Source: Christmas in Paris – New Year in Paris – Paris Tourist Office

Looking for a new tradition? Go to Paris for Christmas or to ring in the new year! The city dressed up for the holidays will take your breath away — if you go to Paris during Christmas time, you might think the city got their nickname “The City of Light” from this time of year. (Actually, it was probably because they were the first European city to use gas lamps outside.) The entire city is bathed in Christmas lights, from storefronts and windows to trees and landscapes. As always, there is plenty to do, including visiting Christmas markets and seasonal ice rinks.

I have given details below of several of my favorite things to do in Paris this time of year. But first, here are 12 pictures of holidays past to see for yourself: Paris during the holidays is a must-do. Even if it’s just once in your lifetime.

Here are 3 of my favorite activities to do in Paris during the holidays:

“Reconnect” with loved ones on the ice; just be sure to wear gloves.

1. Go ice skating at one of the temporary ice skating rinks, such as: inside the Grand Palais (avenue Winston Churchill, from 14 December 2016 – 2 January 2017), or outside on the Eiffel Tower (5 avenue Anatole, from 15 December 2016 – 19 February 2017). Ice skating isn’t just for kids: it can be a good way to “reconnect” with the one you love, especially if one or both of you have a hard time staying upright on the ice. Doesn’t that sound like fun for the whole family? Just be sure to wear gloves as protection from the cold and others’ skates in case you fall. Or is that when you fall?

Christmas markets are a great place to eat and people-watch.

2. Walk and admire, eat, drink, and buy gifts at Christmas markets. There are Christmas markets all over Paris, but probably the largest is on the Champs-Elysees. The highlights of my visits to this market in 2014 were talking to a Moscovite about his black lacquer boxes he had for sale and eating a crepe with Grand Marnier. (Okay, I might have had two.) I also got a serving of German-made goulash that was so large I had leftovers for 2 more meals. Since you’re in France, you can also purchase hot and cold liquor drinks to warm your bones.

Celebrating New Year’s on the Champs-Elysees? Hope you like crowds!

3. Ring in the new year on the Champs-Elysees (31 December 2016). Could there be anything more romantic than celebrating New Year’s Eve with the one(s) you love under the stars in Paris? I doubt it.

Salut !

 Fouquet’s Paris and Galeries Lafayette by Elsa L. Fridl. All other images from Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Featured image, Galeries Lafayette by Brett. The Eiffel Tower by C. A Paris Street by Dirk Haun. Au Printemps by Brett. Vendome Place by PhOtOnQuAnTIQuE. Notre Dame by Linus Mak. A Christmas Decoration by Jean-Yves Romanetti. The Champs-Elysees by Daxis. A Tree with Lights (“Christmas in Paris”) by John Stanforth. Decorations at Notre Dame (“Notre Dame dans la Boule”) by Luca Vanzella. Paris Opera House by Chris Chabot. Ice Skating on the Eiffel Tower by C. Christmas Market by Linus Mak. Celebrating New Year’s by Falcon Photography.

I said my good-byes and was on my way to the airport before The City of Light was awake.

Tuesday. Travel day to go back to Washington, D.C. I got up at 3:00 A.M. to make sure I was ready before the shuttle came to pick me up at 4:45 A.M. I said my good-byes and grabbed a cup of cappuccino from the machine before I left. The van driver was nice enough to hold my cup for me while I climbed inside.

We had to pick up a few people before going to Charles de Gaulle Airport. I struck up a conversation with a couple from the States seated in front of me; later, I spoke with a young woman who lives in the E.U. and I felt a twinge of jealousy: she spoke of how easy it is for her to travel because she lives in the E.U., and I wished I could be her.

We arrived at the airport and I alighted. I started to make my way to the gate, but stopped first to tell an American something she was asking of her friend, loudly. I don’t even remember what it was, I was so tired as I walked away — I might have been awake, but I was running on adrenaline. Still, I found some coffee (people in Europe say they “have a coffee,” which I’ll miss) and sat down to write a note to French President Francois Hollande on my French stationery that I had bought in a shop near the Eiffel Tower. I told him how much I love his country and how much I’d like to teach English there. The stamp didn’t want to stick to the envelope: good thing I’m always prepared with transparent tape, though it wouldn’t surprise me if it made an awful impression on him or his staff. I located the mailbox downstairs and headed to my gate.

I’m leavin’ on a jet plane…don’t know when I’ll be back again.

I sat patiently waiting for the flight attendants of Turkish Airlines to tell us it was time to board. The flight took off without a hitch. We were served a meal shortly after take off. I struck up a conversation with a French woman who seemed to turn up her nose at me as a(n) (fill in the blank) American. (I didn’t know what she thought of me, but I gathered it wasn’t good.) That’s okay, she seemed to me a bit stiff. Not sure how else to describe it.

Our stop in Istanbul was uneventful. We got back on board to go to Dulles, and I curled up for the long flight. The plane was about half empty so everyone had a lot more room to spread out and sleep, or whatever. I spoke with a couple with a young child about taking more seats, and they said they had their eye on a row right after take-off. The food, as before, was great. I still love French food the best, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy another country’s food.

When we landed in Dulles I found myself hungry again. I tried to find something to eat but my taste buds were on full revolt: they didn’t want to come back to American food. It’s like they were saying, “We want more French food. Now.” Can’t help you there, taste buds. You’ll have to settle for what I can find to eat in the States. In the end, I bought a muffin from Starbuck’s that wasn’t very satisfying – but it was something.

