Joseph Graham

One of the reasons I was so adamant about choosing France as my destination for studying abroad was because I knew that if I was in France, I’d have several opportunities to travel to Paris.

Traveling in Europe, as you may already know, is far cheaper than it is to travel in the states. To get to Paris, I chose to take a bus (bad idea) for just 4 euros roundtrip. While I never knew if the bus would be late, crowded or not show up at all, it was a deal I just couldn’t pass up.

Of course, I had rather high expectations for Paris. It’s a city that billions of people around the world dream of visiting, so I figured that it had to be flawless.

Although I had anticipated a trip to Paris at some point this semester, I must say that it was pretty spontaneous. My two friends and I didn’t even book our room in the hostel on Montmartre until 20 minutes before our bus arrived in Paris (something I would have never agreed to before arriving in Europe).

Nevertheless, the first night in Paris was nothing short of perfection.

My friend had the brilliant idea of going to one of the highest points in the city to have a picnic while we watched both the sunset and some very skilled street performers show off their best talents for the rather large crowds. What’d we eat? Baguettes. I’m getting used to them now.

After we ate, we wasted no time figuring out the best way to see Paris by night and the best route to take to the Eiffel Tower. The best idea we had that whole weekend was to ride bikes down the hill from Montmartre all the way into the center of town. Now, I’m not sure why we thought it would be a good idea, for it was pretty dangerous, given Paris’ heavy traffic and again because we were speeding down a hill with no respect for the traffic, but it seemed to make all of the difference when seeing Paris’ city center for the first time.

Once we got to The Seine, the river, which runs right into the heart of the city, it was easy to disregard my fatigue from the long trek. The Eiffel Tower seemed to be beckoning us and there was really no escaping it. As we inched closer and closer to the tower, we passed by several street art exhibits on display for one of Paris’ largest festivals, “Nuit Blanche” or White Night.

Seeing the Eiffel up close and personal, lit up with its many flashing bulbs was nothing short of magnificent. I had trouble trying to compare its beauty to anything that I had seen prior to that point, but it was nearly impossible. We stumbled upon a tiny park adjacent to the tower, which wasn’t occupied by anyone else. No other tourists. No selfie sticks. No beggars. Just us.

I know it’s cliché, but I found myself taking deep breaths to literally take the moments in.

The next night was Nuit Blanche. We gathered with tons of Parisians and selfie-stick holding tourists at Hôtel de Ville (city hall), to take a glimpse at some very unorthodox interpretations of art. Although we didn’t get to see as much art as we wanted, for lines to see these masterpieces were far too long and the exhibits themselves were not easily discovered even with our map, the night got even more interesting.

We ended up meeting a mixed group of American and Canadian girls who were studying in Paris through a smaller group of girls we met in the metro the previous night. It was then 2 a.m. and we weren’t going back to the hostel anytime soon because…well, we were in Paris? The group walked to one of the girls’ apartments and talked about everything from what it was like to study in Paris to why Kanye West was so great, all over a shared glass of cheap wine and olives.

Paris at 2 a.m. soon became 4 a.m. and it seemed as though the night was still young. We settled on going to a boat party on the Seine. We didn’t get in because the party was already over. We tried another attempt to extend the night by looking for another club which ended up being far too expensive.

One of my friends had the urge to see the Louvre at 5 a.m. and wouldn’t really take “No” for an answer, so we biked along the Seine toward the infamous museum, until we were much too tired of biking and of lifting our rented bikes over staircases we hadn’t anticipated along the riverbank, which had been destroyed by broken glass, empty bottles of wine, tons of drunken old men, skaters and lovers of course.

We were told the metro would run all night because of the festival. That was a lie.

With a solid half-hour to kill before the first metro of that cold morning, what else could one do but go to the fanciest café nearby and order an overpriced Earl Grey tea and an omelette?

I saw a different, dirtier Paris that last night, but looking back on the weekend, it was all a part of the experience I suppose. While I may regret not climbing the Eiffel Tower or taking a selfie with Mona Lisa, I certainly won’t forget the moments that actually made the weekend special.