Anyone who hasn’t had their head sealed inside a windowless, soundproof box for the majority of their existence will be aware that by general consensus, the title of the world’s most romantic city belongs to France’s capital: Paris.
I was lucky enough to test this out for myself when I visited last summer. Having been fortunate enough to have taken a few trips to the city over the course of my childhood, I had some familiarity with its winter, which takes place over our school holidays. I already knew about the stunning architecture and amazing food. I thought I had acclimatised to the city’s famous romantic atmosphere. Paris was where I saw two girls kiss in public for the first time. My ten year old self lost her tiny mind. It hadn’t even occurred to me that two girls could kiss before that. If that isn’t the city of love I don’t know what is. I figured I was psychologically prepared for whatever this city could throw at me.
I was wrong. Paris in the summertime is a whole different ball game. Staying in the slightly touristy but nonetheless gorgeous sixth arrondissement, I was walking distance from the Seine and the Louvre. The area was constantly bustling in the balmy 30 degree weather, but such is the price to pay for such a convenient location. There’s enough within reach to make it worthwhile spending a couple of days simply walking around. It’s easy to spend hours wandering down the Boulevard Saint-Germaine, which has a seemingly infinite parade of shops. There are a number of high end designer stores, but my personal recommendation for those on a lower budget is the Kilo store, a vintage shop in which you pay for your clothes by weight, every item colour coded to a different price range per kilo. The Shakespeare and Company bookshop located on the Rue de la Bucherie is perfect for literature nerds, having been frequented by the likes of Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs.
It’s worth taking the metro to Montmartre for the endless sprawl of markets and the permanent Dali exhibit L’Espace Dali. If you’re as insufferably pretentious as myself, you can also frequent The Two Windmills, the cafe in which much of the film ‘Amelie’ was set. The Metro is fast and simple (although it does get awfully humid in there) and despite the reputation the French have for rudeness, I found people were willing to help me out as long as I tried my best to use my terrible high school French.
As far as beauty goes, it doesn’t get any more plentiful than the Tuileries Garden, which was opened to the public in 1667. Its enormous fountain, the Grand Bassin Rond, is surrounded by chairs offering passers by the chance to sit and take in the splendour. I was also surprised to discover a funfair incongruously set up not for from the fountain and historical buildings. That garden at sunset was so pretty I thought my eyes would fall out. It’s frankly a bit overwhelming. If I had been strolling through with a partner I’d probably have cracked and suddenly proposed just so as not to let down the surroundings. This might not be the best spot for a romantic getaway unless you’re certain you’re in it for the long haul. Then again, maybe it’s worth the heartbreak, if only so you can say “We’ll always have Paris…” and stare wistfully into the distance.
Sophie Joske