I took the new $5.00 shuttle from Dulles Airport to the Silver Line. Not a bad way to travel, but I’ll bet it’s hurting cab and shuttle businesses. From Metro Center I took a cab to D.C. Lofty Hostel in Washington, D.C., and settled in my room. I’m not sure how long I will be staying, since I have to find a place to live — and accept the fact I’m in Washington for the foreseeable future.

Salut !

All images by Can Stock Photo. “I’m leavin’ on a jet plane…don’t know when I’ll be back again,” from the song, “I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane,” by John Denver, recorded by Peter, Paul & Mary.

Walking around Plug-Inn Hostel with wild hair, I tried to achieve at least this much sophistication…

Wednesday. I walked around the hostel all day with wild hair. I think I scared the guy at the desk when I walked out of my room looking like Phyllis Diller (think: Miley Cyrus on steroids.) He recovered, however.

I spent all day writing a resume and typing it. It’s tough to do from memory. Naturally, my Hotmail account is still frozen or I could easily print a resume from my Sent folder. Talk about circumstances conspiring to keep me from applying for positions in Paris.

…when I probably only achieved this much.

Someone also stole my dinner from the fridge, drank my lemon drink (and was considerate enough to leave the empty bottle in the trash so I would see it), and stole my water bottle. I don’t blame anyone on Plug-Inn staff or any of the real guests, but rather one of the people who always seem to be around me, texting away, while I am in a common area in the hostel. The staff is way too nice to do anything like this, and I don’t believe world travelers in general do this – especially since the person’s actions seem aimed at me. Since they left the lemon drink bottle in the trash for me to see, how can I not take it personally? Most thieves don’t want to leave a trace of what they’ve done: this one did.

I drank a few cappuccinos, talked with staff and travelers, and later read for a bit. I’m bummed because I can’t remember all of the details that make my resume worth reading.

Salut !

Images by Can Stock Photo.

Tuesday. 

I walked around and had to double back; the view of the internet place was obstructed by Christmas kiosks; I had to peer around the kiosks to find it.

You might have to look a little harder for shops and the like during Christmas time. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

It was a very small place, and people from all age groups were there using computers. The guy in charge told me which computer to use, since most of them were in French. I brought up my resume from my USB stick – I was a little amazed the Fancy Boy Idiots hadn’t erased it – but then the screen froze when I tried to save it after making a small change before I printed it. The guy in charge came over and tried to help me; as soon as he cleared the screen freeze, my resume was gone. He looked for it on my USB stick, in the computer’s trash, on the hard drive….it simply disappeared. If I’m not mistaken, it is possible to infect a document with a virus or a worm (I’m not exactly sure what a worm is) that makes the document disappear upon opening it or trying to save it.

I opened the file containing my resume and–BAM!–it disappeared.

I started to curse under my breath about how much I hate the FBI, and to my utter amazement, people around me smiled and laughed in solidarity: one French woman spoke for all of them, “We don’t have a high opinion of the FBI.” I was stunned, yet I couldn’t help smiling. The French people don’t like the FBI, either: I never would have guessed. One woman gave me her name and phone number and told me I could call her if I thought she could help me. Still, I don’t know that I’ll be able to post resume on leboncoin.fr. to apply for English teaching jobs. Just what the Fancy Boy Idiots wanted.

The hostel’s cappuccino may not be as frothy as this, but as a traveler, I’ve learned to be thankful for what is available.

I went back to Plug-Inn, had a cappuccino (or three!), and worked on recreating my resume. (My Hotmail account is conveniently frozen, or I would be able to print a resume from it.) When I exclaimed how much I love the cappuccino from the machine, the manager told me she wouldn’t drink it, and proceeded to show me a picture of the type of cappuccino she is used to (in Italy, I believe). I smiled in understanding. Then I told her that I’ve learned to enjoy what I have at that moment: Like, if I go camping and have instant coffee, I don’t usually have instant coffee at home, but while camping, outside in the great outdoors, it’s all I have, and I can appreciate that. After our discussion on the fine points of caffeinated drinks, the manager told me she would help me with the application process on leboncoin.fr to apply for English teaching jobs once I get my resume squared away. She is so sweet. She is very business-minded, and I understand why she wants to keep the boundaries very clear between guests and management. Still….her heart, like that of everyone else who works at Plug-Inn Hostel, shows.

Salut !

Image of rainy day in Paris by Can Stock Photo. Image of woman angry with computer by Can Stock Photo. Image of Paris metro at Christmas by David Sifry, Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Image of Vancouver cappuccino by Gord McKenna, Flickr, CCBY 2.0.

A rainy day in Paris is better than a sunny day anywhere else.

Friday. I feel awful. My head is stuffed. My eyes are watering like crazy. I have to stay in I feel so sick. Thank goodness the hostel has a great coffee machine. Even though I enjoy a good cup of cappuccino, the machine’s cappuccino is pretty good, especially for 1 euro. As I’ve said, a bad day in Paris beats a good day anywhere else, any time.

Later. As sick as I was, I managed to go to Gare du Nord to find out how to get to London when I go in December. I seemed to be getting the run around…no one could tell me how to take a ferry to Calais like I did the last time I visited Paris. Finally, I got the information I needed. Then, my debit card wouldn’t work, so I had to pay cash for a 1-way ticket to Calais. Hard to believe that Wells Fargo froze my account! Even after I gave them a travel itinerary before I left the States! And the Wells Fargo representative even told me she could see my travel itinerary in my account online! And she took her own sweet time making me verify each and every transaction, as slow as growing grass.

I don’t take anti-histamines much anymore, but I had no choice today, so I got an anti-histamine from a Pharmacie. I am so glad pharmacists in France are about as knowledgeable as doctors in the U.S. when it comes to medicines. I am wiped out.

Salut !

Image by Can Stock Photo.