Issue 11: From Missed Trains to Louvre Dates, A Chaotic Parisian Adventure
This week's travel log explores a chaotic Parisian adventure filled with missed trains, museum wanderings, and unexpected encounters in the City of Lights.
It’s the night before my first-ever solo trip. I had just come back from dinner with a childhood friend I hadn’t seen in over five years. Over sushi, we caught up on everything, what we’d been up to, where life had taken us. It was one of those conversations where time folds in on itself, collapsing five years into a few hours.
When I got home, I called my oldest sister for some last-minute packing advice. Her suggestion? “Look unassuming.” So, I ditched the bright colours and stuck to navy, black, grey, and white. I also opted against my carry-on suitcase to avoid looking “too new here” and instead packed a duffle bag and a crossbody that could probably fit a small child under the age of three.
Packed and ready to go, I set my alarm for 4 a.m. to catch my 6:01 a.m. train from King’s Cross. How convenient is Euro travel? I thought. A two-hour train ride from central London straight to the heart of Paris? Unreal. I was ready to take Paris by storm, with my very last-minute but heavily curated itinerary in hand.
A Chaotic Start: The Missed Eurostar
The next morning, I woke up at 6:10 a.m. My train had left me. I was just waking up.
My alarm didn’t ring, none of them did (and I had set multiple). I stared at the time, laughing in pure disbelief. Of course, I would miss my train. Of course, this would happen to me. I texted my sister an ominous “I missed my train ☠️” at what was still 1 a.m. her time, and she responded almost immediately. Then I called my dad, who (bless his heart) didn’t even sound surprised. He encouraged me to buy a new ticket, which ended up costing me a liver, a lung, and a significant chunk of my Paris spending money.
But there was no turning back, I had an itinerary, a prepaid hotel room, and only 7 days left in London before flying to Casablanca for a family Christmas vacation. I was also determined to stretch every last bit of life out of my Schengen visa before it expired. So, I sucked it up, booked a new ticket, and took an Uber to King’s Cross (because clearly, public transport and I were not on speaking terms that morning).
Once at the station, I asked the Eurostar staff if I could get a refund for my missed train. Turns out, I could’ve just shown up and paid a £40 difference instead of buying a whole new ticket. Love that for me. But at that point, there was nothing to do but move on. I went through security, got on the train, and sulked my way to Paris.
Arriving in Paris & My First Stop
I arrived at Gare du Nord, clutching my two bags like my life depended on it. Fortunately, my hotel was only a short walk away. Even more fortunately, the concierge was kind enough to let me check in early.
After dropping off my bags, I headed straight for a café I had found online, one that supposedly had the best croissants and matcha in Paris. True to form, I arrived only to find they had no croissants left. Devastating. But the matcha? Incredible. The baristas? So lovely. Small wins.
Exploring Paris: Museums & Unexpected Encounters
After the café, I made my way, on foot, because I was too scared to take the metro alone (the Métropolitain sign I passed, while beautiful, gave me Dracula vibes), to my next stop: the Musée d’Orsay. Since I didn’t have a timed ticket, I took a scenic route, soaking in the city as I walked. The morning had been gloomy and rainy, but now the sun was shining, and everything felt warm and relaxed.
I strolled from the 9th arrondissement, popping into a few thrift and boutique stores for some casual window shopping. Eventually, I found myself at the Louvre, where I stood outside, mesmerized by the Pyramide du Louvre for a solid 15 minutes. Since the museum was closed that day, I took a few pictures, just enjoying the moment. A man nearby, also admiring the pyramid, approached me and asked if I wanted him to take a photo of me in front of it. I politely declined because:
a.) I was convinced he might snatch my phone and disappear into the Parisian abyss.
b.) My sister had warned me to be unassuming.
He took the rejection well and struck up a conversation, asking what I was doing in Paris. I lied, saying I was visiting friends. He told me he was a lighting engineer (whatever that means) working in Paris, and he welcomed me to the city of lights and love. It was a pleasant conversation, but as it wrapped up, he asked if I wanted to grab drinks later. I declined, again, lying, saying I had plans with my imaginary friends. When he then suggested exchanging numbers, I respectfully declined once more, said goodbye, and made my way across the Seine, catching glimpses of the Eiffel Tower peeking through the Parisian skyline in all her glory. Eventually, I arrived at the Musée d’Orsay.
