10 Ways To Bring Paris Home

An antique French bed.

Most people would like to bring back a bit of Paris with them.

Travelers go to Paris for many reasons, and most would like to “bring Paris home” with them. Here are 10 ways to do just that and which don’t take up much room in your baggage.

1. Buy a new scent before your trip or while in Paris. Your sense of smell is said to be the most powerful memory-inducer of all of your senses. By purchasing a new fragrance and using it in Paris, every time you smell it you will remember cherished memories of your trip.

Chanel No. 5.

Chanel No. 5, one of the most classic French fragrances.

Before I went to Paris in 1994, I purchased scented sheets by 4711 – similar to Wet Ones, but with fragrance – to help me feel fresh. Now, every time I smell 4711, I remember being at the Eiffel Tower when a young Frenchman struck up a conversation with me, during which he asked me if I have a “bebe.” (I laughed because I didn’t understand him at first. Non!) Naturally, I would recommend a fragrance from a French design house, such as Christian Dior, Chanel, Cacharel or Guerlain.

Take this idea one step further by visiting Perfumerie Fragonard near the Opera Metro (9th arrondissement): You’ll discover how perfume is made and can make a purchase while there.

Flower market beside La Madeleine.

Flower markets like this one beside La Madeleine are found all over Paris.

2. Buy a flower or a bunch upon your arrival in Paris to keep in your hotel room. Flower merchants are everywhere in Paris. Purchase flowers to keep in a humble cup or glass in your hotel room. Upon departure, slip them in a plastic bag before packing them. Once home, every time you see those particular flowers you’ll think of Paris, and you can keep the dried flowers from your trip in a special place. (NOTE: Check with your country’s Customs Regulations to see if there are restrictions on bringing home cut flowers. If you are a U.S. citizen coming back to the States and your cut flowers have berries attached, you will need a permit, PPQ Form 587, Application for Permit to Import Plants or Plant Products, in order to clear U.S. Customs. Click here for more information.)

I tried Pinot Noir in Paris and loved it.

I tried Pinot Noir in Paris and loved it.

3. Try a new wine or drink – alcoholic or non- — while in Paris. I don’t drink much alcohol, though I do like wine. I tried Pinot Noir during my last trip to Paris and found I loved it. It is now my go-to wine.

Food doesn't have to be elaborately made to be memorable.

Food doesn’t have to be elaborately made to be memorable.

4. Remember something you ate in Paris that will spark a particularly fond memory of your trip and make it at home. Food doesn’t have to be elaborately made to spark fond memories. While I was in Paris for my latest trip, I made baguette sandwiches with greens, a few vegetables and Maille dressing (the hostel provided the baguette; I bought everything else and kept it in the refrigerator). Whether this concoction is actually French is of no consequence: the sandwich still sparks fond memories of me exploring Paris.

Do something out of your comfort zone to make your trip memorable...anyone for singing in the rain?

Do something out of your comfort zone to make your trip memorable….anyone for singing in the rain?

5. Do something out of your comfort zone. After I saw “Cats” in Washington, D.C., I was so over-joyed by the music I climbed onto a bench and belted out a few bars of “Memory.” Sure, I was no Susan Boyle, and my date thought I was a little crazy, but we both laughed about it in fun. While I think of Paris as the capital of sophistication as well as France, that doesn’t mean you can’t do something out of your comfort zone. You will always laugh about it later.

Souvenir shop in Montmartre.

Which souvenirs do you purchase with so many to choose from?

6. Purchase something small in Paris that you will use or look at every day. My top three are a keychain, a refrigerator magnet, and a mug, because I see or use all three every day. Also, I am a collector of mugs, and haven’t broken a mug on the trip home yet. Sometimes looking at the array of souvenirs on tables can be daunting to the eye; that’s why it helps to know what you are looking for.

7. See a French music performer or remember music you heard

Nadiya, a French singer, performs in concert at La Cigale.

