Postcards from Paris, No. 1: Caught in a Daze on the Champs-Élysées
The Church of Saint Mary Magdalene, more commonly known as La Madeleine, sits just a short walk from the Champs Elysees in Paris’ 8th Arrondissement
11:10am, Thursday — Our hotel room isn’t ready yet, but the girl at the front desk tells us to help ourselves to some coffee or tea. I pretend I know how to use the Nespresso machine for a minute before walking away empty handed like a wiener. I notice the desk attendant and another employee pointing and laughing in the little office area off the lobby as I walk by.
It was a random Sunday in July when my traveling companion and I decided to write down a number of countries we might want to visit in the next year or so on little scraps of paper. We proceeded to toss said scraps of paper, maybe a couple dozen, into a Red Wings beanie. We then shook them all up and fished out three just to see what we’d get. We told ourselves beforehand that none of this was binding, but then gave each other simultaneous side-eye glances after saying so, as if to indicate that maybe we kinda wanted it to be, that perhaps maybe it was.
Leading up to this moment, we had talked about returning to Ireland and England, which we’d visited in April 2024; maybe making a trip to Scotland or Wales, or both; perhaps visiting several nooks and crannies across Canada (hello, Banff!); and the possibility of plopping ourselves down in Paris at some point. Thus, when we ended up pulling Egypt, Montenegro, and… *dramatic pause …France (FRANCE!), the choice became pretty obvious. It might not be the most original place to visit — it’s only one of the most famous cities in the world — but I had never been to Paris, let alone France, and my traveling companion had not been there in years, so we latched onto the idea fairly quickly.
Keeping within that whole “next year or so” timeframe, it was just under nine months later that we touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport on a Thursday morning in early April. One not-so-quick trip through customs later, we were spirited away in a taxi, headed for the quaint digs that would be our central base of operations for the next six days: Hôtel Chavanel in Paris’ 8th Arrondissement. Little did we know just how clutch of a location we’d selected.
12:04pm — We sit down at a little crêperie for our first meal in the city. Jean Girard, the fictional foe of the equally fictional race car driver Ricky Bobby, appears and implores us not to be afraid; crepes are just like “really thin pancakes” after all, he tells us.
After dropping our bags at the hotel, we set out on foot, eager to explore the surrounding area. From the Moulin Rouge to the Palais Garnier Opera House and the Church of Saint Mary Magdalene (AKA La Madeleine), not to mention the Champs Elysees itself, we had an embarrassment of French riches right at our fingertips. That first afternoon, however, we darted over to Galeries Lafayette Haussmann, a multi-story shopping mall on Boulevard Haussmann mere minutes from us, to get a quick view of the city from atop the rooftop terrace. It was there that we got our first proper look at the Eiffel Tower, albeit from a distance.
Lunch was served not long after at a little spot called Midi 12 on Rue de Lafayette. As beautiful as it was that first day — the sun was shining and the temperature was somewhere north of 70 degrees Fahrenheit, the warmest it would be during the entirety of our stay — we posted up at a tiny table out front. It did not take long to vacuum up the pair of galettes we ordered, one packed with ham and cheese with a fried egg set on top like a Christmas bow, the other brimming with goat cheese, nuts, honey, and some roasted apple slices (see: the middle photo above). They were so good, in fact, that we figured we’d probably stop at Midi 12 again at some point. We never did, mostly because I wanted to try as many places as possible, but it was certainly worthy of a sequel.
1:17pm — Children entertain themselves playing on top of a giant grate on an island in the middle of the bustling intersection outside the Moulin Rouge. A jumble of red balloons appears out of thin air, followed by a strange voice that says something about “floating down here”. We don’t stick around to see what happens next.
It was at that point, stuffed from our Jean Girard-approved crepes/galettes, that a sleeper hold came over us. Sadly, we still had about an hour to kill before we could check into Hôtel Chavanel in earnest. So we went for a stroll, passing by the Moulin Rouge and then moseying back over to Square d'Estienne d'Orves, a small green space in front of the 19th century Roman Catholic Église de la Sainte-Trinité, or Church of the Holy Trinity. The square looked like a lovely place to pop a squat and soak up some sunshine, but having only slept a few hours on the overnight flight, during which we “lost” seven hours, nap time was calling.
6:39pm — Our 1-hour nap somehow transforms into a 3.5-hour nap. Jet lag is no joke, folks.
8:11pm — Adult beverages are served at a nifty little spot called Nepita. The vibe is decidedly mid-century modern (or at least that’s what ChatGPT tells me). I can dig it.
We had had the foresight not to put anything concrete on the schedule for Day 1, knowing we would likely be dead tired from our travels. Hindsight confirmed this was a marvelous decision. Following our brief hibernation period at the hotel, we got ourselves a little gussied up and hit the streets once more for a nightcap. This materialized in the form of a round of drinks at the fancy-schmancy watering hole inside the nearby Hôtel Florida Paris. The restaurant bar, called Nepita, serves Mediterranean food and classy cocktails. Not quite ready to scarf down a meal at that point, we opted only for the latter: a whiskey-based drink, complete with a torched lemon slice, for yours truly and a cosmopolitan for the lady.
We strolled off into the night once more after that, eventually finding our way, somewhat unwittingly, over to the Champs-Élysées, Paris’ most high-profile boulevard. Running a mile and change on the north side of the Seine River, this famous avenue connects two noteworthy places in the city: the Arc de Triomphe to the west and Place de la Concorde to the east.
Possibly the crappiest photo of the Obelisk of Luxor in the middle of Place de la Concorde that you’ve ever seen (peep the Eiffel Tower way off to the right)
Setting aside the Arc, which we’ll get to on another day, let me give you a brief introduction to Place de la Concorde, the public square we wandered into that very first night in Paris. Originally called Place Louis XV after the man who reigned over France from 1715 to 1774, Place de la Concorde, which translates to “Harmony Square”, is the largest square in the city. Its current name is somewhat ironic when you consider the fact that it is the site where multiple famous executions took place amid the French Revolution (1789-1799), including those of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette (#RIP).
9:30pm — Ahh, the Champs-Élysées, Paris’ version of the Magnificent Mile. Look, there’s the Arc de Triomphe down the way, and, oh my goodness, is that the Eiffel Tower over yonder? Who knew our sightseeing bucket list would be checked off already on Day 1.
The Obelisk of Luxor, situated in the middle of the square, is the oldest monument in Paris, dating back to the 13th century B.C.E. It didn’t come to the city, however, until 1831, when it was gifted to Louis Philippe, the second-to-last king of France, from the viceroy of Egypt in a fun little diplomatic gesture to strengthen ties between the two nations.
Other prominent features of the square include the group of statues and figures representing various areas of the country, such as Bordeaux and Marseilles, as well as a pair of fountains that represent wartime navigation and river navigation. Additionally, immediately to the east is where you’ll find Jardin des Tuileries, a sprawling public park named after a since-demolished palace that used to stand along the riverfront. The 63-acre green space served as the site of the Olympic cauldron for the 2024 Games and serves daily as a place for Parisians to kick back and relax along the Seine.
The hard work of admiring all of this grandeur finally had us hungry enough that we decided to hunt down some dinner. Enter nearby Brasserie Flottes, where the charcuterie board on offer sounded a little too good to pass up. We washed it all down with a couple glasses of wine, as is the custom, of course.
By the time we got back to the hotel, we were both ready to pass away. We were going to need a good night’s sleep, too, because Day 2 was about to be another long, long day with a trip out to Mont-St Michel that I could not have been more excited for.
-LTH