A Parisian Snow Day

Yesterday I ventured forth from the cozy (yet very cold) sanctity of my little town. I left Bill, my little snowbird I made a few days ago, perched on my windowsill and bundled up in entirely too many layers (did I say too many? I meant not enough), and headed off to Paris!

Bill says, "Tweet! It's cold."

Of course, I've been to Paris three times before so it's definitely not as special as it once was. But I was meeting a friend (who had never been) so I had the advantage, not to mention he can't speak a word of French.

We started at the Place de la Concorde and strolled up towards the Champs Elysee, through the Christmas market which is surprisingly similar to Arras' Christmas market. I'm starting to believe my referent that they're all the same. Halfway up, it started snowing. "Snow? In Paris?" you think, "that sounds awesome!" Well, not really. It immediately turns into slush as it hits the ground and at some point it turned from snow to snow/hail and took vicious pleasure in hitting you in the face.

Although, once we got to the Eiffel Tower (because somehow, you always end up there no matter what), it was back to thick flakes that made things seem a little bit more magical despite the freezing cold and the annoying African guys shaking their hangers full of crappy Eiffel Tower souvenirs.

We started out on the Palais Chaillot side and then wandered down over the bridge and underneath and over to the Ecole Militaire side where we proceeded to have an oddly-thrown snowball fight. Lastly, before escaping to warmth, we made a stop at Gerard Mulot, Paris' best pastry shop. I wish I could buy everything in it, however, I wish neither to be that poor nor that fat. I settled for my usual tart. Of course.

Paris in the snow is a beautiful idea but not a very practical reality. Perhaps, though, it's one of those things you must do since, after all, the Eiffel Tower is no longer the metal asparagus it once was, and Paris in the snow is beautiful too.