Nadiya, a French singer, performs in concert at La Cigale.

on your trip. Many restaurants in Paris play background music; if a song strikes your fancy, ask a waiter who performs it, and buy their CD in Paris or at home. There are also many live music venues, such as Olympia Bruno Coquatrix (in the 9th arrondissement). See www.parisvoice.com/music for more venues.  Le Basilic in Montmartre played a combination of French music and Barbra Streisand, though I was already in culinary heaven from their food – the music was just an added bonus.

Pathe is a French film production and distribution company that owns many cinema chains in Europe though mainly in France.

Pathe is a French film production and distribution company that owns many cinema chains in Europe though mainly in France.

8. See a movie while in Paris. Parisian theatres often offer films in French and in English: take your pick. (Just ask at the ticket counter.) I saw The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part I (in English), during my last trip to Paris. I didn’t love the movie, but now when I think of it, I am reminded of finding my way in the theatre, which had a different feel from the theatres at home.

Riverside Market, Paris.

Riverside Market, Paris. Markets like this one are all over Paris.

9. Purchase a painting or poster and send it home (if need be). While on my first two trips to Paris, I bought lithographs of Paris landmarks and other frame-able artwork, all of which I could fit in my suitcases without much trouble. Artwork is generally something you keep forever, unless circumstances otherwise intervene. Every time you look at it, you will be reminded of your trip.

10. Take a photo of your family in front of an iconic landmark. This might seem an obvious choice, so consider the reason I mention it: Every time you think of or mention that landmark, you will remember the fond memories you made on your trip.Family at Eiffel Tower_Flickr_7460258340_843711f17f_z

 

Salut!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Image of Pink French Bed, “1 Top Ten Bedroom Ideas” by John Dake, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. “Chanel N5” by Wesley Vieria Fonseca, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. “Flower Market Beside La Madeleine,” by Tom Flemming, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. “Wine I,” by Kevin Galens, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. “Baguette,” by Pearl Pirie, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. “Singing in the Rain,” by Skip, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. “Nadiya – La Cigale – 2009,” by Oouinouin, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Image of Pathe logo, “Samen naar Pathe,” by Roel Wijnants, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. “Riverside Market, Paris” by Faungg’s Photos, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Image of family at Eiffel Tower, “Mr. Durgesh Pandit and Family at Eiffel,” by ClubMTravel Admin, courtesy of Flickr, CCBY 2.0. Pathe information cited from Wikipedia, “Pathe,” CCBY 2.0.

Paris Trip Day 29

I said my good-byes and was on my way to the airport before Paris was awake.

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 “had 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’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.

 

“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.

Paris Trip Day 28

Moulin Rouge, where Henri Toulouse-Latrec found inspiration for his art.

Moulin Rouge, where Henri Toulouse-Lautrec found inspiration for his art.

Monday. My last day in Paris. I can’t believe a month has gone by already. I’m trying to savor every moment today. I’m pretty organized – I’ve reorganized my stuff enough times, I should be – so I went to buy that cute mug I saw in a shop nearby (with its own spoon!) and bought a few other small souvenirs. A guy who has a kiosk selling souvenirs at Blanche Metro had gone to his home country and came back, so I got to say good-bye to him. He asked me when I would be returning: I told him I didn’t know, but that my heart will always be here. He smiled in recognition.

I went to Champs-Elysees one last time, and took in the ambiance as much as I could. I don’t want to leave. I belong here. I wandered around taking pictures until I knew I couldn’t put it off any more. I walked to the Champs-Elysees Metro and took it for the last time to Blanche Metro. After I got off, I took some pictures of Moulin Rouge and met some travelers: one of them asked me if I wanted my picture taken. Sure! Then I walked up the Montmartre hill to Le Basilic and had dinner there again – another perfect French meal — and took a few pictures, saying my good-byes. Then I went back to Plug-Inn Hostel. I am thankful for my time here, and I’ve made a lot of connections with people, some of which I’ve forgotten to write about in my journal: my long-term memory is so much better than my short-term, that sometimes I remember things better 6 months to a year later than I did right after an experience. I still have more to say about my trip. Well, that’s something. Maybe I can even blog about it.

 

Salut.

