A Parisian Diary Page

Late into the night, my flight touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport. En route to the Grand Hotel La Fayette in the heart of the 9th Arrondissement, Paris began to weave its magic around me.
The cool night air played with my curls as I gazed out of the taxi window, the city lights blurring into a tapestry of dreams. In a cozy room that awaited me, nestled within the vibrant pulse of the city, I found a sanctuary where I could rest and recharge. Traveling solo has always been my mantra, allowing the city’s spirit to guide me rather than following a mapped-out plan. It’s the unscripted moments that truly capture the essence of a place, and I was ready to embrace whatever Paris had in store.

As the morning sun kissed the Parisian skyline, I ventured out, leaving behind the comforts of the Grand Hotel La Fayette. The city was stirring to life, and I was eager to join its rhythm. The air was a canvas of sensations, the warmth of the sun’s rays intertwining with the cool whispers of spring. I bypassed the hotel’s breakfast, yearning instead for the familiar embrace of my favorite bakery in Montmartre. There, nestled between the timeless facades, was the little haven of pastries that knew my tastes better than I did myself. The scent of baking bread was a siren call, and I surrendered to the allure of a buttery croissant, its flaky layers a testament to the artisan’s craft.

With no itinerary to bind me, I let the city’s pulse guide my steps. The streets of Montmartre were like arteries, each turn pumping new life into my day. Artists dotted the sidewalks, their easels capturing the essence of the moment, a moment I was now a part of. The day unfolded with serendipitous encounters.
A visit to La bourse de commerce - Fondation Pinault revealed the juxtaposition of contemporary art against the backdrop of historic grandeur. It was a dance of time and creativity, each step a bold stroke on the canvas of the city.
A detour took me to E. Dehillerin, the culinary shop where legends like Julia Child found their tools. It was a treasure trove of gastronomic potential, each item promising adventures yet to be cooked up.

Lunch was an impromptu affair at Le Baltard. The restaurant, a stone’s throw from the bustling La bourse de commerce, offered a reprieve from the day’s wanderings. The meal was a symphony of flavors, each course a note played to perfection, harmonizing with the city’s own melody.

With the day’s journey coming to a close, I made my way back through the city’s vibrant streets, the anticipation of departure bittersweet. The city had embraced me with open arms, and as I prepared to (unfortunately) leave at 5 PM, I carried with me the memories of a day spent in the heart of Paris—a 24-hour chapter etched into my story, a narrative that would linger long after my departure, as always the City of Light is magically able to do.

Yours,
​Giuseppe