Paris. The city of love (vom), cheese (yum), wine (yes!) and chainsmokers (yuck). I had been to the city of endless street cafes back in 2004, on a romantic trip with my mother, after I finished studying abroad in Italy. Thanks, Judy Feder.

As much as I love my mom, visiting Paris in December was not ideal. In fact, it was downright freezing. But this time around, Paris was perfect. The sun was shining, the bistro tables outside were packed with tourists (and locals) just soaking up the sun and alcohol. It was truly magical. Every step I took, I wanted to snap “the best pic” of those iconic Parisian buildings with their wrought iron balconies and worn shutters. Even if that meant stopping every five feet. But you know what? I think I nailed it.

We stayed at, you guessed it, another Airbnb. We found a bargain of a place for around $50 a night. It was a cute little studio located in a hip neighborhood by the name of Canal Saint-Martin.

First thing I did when we dropped off our bags…I Googled “best cheese plate in Paris” and jackpot, I found one.

If you are in Paris, you must go to La Vache dans les Vignes. It is delicious. You pick the wine (we went with rosé) and the owner chooses the three cheeses that go best with that wine. Turns out, a cheese that’s banned in the states goes best with rosé. We are cheesy criminals, fo’ sho.

Our first night in Paris, we met up with Craig’s college friend James and stayed up WAY past my bedtime. And when I say “way” I mean WAAAAYYY. We’re talking didn’t get home until 4am. I didn’t even know things stayed open that late. But in Paris, they do.

The next day, slightly sleep deprived, we walked the tourist walk. We ventured up to Montemarte (with everyone else) to look at a church. Lord have merci…

We are both not religious people at all, but churches in Europe are something else. I mean, get with the program, America. If you built beautiful churches, I may, emphasis on may, considered g0ing. May-be.

From the church, we soaked up the arts and hit up the Dalî exhibit. I love me some Dalî. This museum, seems like a tiny snoozefest from the outside, but the inside actually has some rad stuff, so just suck it up and step inside. It’s worth it. I promise.

What’s not worth it? Venturing over to Moulin Rouge.  In my mind, I thought it would look just like it did in the movie. But in fact, it looked like it just got built.

So. Disappointed.

Moving on (just like I’m sure Ewan moved on after Nicole) we walked to a hidden gem that I’m sure none of you’ve ever heard of…

We’re only showing you the tip, just to see how it feels, and also to not give away this secret spot. But, you’re hearing it here first, I have a feeling this place will be big some day. I know I fell for it…

From there, we stopped by one of a million cafes and butchered our way through ordering something in French, which usually just involves a lot of pointing at the menu. We ordered more wine. Then switched to mojitos. I’ll tell you what, the French seem to love their mojitos. It’s all the rage at happy hours.

Something that wasn’t happy? Seeing the army every block, just cruising the streets with machine guns. No joke. I mean, I guess I get it. They had a massive attack recently. Horrible. But if there’s one thing that is supposed to make me feel safe, it’s not guns on a beautifully sunny day. Guess they are really living by the mantra “suns out guns out” in Paris.

Machine guns aside, I did see cops cruising the streets in rollerblades and that made me oh-so happy and feel really safe (I mean, they were wearing kneepads after all). Rollerblades are an undervalued commodity. Bring the blades back!

Ok, focus. After seeing street things, we saw more art things that we simply Louvre-d.

Want to see all the tourists in Paris in one place? Simply go to the painting of Mona Lisa. As someone who studied Art History (briefly) I’ve always been meh about Mona in person. She’s not as impressive in real life. Unless we are talking about Mona Antoun. Then it’s the opposite. But oh! The people, the people love taking shitty pics of the Mona Lisa…and I love taking shitty pics of them.

Must. Leave. Louvre. Now.

Time to eat our weight in pastries and macaroons. Stretchy pants for the win.

The time has come to travel to Spain for a 490-mile camino along the north. Spoiler alert, there were blisters…and lots of wine.