Paris Trip Day 27

Sunday. A lot of attractions are free today. Unfortunately, it’s cold and rainy…the type of cold that seeps into your bones. I took the Metro to Champs-Elysees, mostly to go to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. I took pictures all around it and while I was on the top level. I happened to get there just before a crowd came (which I saw on my way out). The lift was broken, so I had to walk up a lot of stairs in a very winding staircase – I thought I heard someone say there are 222 steps to get to the top – but hostel staff told me there are 284. While the width of the staircase was small, there were occasional landings where you can step aside and rest while allowing others to pass; as someone who studied design, I found that design detail impressive. Sometimes it has seemed to me that designers and architects forget much-needed details, like having spaces for people to catch their breath on staircases while not holding up people behind them. There were exhibits in the Arc de Triomphe on military uniforms and aspects of the monument’s design. There was also a shop for souvenirs. I people-watched for a bit: I love seeing the joy on people’s faces as they investigate Parisian sights.

After I took plenty of pictures (and had a couple taken of me), I was so cold I had to leave. I didn’t want to. I went to the McDonald’s on the Champs-Elysees to use the restroom, and took some more pictures until my fingers were too frozen to handle the camera. It might have been the coldest day of the trip. Funny enough, I was feeling so frozen, I decided to take a couple of pictures of Queen Elsa.

I headed back to the hostel and grabbed a Grand Marnier crepe on my way. It was hard to eat with frozen fingers, but I managed.

Queen Elsa on the Champs-Elysees. It was so cold, I'm sure she felt right at home.

Queen Elsa on the Champs-Elysees. It was so cold, I’m sure she felt right at home.

Salut.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Information on the Arc de Triomphe taken from Wikipedia article, “Arc de Triomphe,” retrieved July 26, 2015.

Paris Trip Day 26

I ached all over from my quick trip to London, but the pain was worth it.

I ached all over from my quick trip to London, but the pain was worth it.

Saturday. Since I got back to Plug-Inn Hostel very early (around 7:00 A.M.) from London, I went to bed after breakfast. I had to stay in bed most of the day: my feet were killing me, my back and neck were sore from being scrunched up in the coach (bus), and I simply felt achy all over. I completed the picture by walking around the hostel (what little I did) with wild hair again. I talked with staff and others about my experiences in London and drank oodles of cappuccino from the machine. Hostel staff told me the weather in Paris changed for the worse just after I left.

I also finished reading Elvis: My Best Man, and thought about what I want to do for the rest of my time here, especially tomorrow, since many attractions are free (it’s the first Sunday of the month). It’s been cold and rainy, and it looks like more of the same tomorrow.

Still, a bad weather day in Paris beats a good weather day anywhere else, hands down. It might be raining outside, but in my heart there’s sunshine: that’s what Paris does for me.

 

Salut !

Paris Trip Day 25

European cities at night via NASA satellite. It is an easy "day trip" (or night) to London from Paris.

European cities at night via satellite. It is an easy “day trip” (or night!) to London from Paris.

Friday. I woke up feeling fairly rested though my eyes were bloodshot: there’s probably mold in the hotel.

I showered, shampooed and got dressed. Then I set out for my free breakfast in the hotel. There were at least 20 people in the dining room, though few looked like they had taken a shower already. The place felt rather seedy, especially when I saw lecherous eyes look my way. I sat down at a table that wobbled so I moved to another. One of the women working came into the dining room from the kitchen and basically asked me if I was crazy for sitting at a table for three when I was alone: “Sit somewhere else,” she told me, eyes blazing. Nothing like making paying customers want to come back! Breakfast consisted of white bread toast, butter and jam, weak coffee or tea, cheap cornflakes. It wasn’t very satisfying or particularly nutritious, but it was something to eat until I could get a piece of fruit. I tried to enjoy my breakfast at the wobbly table as I thought about the day ahead.

I went back to my room and wrote out two placards (which I had packed, rolled up, in my new French suitcase) to take with me to Buckingham Palace. After finishing them, I finished packing and did a sweep of the room to make sure I didn’t forget anything; then I walked down the 8 flights of stairs. I asked the manager if I could leave my luggage in the lobby while I was out. He said no problem, which was nice of him. I felt like my bags would be safe. Of course, having locks on my important stuff helped with my piece of mind.

