paris

For my three nights in Paris, I stayed in an apartment on the Champs-Élysées, with a window that had a perfectly framed view of the Eiffel Tower—for free. I was fortunate enough to get to crash on the couch of my friend Gabby from high school, who’s currently doing a year at the American University of Paris.

On our first night, we were introduced to an authentic French dining experience by a Parisien friend we’d met in Florence. As we waited in line, Vivi recounted the history and concept of bouillon restaurants. Originating in the late 1800s, these bouillons were designed to serve full-course, quality meals at an affordable price, which was possible through its formulaic, chain-like model. We visited one location of a well-known chain, Bouillon Chartier, located in a massive historical building, with countless waiters running up and down sets of stairs and weaving through hundreds of tables.

Waiting tables at a bouillon was a remarkable skill to observe. Waiters hardly carry notepads, opting to write down a table’s order on the disposable tablecloth, committing it to memory, and returning with the dishes in a matter of minutes. The bill is calculated on the tablecloth as well. As riveting as I found the whole experience, the food itself was a different story—especially as a vegetarian. I heard the escargots were good, though.

Vivi had no shortage of recommendations that we tried desperately to fit into our limited days, but my favorite by far was 59 Rue de Rivoli. This 6-floor building is a residency and exhibition space for 30 artists, some permanent and some cycling through, with free entry to the public.

Every surface of the interior is covered in paintings, stickers, and graffiti so that it feels like you’re in one big, living piece of artwork. You get to observe not only the dynamic nature of the immersive exhibitions as you walk from room to room—exchanging a few words with the artist or seeing them at work—but something far more personal. You might glimpse their coffee mug, a cramped kitchenette, a coat draped on their chair, and you see so much more into their life and work than a small plaque at a museum could tell you.

The experience seems even more remarkable in comparison to my very rainy and rushed encounter with the Louvre. Since Katarina and Philip had already visited a few years ago, I was to explore on my own. I bought my ticket in advance, but not far enough in advance, because I was left with a 4:30 pm slot and the museum closes at 6 pm. I knew I’d only have enough time to explore one floor of one wing, so I made a beeline for the most famous one, which housed:

• the Mona Lisa (already overrated, but I had to see it to see it),

• The Death of Marat (used on the cover of one of my favorite albums, Deathconsiousness, but turned out to be a replica, with the original housed in Brussels),

• and Liberty Leading the People (currently undergoing reservation, so was not available to visitors).

Despite these small disappointments compounding with the still dampness of my clothing from waiting in the rain for so long, there’s no denying the Louvre possesses some of the most stunning artwork I’ve seen, present in the very architecture of the building as well.

59 Rue de Rivoli and the Louvre can’t be weighed on the same scale, but as far as experiencing art goes, I’ve found independent and less polished institutions like 59 Rivoli infinitely more rewarding.

a note on fulfilling fifth-grade dreams

Angelina was the subject of one of my French class projects in fifth grade, a baroque-style cafe with overpriced pastries and supposedly the best hot chocolate in the world. After standing in yet another line, that’s what I ordered, along with their Mont-Blanc pastry which had its own slide on my presentation. The hot chocolate was incredible. The Mont-Blanc, to the utter dismay of my fifth-grade heart, was terribly dry and too sweet. The backpacker in me cried at the bill for these two items. Sometimes we preserve trivial dreams for so long that they no longer align with who we are anymore. My childhood self isn’t a different person I have to please!

more photos!