Paris, je t'adore

I'm back. I think.
Because even though I'm home, sitting at my desk, in front of my computer, writing these words, I might as well still be in Paris.
Mentally, that's where I still am.

I'm still marveling at the imposing Eiffel Tower,






admiring the grandeur of the Notre Dame,






eating an apple tart with the most flaky, buttery and delicious puff pastry ever made, from the boulangerie of all boulangeries, Poilâne.






I'm still shopping at Mora, getting lost among the rows and rows of shelves filled with pots and pans, wooden spoons of all shapes and sizes and innumerable pastry bag nozzles,






gazing at the Seine, daydreaming about what it would be like if I lived here, in Paris.






I'm still guiltily stuffing my face with 1.50 € macarons from Pierre Hermé while S is going on and on about how overrated they really are.

1.Pistachio, 2.Salted caramel, 3.Passion fruit with milk chocolate filling, 4.Rose, 5.Chocolate

I'm still amazed by the glorious works of art housed in Paris' museums.

I'm still celebrating my anniversary with S while having a glass of wine at a quaint restaurant in Montmartre.

I'm living in the moment.






I'm still frantically changing metros in the chaotic, bustling Parisian underground,






eating a sandwich à la Grecque with feta, cucumber and tomato and wondering how a taste of home, so far away from home, can be so damn good.






I'm still standing on Pont Alexandre III contemplating the beauty of Paris,






dining at an old Parisian restaurant and feeling like I'm transported back to the 1890s when it first opened its doors.






I'm still wandering the streets of Paris, holding hands with my love, not caring where we'll end up.






I'm back. I think.