Tonight I had the most glorious meal I have had in … ever, really. Probably. Close to, at least.
Yes, I went to Disneyland on Friday, and the climbed the Eiffel Tower Saturday.
I rode a bicycle down along the Seine River and under the Arc du Triumph, and took a selfie in front of some legit Van Gogh (granted, I didn’t fight the crowds too hard for a close shot – people get vicious trying to look at some old paint on cavas hey!).
I had two and a half days in Paris and jammed in a lot. I ate snails again (better than the street-side boiled ones in Morocco, but not by much), found a cute little American church to go to, walked through the streets at midnight to find cathedrals lit up brilliantly and the Eiffel Tower in all its glory. I conquered the Metro system almost instantly, and had fun picking out postcards (keep an eye out Mum and Dad!).
But ahh, I’ve got to say, my dinner tonight pretty much took the cake. And by took the cake, I mean they gave me cake. Magnificent warm chocolate lava cake. Cake straight from Heaven.
I have loved exploring Paris with Iley and Glen. It’s been such a crazy unbelievable treat to get to experience so many wonderful things with people from home. Moments shared are almost always moments made all the more special, and we’ve made a few already. Here’s to a bucket load more as we set off to cross a country together!
Being the pretty independant, very capable, and free-spirited woman that I am, I have found a struggle in the absence of solitude. I’m used to travelling on my own terms; making my own decisions, having space to recharge my social batteries and enjoy time alone (or with Jesus).
Tonight I was badly craving some alone time with just me, God, and my journal over a meal.
After checking in with the others that I would go dinner solo, a little ritzy tucked away Italian place caught my eye. I walked up and the waiter greeted me with such genuine joy and warmth that I was sold, regardless of pricing.
Honestly, I felt like royalty. Even in my hiking boots, with sweaty hair sticking out from under my hat, backpack in tow and my crumpled dress, they made me feel like a queen.
I shouldn’t rave too much because I know it gets tedious and I already write wnough to make Ms. Burns proud (high school English teacher), but the meal was exquisite. The owner of the restaurant came and introduced himself, and made sure I felt welcome. He popped a brand new bottle of champagne – real champagne! – just to pour me a glass, and gave me the cork with its gold wrapping still attached as a memento. Real French champagne can only be described as gold feathers melting on your tongue. People aren’t exaggerating when they say how good it is. It’s so good! The bruschetta was the best I have ever had, and handmade fettuccine outstanding.
Both the head waiter and owner did a superb job of fussing over me to make sure I enjoyed everything and was happy, as well as giving me alone time to enjoy it all. At one point, Franco (the owner) brought me over his business card to make sure I stuck it in my journal.
And then he told the chef to bring me coffee and that warm lava cake – it was seriously divine.
That little Italian restaurant was the highlight of my time in Paris. Thank you Lord for unexpected surprises!
But yeah, the Eiffel tower and Van Gogh were cool too 😉
Now we’re on a 10hr bus to Biarritz, in southern France, from where we’ll catch another train to Saint Jean Pied de Port to rest up, send those postcards, tick ‘eating French crepes in France’ off the list, and start El Camino tomorrow.
Wish my feet luck.