This is part of my ongoing Summer Abroad series. You can find the first parts about Germany and Rome, here and here!

There is magic in finding a city you love.There is rarity and spark in stepping off a flight and knowing you have found a second home: I did this twice during my month in Europe. Having flown out of Rome, I entered Paris at a rather late 9pm, which stressed me out severely until I actually reached Paris. There is an energy that settles in this country, for all its rush, that reminds you to slow down. Breathe. Relax.

I watched the sun set over the silhouette of a stunning city. I rode a taxi to my tiny hotel on Reget, and watched traffic get held up as a group of twenty skaters and cyclists flew out into the streets, whooping and cheering and chatting up my driver.

I love Paris. I only spent four days in Paris, and I love Paris.

Maybe it’s in my blood: my family came from France in the 1830’s and I grew up knowing more swear words in French than English. I coasted through most parts of Paris, able to read street signs and order food without looking dumb for the first time in three weeks. During most of Eurotrip before that, I had been referred to as “mademoiselle” and assumed French by my facial features; this continued in Paris, and I happily embraced it.

My days in Paris were spent wandering the Louvre; I toured for 3 hours and stood in front of art I had never imagined seeing in real life. I had lunch on the same balconies Napoleon walked. I wandered the gardens and laid out in the grass with the locals, enjoying the fresh air and summer sun. I ventured around to Opera and toured the Garnier, more grand and beautiful than Phantom of The Opera can ever tell you. I bought real French pastries every morning for breakfast, and nothing has compared to them since. I visited Galleries Lafayette and tried not gawk at prices: I bought my favorite pen there despite better judgment. I revered under the stained-glass windows of Notre Dame. I climbed the Eiffel Tower and watched Paris sprawl before me. I awed, and breathed, and lived. There weren’t enough pictures in the world to capture the beauty of the city or its energy.

While I saw and did everything I could while in Paris, my favorite part by far (and one of my favorite parts of traveling to Europe in general) was my visit to Shakespeare and Company. There are whole essays I could write about the long history and culture surrounding the world-famous bookstore, but I do suggest anyone who loves writing or literature to make a trip once in their lifetime. Hang around too. Shop, browse their library, read the travelers’ notes that decorate their walls, write, drink a cup of tea. There is a mood about Shakespeare and Company that enraptures you; a better connection to the writing world and a reminder that humanity is full of good. I think pieces of my heart stayed in that building.

I also noted the relationship between the tourists and locals for the first time on my trip. There is an old rumor that Parisians are rude and snooty, but a few days in the city told a different story, where most Parisians were nothing but kind and helpful when approached politely. Other touring Americans, on the other hand- had some of the worst manners that I had seen in any country. Selfies with the Mona Lisa and demanding impatience in lines to bigger attractions. I was once approached for directions by an American woman on the metro; she simply stormed away when I addressed her in French first. While I do realize the excitement of being on vacation, this is a reminder to all that when traveling, you are still a guest in someone else’s country. Paris is not Disney World (even if it has a park), and a little respect can go a long way.

But not all tourist experiences were bad ones. My last day was spent in the company of a great tour group that ventured up to the Palace of Versailles, five hours out of the city, in the rich gardens and playground that once held France’s great monarchs. The grounds are otherworldly and forever smell of oranges. My photos were worth more than any touristy trinket the gift shop could offer. I also shared dinner with a fellow traveler for the second time during my trip, dining across from the Eiffel Tower and comparing stories from our travels and homes. I think the most valuable part of traveling alone are the moments we end up sharing with new people, and what we glean from them. We learn a great deal about ourselves during dinners with strangers.

I left Paris full of love, life, and a quickly devoured last box of pastries that I could not bring with me through airport security. It was off to London next, and the last week of my Eurotrip. Wait for me though, Paris; I'll be back!