Inside the Musée d’Orsay
I joined the line for people who didn’t pre-book tickets (I’d been warned, but did I listen?). While waiting, I had a quick call with my dad to let him know I’d made it safely to Paris and was about to embark on my first museum visit.
Once inside, I was immediately greeted by an array of colorful maps in different languages, along with a crowd of excited, confused, and slightly overwhelmed visitors navigating their way through the first floor. I was in my personal Disney World, there’s nothing I love more than exploring an art gallery or museum solo, completely at my own pace.
I had come specifically to see Gauguin’s work (which I mentioned in Issue 2: The Art of Looking and Becoming), but I let myself get lost in the exhibits. I floated through different rooms, eras, and artistic movements, fully immersed in Parisian art and, of course, indulging in a little people-watching. I saw works by Manet, Degas, and Monet in person for the first time, painters I had studied in art history classes. I also discovered new artists, like Georges Rochegrosse and his stunning Le Chevalier aux Fleurs and Jean-Jules-Antoine Lecomte du Nouÿ with his dramatic Ramses in His Harem Dance.
Two and a half hours flew by, and before I knew it, the museum was closing.
Chasing the Eiffel Tower Sparkle
I had one last stop for the evening: Rue de l’Université, supposedly the best (read: least touristy) spot to watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle. But first, a quick detour. Right next to the Musée d’Orsay, I spotted a crêpe stand and, naturally, had to get two.
As I set off on foot toward my next destination, the weather had other plans, it started pouring. Picture me, struggling to shield my precious crêpes from the rain while navigating very questionable routes that Google Maps was leading me through. But I pressed on, determined.
I finally arrived at Rue de l’Université with two minutes to spare before the tower’s first sparkle of the evening. But… either I missed the part where I was supposed to walk through a dark and muddy path to actually get a view, or someone lied to me about this being the best spot, because I couldn’t see much of anything.
So, I improvised. I followed the glow of the Eiffel Tower, along with a small crowd that seemed to know where they were going. And let me tell you, it was so worth it.
I stood there, watching the tower shimmer against the night sky, and felt completely at peace.
At this point, it was 6 PM, and I had been up since 6 AM, running on less than five hours of sleep and at least 20,000 steps. Exhaustion hit me like a truck. I took an Uber back to my hotel, ready to collapse, but I still had dinner plans. Lying on my bed, I debated skipping it, but somehow, I mustered the energy to experience at least one Parisian night out.
Because, when in Paris, right?
A Parisian Night Out: Feeling Like a Local at Bambino
Around 9 p.m., I made my way to Bambino in the 11th arrondissement, a restaurant/bar/listening room hybrid. At the time I was in Paris, it wasn’t as popular on social media as other places, which was exactly what I wanted. A spot that wasn’t overflowing with tourists but rather one of those if you know, you know places where Parisians who loved a good third space went.
Created by Fabien Lombardi and inspired by his travels in Japan and Tel Aviv, Bambino is a multifaceted meeting place where the atmosphere sets the mood. With no reservations allowed, you either wait in line if they’re full or get lucky and walk right in. Thankfully, since I was dining solo that night, I managed to snag a seat fairly quickly.
While waiting in line, I kept myself entertained by reading my book and shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversations around me. People passing by would stop and ask me in French, “Pas de place à l’intérieur?” (No room inside?). With my very broken French, I could piece together what they were saying and respond with a shrug and a hesitant “Je ne sais pas.” At one point, someone must have assumed I was fluent because, after exchanging a casual “Salut” or “Pardon”, they launched into full-speed French. That’s when I had to hit them with a “Je parle anglais, désolé”, and we switched to English.
Once inside, I was seated in a cosy little corner, perfect for people-watching. When the waiter came over, I asked for a glass of red wine, whatever he recommended. He then looked at me and asked, “Do you want something with more body or not?” which, for some reason, sent me into silent hysterics. I had no idea what he meant, but I just went with it and said, “Sure, why not?” He brought me my wine and disappeared into the crowd.
