soda might be true in other parts of Europe, but not Paris. And I may be totally biased, but none of the expensive wine I was drinking could compete with the cheap Italian wine I can get at home. Total fail, Paris.
One way Paris did not let me down: the cheese sauce. The restaurants served it with red meat and fish and it was divine. It was both creamy and pungent. Yum.
Oh yeah, and the Creme Brule, I ate two a day.
I’m surprised that I didn’t feel at home in Paris since I had dreamed and plotted about it for about twenty years…. but I just… didn’t. It is not my city. But it is the city where I got to kiss a handsome man way up in the sky, so overall, not bad, Paris.