I'd like to think that by Sunday, when I leave Paris, I'll have learned all of the secrets.
All of the vintage nooks, the special "non-touristy" tourist destinations, the cheapest coffees, the cutest waiters, the oldest buildings ... the things that any self-respecting Parisian would claim to know.
But then again, what fun would it be if I didn't leave some things to be discovered? For example, at this moment, I believe I've found the best lookout spot in the city.
Tables for lounging, food for eating, railings for leaning, pigeons for scavenging - the whole shebang. True, the Eiffel Tower may offer a more spectacular angle - and Sacre Coeur a more all-encompassing vantage point, but there's something to be said for the priceless (but very pricey) combination of clothing and culture offered by the Printemps terrace.
|jacket, shirt: vintage, pants: Current Elliot, shoes: Franco Sarto, backpack: Longchamps, glasses: Anthropologie|
After nine floors of far-fetched fineries, tear-jerking tapestry boots, and enough leather to clothe a cattle calvary, a little perspective is just what the psychiatrist ordered.
But I'm guessing there's another secret little perch just waiting to be found.
I'm such an American.