At this point, it’s a bit of a cliché. Almost intuitively, the inner wannabe cultured know-it-all among us knows that the best way to explore a city is to get lost somewhere, at least that’s what we like to say. I firmly believe that at one point or another, every single person studying abroad has praised the merit of such a concept, despite its essence of contrived humility. But all too often, when the comfort of the sights and the convenience of the tourist traps are an allure too tough to pass over, how do you willingly get lost?
Until this weekend, the only times I’ve gotten lost in Paris weren’t on purpose. Usually, it only happened unintentionally after hazy nights-turned-morning of bar-hopping and havoc-wreaking. Finally, though, I took it upon myself to go somewhere I normally wouldn’t. I don’t think it would be honest to say I got lost, but I sure did make an effort to find the hidden gems of Paris, and I think I did a decent job.
The first part, however, wasn’t all me. Our French teacher, being the adventurous spirit she is, decided to cancel class one day and to instead take the class exploring. Content with not having to butcher a beautiful language for two hours, I happily obliged. We boarded the metro and got off in a part of Paris I’d probably otherwise never visit: The outskirts were different than what I’d known. We walked and walked past beautiful graffiti-covered alleys, suspiciously cheap places to buy food and the occasional drug-dealer. But at the end, just after passing the old abandoned train tracks of Paris, our teacher led us to a park.
And on that park sat one of the most astonishing views of Paris I could hope to see. The beautiful horizon, complemented by blue skies, was seemingly boundless. And unfortunately, no camera (my crappy point-and-shoot especially) could do this view justice. With the spirit of adventure fresh in mind, I decided to try it out a few days later, but under less impressive pretexts.
Some friends and I had purchased tickets for The Social Network (dubbed in French), but had to wait an hour before the movie. In the mood for coffee or something, we wandered down the busy road, assured that it must have something to meet our needs. But with each café we passed that had what we were looking for, our wallets dared let us enter. In a moment of brilliance, one of my friends found an alley, so we decided to take a walk.
And what did we find? Past a few cobblestone steps, we came across the self-proclaimed oldest operating café in Paris, in service for over 200 years. Short on time, we had to bypass it to find a quicker place and that we did. We came a cross an impeccable find in the form of a cupcake and coffee shop with a modest exterior and inviting atmosphere. I stepped in, ordered the day’s special, and promptly received the best cupcake I’ve ever had — hyperbole justified. It was a bite into fluffy, flavorful, strawberry bliss with a free macaroon and coffee that left barely a dent in my pocket full of change.
I wasn’t exactly lost, but I felt a little less pretentious about the whole idea from then on.
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