Scanning the menu, I decided to treat myself after such a long day. With the help of my incredibly patient and kind waiter, I ordered a few dishes that sounded both interesting and delicious. From what I remember, the food was phenomenal, with bold, rich flavours that seemed to be carefully curated by the chef and Fabien himself. The ambience was just as good as the food, with an interior and music selection that complemented each other perfectly.
One of my greatest joys is eating alone at a restaurant, and as someone who has had many solo meals around the world, I felt completely at ease here. Everyone was in their world, enjoying their evening, and there was no awkwardness about dining alone, probably because it’s a common sight in Paris.
I have my reservations about turning my travel logs into recommendations or travel guides, but if you ever find yourself in Paris, whether solo, with a friend, or in a group, I highly recommend Bambino. A girl on TikTok saw my “48 Hours in Paris” post and told me she was going to Paris solo in January of 2024, so she checked out Bambino and loved it. That made me feel like a proud food scout.
After a lovely evening of people-watching and immersing myself in what Parisians do on a December night, I took an Uber back to my hotel. My driver wasn’t much of a talker, but I was convinced he thought he was in a Fast & Furious scene, or maybe he had somewhere urgent to be because his driving was wild.
The Croissant Conundrum
I got back to my hotel and called it a night. Or so I thought.
I woke up to a loud noise coming from outside my window and was convinced someone was about to break in. The noise went on for what felt like 30 minutes, and every time I tried to fall back asleep, my body jolted me awake in fear. At that moment, I completely understood why my dad had insisted I stay in a well-known hotel, his voice echoed in my head, and I said to myself "Next time when travelling, always listen to your parents!!"
Eventually, the sun started rising, and I felt safe enough to close my eyes again. I managed about three hours of sleep before being woken up by the cleaners walking into my room. At that point, I figured I might as well get up and start my day.
I went down to ask for a late checkout, which the concierge kindly granted. He also mentioned that I could have the hotel breakfast for free (even though it usually came with an extra charge), and of course, I jumped at the offer. That breakfast turned out to be the highlight of the hotel stay. To this day, I still dream about those pancakes, probably the best I’ve ever had. And, funnily enough, it was also the only time I actually had a croissant during the entire trip.
After breakfast, I made my way to a photo automat to commemorate my first solo trip, then headed to Mamiche, but unfortunately, they were out of croissants. I wandered into a few thrift stores with no intention of buying anything (which, in my experience, is the fastest way to end up buying something). Eventually, I made my way back to the hotel to check out.
When I asked if they could hold my bags since my train wasn’t until later in the evening, the receptionist, who had been quite witty my entire stay, said, “Unfortunately, we don’t do that,” before pausing dramatically and adding, “Just kidding.” He then took my bags and stored them for me. He had been playing little jokes like this since I arrived, including pretending not to speak English when I first checked in. At first, I found it endearing, but by the end of my stay, it was toeing the line between quirky and questionable.
Musée de l’Orangerie & The Louvre: Walking Fatigue
After yet another chaotic morning, I made my way on foot to the Musée de l’Orangerie. If you’ve been a loyal reader, you already know how I feel about that experience (it was incredible! Read Issue 7: Claude Monet; Embracing Modernity and Lessons of Impressionism). On my way there, I was completely captivated by the over-the-top Christmas decorations by Chanel, Dior, and other fashion houses, Parisians really do love a dramatic holiday display.
At the Orangerie, I was introduced to Modigliani, whose paintings intrigued me with their elongated features and haunting expressions. I also came across a Picasso, a Matisse, and a painting titled Les Trois Sœurs, which reminded me of my sisters and me.
Afterwards, I finally made my way to The Louvre! Excited but exhausted, I was heading there for three key reasons:
To see Nike of Samothrace
To see the Mona Lisa
And most importantly, to see Liberty Leading the People
But first, I needed a pain au chocolat and Coca-Cola break, essential fuel before embarking on the journey that is The Louvre.
