“Expectations are the great killers of good travel. I try to leave them at home.”
The words of my friend (and expert traveler) Chris echoed in my head this afternoon as I sat on the plane, waiting to take off.
I’ve daydreamed about the adventures that await me in Paris. Will this trip develop a theme, as my previous sojourns have? Will I make new friends—or will I be content to just reconnect with old ones?
I thought about the places I’d want to visit again this morning, and the ones I’d probably skip. I fantasized about biting into my first crèpe Nutella and sipping my tenth verre du vin. I wondered how many steps I’d manage to take before I (finally … inevitably) stepped in dog poop.
All of those questions will be answered in time. For now, all that matters is this: I’m. In. Paris!
The trip started inauspiciously, with a culinary fiasco the flight attendants called “chicken.” Its gelatinous texture suggested aspic, and it was so generously seasoned that it rendered salt licks obsolete.
But I forgot all about that when we met Chris and his wife Silke for our first glass of the 2011 Beaujolais Nouveau. We shared a bottle at the appropriately named JetLag bar in the 2nd arrondissement. Then, the four of us headed out for dinner in earnest.
I couldn’t resist ordering the escargots. (In case you’re wondering, that’s French for “snails.” No, they’re not one bit slimy. Just incredibly delicious!)
And I couldn’t resist snapping a photo in the world’s most graffiti-covered bathroom.
Disappointed in my photos?
I’m not. I came here with no expectations. Maybe I’ll shoot some more tomorrow. Maybe I won’t. Either way, I’ll have a great time.
Thanks for tagging along — and please stay tuned. There’s much, much more to come.