I think this is the very first Sunday I’ve been in Paris because I don’t remember ever being here and having to worry or think about things being closed. We were trying to arrange a lunch with Chris’s parents, who arrived several days ago, and it took me almost half an hour to find something between TripAdvisor or Yelp that was actually open, affordable, and decently rated (I read both the French and the English reviews; thankfully, the Yelp presence seems quite good in this city, unlike many other parts of Europe). I ended up picking a cute and cozy creperie along a small street near the Paris Catacombs, which we planned on visiting afterward. The entire little street was full of creperies, one after the other. If I hadn’t done any research beforehand and were forced to pick one out of the many, I would have been overwhelmed. The place we picked turned out to be delicious – I had the classic buckwheat crepe with ham, egg, and cheese, and we all shared a bottle of red. The edges of the crepe were thin and crispy, and the ham was so good. The last time I had ham this enjoyable was in Brazil last year. Ham in the U.S. is so hit and miss… and usually miss.

When our meal ended and we were getting ready to leave, I went to the restroom and noticed a diner’s dog lying on the floor by their table with his eyes closed, his tail wagging. I smiled and thought about how that would never fly in the U.S. at any indoor restaurant because of the seemingly strict health codes. I’ve never really cared about people’s pets coming into stores like Walgreen’s or Duane Reade, or even grocery stores like Fairway or Lucky. What’s the big deal anyway if the animal is on a leash? We seem to pride ourselves on food safety and such in the U.S., but I don’t really think that people in France get food poisoning at a higher rate than back home, and even if they did, it definitely could not be because of the pets going into drug stores and restaurants.

We spent our first full day in Paris today. After arriving on our overnight flight in six and a half hours, we took the train into the city, checked into our hotel, showered, and went off to see the City of Lights.

As for our first few destinations, I dragged Chris to Poilane, the famous boulangerie known for its round loaves of sourdough, punition cookies, and croissant. The chausson au pomme and pain au chocolat did not disappoint, but unfortunately, the punition (little punishment) cookies weren’t as great as I was hoping. I’d actually picked up Dorie Greenspan’s Paris Sweets baking book many years ago, and she had included the punitions cookie recipe from Poilane in it. I made them several times and really enjoyed the simplicity of this slightly crunchy butter cookie that is so delicate that its dough requires very light kneading and a cookie mold. The punitions today, which were handed out complimentary to visitors at the bakery, were hard, almost brick like to bite into, and Chris was less than impressed (“that was crap,” he muttered afterwards). My dreams were shattered a bit. And I felt myself feeling a little snobbish; I thought that my version of punition was better than the punition creator’s and the bakery that made them so famous that they export these cookies around the world.

A number of other things were top of mind as we wandered through the city today. The last time I came to Paris, I made less money, was more of a traveler-newbie, and came with rose-colored glasses; everything seemed amazing here because it was new and exciting and shiny. But there were a lot of disappointments on that trip if I had to be completely honest; the food overall didn’t impress me other than maybe one or two meals and a few bakery visits. I had some disappointing steak and some overly buttery and creamy stews that likely masked the poor ingredients used to make them. My very first croissant from Eric Kayser, who has now built up a massive empire that has even extended its way to New York City, was an absolute disappointment. It barely flaked and shattered the way the ideal croissant should, and it almost seemed too soft… the way a Costco croissant is (no offense to Costco. It has its strengths and I love it, but not for its croissants or cakes). I was upset when the local French folks responded rudely and gruffly to my attempt to revive my French from high school and responded in blunt English. I was told before I left that if I at least attempted to speak French, they would respond warmly to me. That only happened once during an entire 4.5 days in Paris, and that was at the Mariage Freres tea salon, where I had a beautiful brunch and where the server encouraged me to practice my French and not speak in English to him.

Many books I’ve read as well as people I’ve met have said that Paris reeks of urine and there is dog poo everywhere. I barely noticed this the last time I came, but today, I noticed it pretty much in every neighborhood except along Champs Elysees. I had forgotten that the public bathrooms, even in shopping centers, require a payment of two to three Euros, so most people won’t pay it and will just pee in the streets, hence the strong stench of human urine everywhere.

It was still a fun day, packed with lots of eating and walking around, and even visiting Chris’s company’s office, which is literally right next door to the Eiffel Tower with great views of it. But after our first day, for the most part, people have responded warmly to my attempts to speak French and have responded back in French or a mix of French and English. French phrases are coming back to me, and I’m seeing Paris for what it really is instead of what I had romanticized it to be the very first time I came. The idealization has chipped away, but I still love it and all of its glorious butter and sugar.