Standing before Nike of Samothrace, I was speechless. She was stunning. Meanwhile, the Mona Lisa was… tiny. The painting opposite it was much more interesting than I expected, but it was completely overshadowed by the hoards of tourists fighting to get a picture.
I wandered through different wings, but honestly, most of what I saw wasn’t my thing. Then, I finally made my way to see Liberty Leading the People, only to be greeted by a massive banner that read: "Under Conservation Treatment Until Spring 2024."
Sigh.
Disappointed but undeterred, I ventured into the African art section, which, unsurprisingly, was tucked away in an obscure corner and nearly empty. Classic.
Final Hours in Paris
By this point, I was done. My feet were screaming, and all I wanted was the same crêpe I had the day before. I made my way back to the same stand, and the vendor remembered me.
He asked if I was in Paris for work and if I was American. (I didn’t know I presented myself that way?)
We had a quick chat before I wandered toward the Jardin des Tuileries and the Carrousel Garden, passing The Louvre again to see it lit up at night.
As I walked past the Carrousel Triumphal Arch, I was mesmerized by sculptors and restoration experts working on preserving Parisian sculptures. They had built-in windows in their workstations so passersby could watch them in action, which I found fascinating. The sheer talent and dedication were astounding. The arch itself was covered in a tarp with a printed image of what it looked like underneath, and nearby, signs detailed the restoration process. It reminded me of the preservation work I saw in Athens.
Though I had a sneaking suspicion that all of this was in preparation for the 2024 Summer Olympics, I still felt lucky to witness Paris in this state, before the chaos of the games changed the city’s atmosphere. I remember standing there, taking it all in, and thinking: This is the last time Paris will look and feel like this for a long time.
Too tired to walk back to my hotel, I called an Uber, picked up my bags, and headed to Gare du Nord to say farewell to a chaotic but wonderful two days in Paris.
International Development & Cultural Reflections
Paris is a city that embodies history, art, and global influence, but beneath its grandeur lies a complex history of colonialism, economic dominance, and cultural soft power. The very monuments that define the city, like the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, and even the Eiffel Tower, speak to its role as an imperial capital. Much like London, Paris has a contested relationship with the Global South, reflected in its museums, which house artefacts taken from former colonies.
From an international development perspective, Paris symbolizes the paradox of modernity: a city celebrated for its Enlightenment ideals while grappling with the historical legacies of exploitation. The city’s intellectual and cultural dominance, through institutions like the Sorbonne or the global influence of French fashion, continues to shape discourse worldwide. However, one must ask: who gets to define culture, and whose voices are left out?
Conclusion: The Magic of Paris Despite the Chaos
Although this trip was physically exhausting (and I swore I would never go on a solo trip again after my terrifying night experience), it was incredibly eye-opening. I conquered the challenge of travelling and exploring a city on my own for the first time, creating unique experiences and memories that only I (and now you all) will remember. It was refreshing, and it became an unforgettable adventure where I not only deepened my appreciation for art but also realized just how much I love my own company.
It was a spontaneous yet well-planned trip, I didn’t even do everything on my itinerary, and I shifted so many things around. But sometimes, the best experiences come from unplanned moments: wandering through streets my maps didn’t lead me to or having unexpected conversations with strangers at a restaurant or on the street. With this newfound side of myself unlocked, I have a more open mind toward solo travel. And little did I know, my next solo trip would take me to an incredible Greek island, (completely unplanned, by the way!) Look out for that issue coming soon!
If you’re someone hesitant about solo travel and don’t know where to start, let this post be your encouragement. My advice? Your first solo trip can absolutely be to a big city if that’s what excites you. Places like London, New York, and Paris are easy to navigate and packed with things to do, so boredom isn’t an option. But if bustling cities aren’t your thing, consider exploring the countryside of whatever country you live in (if it is safe to do so), engage with rural communities, learn something new, and embrace the adventure in a way that feels right for you.
And on that note, I’ll see you next week, hopefully Monday. Thank you again for 100+ subscribers, cheers to many more!
Lovely read
Such a great read!! Can totally relate to Paris drivers cosplaying Fast and Furious! I was holding my breath!