Paris, France
My flight touched down in Paris at 6 a. m. on a crisp Friday morning. A taxi carried me through quiet streets to the 19th arrondissement, a less tourist-trodden corner of Paris, where I unlocked the door to a ground-floor apartment nestled within a peaceful courtyard. The walls were tall and narrow, adorned with peeling paint and aged stone, and the faint scent of rain-damp limestone mingled with the warm, yeasty aroma wafting from the nearby boulangerie.
Within minutes, I found a small street-side café. Seated on a cold iron chair with a freshly pulled espresso, I watched the world around me awaken— scarves knotted with casual elegance, elderly men lighting cigarettes with practiced flicks and dachshunds trotting loyally beside their owners.
Breathtaking views from the Panthéon in Paris, France.
Later, I took the metro to Montmartre. The climb up to Sacré-Cœur was steep but worth every step. The basilica’ s gleaming white domes, built from travertine stone that continuously exudes calcite to keep it bright, stood like a beacon against the soft morning light. From the terrace, Paris spilled out in a patchwork of gray and ochre rooftops, the Seine threading through like a shimmering ribbon.
Montmartre’ s cobbled streets led me past the historic Moulin de la Galette windmill, a vestige of the area’ s rural past immortalized in paintings by Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec.
At a tiny bistro tucked between art studios, I savored a bowl of French onion soup, its caramelized onions and melted gruyère comforting against the chill morning. A glass of Chardonnay balanced the flavors perfectly. Before returning to my apartment, I stopped at a local grocery to gather essentials— wine from Burgundy, salted French butter, homemade jam, crisp apples, soft pears and a long baguette I tucked under my arm like a bouquet of roses. Dinner was a quiche Lorraine from a nearby bakery, eaten al fresco on the courtyard patio with a glass of ruby-red wine. That first night, alone in Paris, felt like coming home.
At Sainte-Chapelle, built in the 13th century by King Louis IX to house holy relics, sunlight poured through stained glass windows that soared 24 feet high. The kaleidoscope
of color bathed the chapel’ s slender columns and ribbed vaults in a sacred glow. Later, I climbed the dome of the Pantheon, Paris’ s neoclassical mausoleum, where the rotunda’ s vast frescoes narrated the nation’ s history, and from the lantern above, I was treated to a 360-degree panorama of Paris— the spires of Notre-Dame, the iron lattice of the Eiffel Tower and the sprawling boulevards laid out like arteries of the city.
On my way, I passed the Sorbonne University, one of Europe’ s oldest centers of learning. Nearby, the modest laboratory of Marie Curie stood as a quiet testament to scientific brilliance amid the Latin Quarter’ s winding alleys. In the Jardin du Luxembourg, I rested beneath towering chestnut trees, savoring a warm Nutella crepe and a café latte while an unexpected gift unfolded— a free orchestra performance of John Williams’ film scores.
At the Louvre, I wandered beyond the crowds and timeless Mona Lisa to the ornate apartments of Napoleon III. Each evening, I returned to my apartment to enjoy a simple dinner of local cheeses, cured meats and crusty bread, paired with wine from a nearby shop.
One radiant morning, I met a Parisian photographer for a one-hour photo shoot beneath the iron arches of the Eiffel Tower. The experience felt both indulgent and empowering— a way to capture not only the city’ s beauty but my own evolving confidence as a solo traveler.
Versailles, France
The next day, I boarded a train to Versailles. I stopped in the town’ s café for a croissant and hot chocolate before stepping into the grandeur of the palace gardens. Designed by André Le Nôtre in the 17th century, the gardens were a symphony of geometry and nature— immense parterres of manicured hedges, fountains whose water seemed to defy gravity and reflecting pools that mirrored the sprawling chateau. The engineering feat of the hydraulic fountains, pushing water uphill through an intricate system of pumps and reservoirs, was nothing short of miraculous for its time. Though I had toured the palace interior on a previous visit in 2022, this time I discovered the dauphine’ s private apartments, delicate rooms filled with pastel hues and soft light.
That evening, I caught a glimpse of Notre-Dame, still shrouded in scaffolding after the devastating 2019 fire. Later, hungry and slightly nervous about dining alone, I found refuge in a small restaurant where the staff greeted me like a cherished guest.
Brussels, Belgium
The Eurostar whisked me away for a whirlwind day trip to Brussels. The Grand Place, a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural
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