Destination: Paris | Part Deux

As soon as we landed at the Charles de Gaulle airport, I got the opportunity to present my passport for the very first time. I handed it to the cute guy behind the glass; he rolled my name around in his mouth a few times with that dang French accent that makes my name sound more "Chanel" than "Janelle"; then he looked at me, and said, "Chanel...I want to keep you."

And I giggled like I was 14 and skipped away off to the rental cars because hearing that in French is far less creepy than it is hearing it in English.

In the back of our BMW, my body finally started to feel tired. And I felt the irony of the fact that I couldn't force myself to fall asleep on the plane TO France, but now that I was finally IN France, it was like I relaxed. It was a raging battle of mind vs. body during our drive to the hotel. I wanted to see all the Parisian things I could possibly fit into my view. There was no time to blink, let alone sleep.

Our hotel was a 15-minute drive away; it was too short and far too long all at the same time. My body craved rest but my mind was so stimulated by the architecture alone. Fountains and obelisks pepper the city, some thousands of years old. But they were all very new to me.

1. Waiting for our luggage at Charles de Gaulle airport!
2. Waiting for our rental car in the Paris sun.
3. I'll take the Audi, thankyouverymuch.
4. My French lover for the week - my bed.
5. Our hotel with its amazing staff!
6. Our sweet ride during our stay!

We arrived at our hotel - Renaissance Paris Le Parc Trocadero - where we received a warm Parisian welcome and wedged ourselves (and our huge suitcases) into the small elevator. A lovely suite awaited me...and a bed that eventually proved too inviting to resist. We met downstairs in the beautiful hotel garden to enjoy a little tea in the afternoon (but what felt like the middle of the night) sun. We were so, so happy, but so, so tired, so we agreed to set our alarms, give in to the exhaustion, and then reconvene.

I almost burst when I was told the Eiffel Tower was walking distance away from our hotel. If it hadn't been for the crazy European drivers, I probably would have broke into a run. But there is something about strolling down those Parisian streets, peering into shoppe windows, leaning over to smell the fresh bouquets of flowers, and stepping around the small trios of bistro tables and chairs.

We took in the Trocadero and finally got to see her. For the first time in my life, I got to see her. I was breathing the air around her; the beautiful lady I had surrounded myself with for most of my life but had never actually met was finally standing right in front of me.

And instead of fighting exhaustion, I was now fighting tears. Because dreams-come-true are for Disney, not for silly girls from Idaho...right?

I could've taken 1000 pictures, and they all would've looked the same to anyone who wasn't me. So I just stared at her, looked at all the other tourists around me, and kept wondering when and how this was supposed to feel real. To add further consternation to the already-surreal experience, two models and a photographer showed up and I sarcastically (and silently) said to myself, "Welp. This doesn't help AT ALL."

7. The Trocadero
8. The first time we met!
9. Us in front of the Eiffel Tower!
10. Sidewalk chalk artist.
11. Bread!
12. A toast to our arrival! We're here!
13. Escargot.
14. Scallops.
15. Sole.
16. Raspberry/pistachio macaron w/raspberry sauce.
17. Nutella pizza.
18. The Tower is the most beautiful photo-bomb.
19. In her evening gown.
20. Me. Overjoyed.

Our destination for dinner that first evening was an incredible restaurant called Le Coq (The Rooster). It was also on our way home, so we just walked there, too. It was perfectly in-between our hotel and the Eiffel Tower. We sat at a table outside, trying to absorb as much of the spring sun as we possibly could, listening to the sounds of the street, breathing in fresh baked bread, and toasting our trip with peach and raspberry champagne. (And all the rumors and stereotypes are true - bread and butter are just better in Paris.)

I enjoyed the most amazing escargot I've ever had, followed by scallops, and then my sole fish. I managed to resist the mashed potatoes in the swimming pool of butter. Must have been my vulnerable and emotional state because oh...my...gosh. It was a very good thing, though, because during French dining experiences, the wait staff refills your wine and your bread like they're water. Keep in mind, dining goes on for hours over there.

A table near ours had the most amazing dessert I had ever seen, so I tried to order it by pointing as politely as I could and mumbling "Macaron, s'il vous plait." It was raspberry & pistachio flavored and it changed my life. Ok, maybe not, but I would've let it if it asked. Gilly had a mild freak-out when we discovered that Nutella is around every corner in Paris and comes in pizza form at Le Coq.

Because we were sitting outside, very near the street, the sounds of people and cars and horns were abundant, but quickly became white noise. Except suddenly there was a change in the sound. A very low purr, followed by another low purr, resonated behind us, and then lowered to a stop. We turned around to see a couple sets of butterfly doors opening on a couple of Ferraris that had parked behind the most beautiful Porsche. It was fairly ridiculous. I mean, really. BUT. SO. AWESOME.

Our evening wound down with customary tea as it grew darker. By this time, it was around 9 p.m., if memory serves me. And I was informed that from 8:00 until midnight, every hour on the hour, the Eiffel Tower would sparkle. And my brain and heart finally exploded.

I didn't think she could be more beautiful, until I saw her in her evening wear.

We finally tore ourselves away and walked back to our hotel. I turned the water on in the walk-in shower as hot as it would go; I sat on the cold tiles and let it pour over my back until my skin turned red as I tried to figure out how one life - my life - could change in a matter of hours.

And this was only Day 1.

(Worth noting - I always sleep with a fan on. The white noise puts me to sleep in an instant. So, I brought a small one with me. And then proceeded to try to start an electrical fire by plugging it in. European voltage > American voltage. Also? THAT SMELL.)