I did a little sightseeing on my way to Buckingham Palace…..

 

Then I held my breath and showed up at the Palace. I held up one of my signs, which essentially told Queen Elizabeth II to leave me and my family alone. Some young woman (from Ireland?) came over and asked if she could take a picture of me and my sign: “Of course,” was my response. I had been there for about 30 minutes or so when a Palace police officer came over and started asking me questions. I told him that in the States, protesting is a right, and besides, I’ve seen other people protesting at the Palace. He basically told me that if the Queen doesn’t want people protesting right outside her residence, she was within her rights to shoo them away. Then he told me I was free to protest outside the gold and black gate, yet he also continued to try to ask me questions, like where was I staying. I said, “You just said I’m free to leave and that I can protest outside the gate, am I right?” He said that was correct. “Good, I’m leaving now,” I said, and walked away without looking back. I wasn’t trying to cause an international incident: I just wanted to stand up for my family name.

I stood at the corner he directed me to for about an hour. After I felt I had made my point, I left. It was drizzling. I went to St. James’s Park and took some pictures. Then I went to Inn the Park restaurant and warmed up, having some coffee and a dessert. It felt like a modern-day log cabin with cool lighting (and stiff seats). After I left, I threw out my placards in the trash bin near the restaurant. I felt like I had made my point. After seeing Palace police mill about as soon as I showed up, I couldn’t wait to get back to France, where I belong.

I went back to the hotel to retrieve my luggage, and thanked the management of The Continental Hotel for their service. Their hotel may not be the best, but they treated me okay, so all in all it wasn’t a horrible experience to stay at their hotel. I hope they….how shall I say?….do a little redecorating.

I made my way to the bus station with a light rain falling. It was absolutely freezing in the bus station. People who worked there told me they had to leave the doors open (to the buses), even though no one was boarding. I went to wait in another part of the station. I struck up a conversation with an English woman who seemed nice enough, but she started asking me questions that were none of her business, like whether I owned the house I was living in, how could I afford to take this trip, and do I have money to get home. I wanted to tell her to bugger off. I wondered who was more tactless: the Englishman who was determined to get on The Tube sooner than me, and basically pushed me out of the way, or this woman, who wouldn’t know what boundaries are if they bit her on the nose? Ahh, travelling. You meet so many kinds.

I decided to que up in line since it was nearing boarding time (finally!). A guy behind me spoke to me, and he came to understand I had only been in London for 24 hours. He asked me which country I liked better: I told him, hands down, nothing beats France. I was hoping to sit next to him just to know I would be sitting next to someone friendly, but we boarded too late to be seated next to one another. I ended up sitting behind a couple who seemed to enjoy the idea they were giving me and others a show with their French kissing. They did it so much I felt like a voyeur. I completely get that many people aren’t hung up on showing a little Public Display of Affection, but it can get to a point where you want to say, “Get a room, already!” Some people behind me where shaking their heads and smiling: they knew what I was thinking.

We arrived at the ferry and were told to remember where we had parked. (I had to laugh: they made it sound like we were parked in a mall.) The inside of the ferry was nicely appointed, with leather and other types of seating, and places to buy something to eat and drink, though I was much too tired to do either. The young people (hehhehhehheh) were all so excited, many of them drank and ate and whooped it up. No thanks. Like many others, I curled up on a sofa for the trip, which was over before I knew it. I couldn’t believe how trashed the ferry as we were exiting: it was worse than any New Year’s Eve party I had ever been to. I felt groggy when I first got up but then adrenaline kicked in: I couldn’t find my bus. Someone seemed to know which one I was looking for and helped me find my way to it.

I was much relieved when I started to see signs in French again while on the bus back to Paris from London.

I was much relieved when I started to see signs in French again while on the bus back to Paris.

As the bus drove into Paris I and I saw signs in French again, I was so relieved. Nothing beats France. I felt like I had been in enemy territory in London and now I’m back “home.” The bus let us off at a bus station that was a bit of a walk to a Metro station, but I couldn’t care a less. I was SO GLAD to be back in Paris. I got back to the hostel in no time. I ate my delicious French breakfast and went to bed, happy that I had made my point.

Salut.