Our Amazing Vacation in Paris

Join me, Tartlets, on a little trip to heaven on earth — a.k.a, Paris. 

What I did on my summer vacation

It’s the last few weeks of August, and let’s face it: no one wants to work. Including me.

Instead of bringing you a book review or book-inspired recipe this week, I’m bringing you a travel diary of my summer vacation in France. We visited both Paris and Giverny, which is in the Normandy region. 

I posted a few photos from my trip on Instagram and Facebook a few months ago, and I cannot believe it’s taken me this long to get to the rest of the photos. And, to writing up this blog post.

Who’s ready for a vicarious trip? Allons-y!

Paris is always a good idea

Although my favorite part of the trip was Giverny (we’ll get to that later), we spent about four days in Paris. It was Mr Tart’s first time there, and my first time back in about 20 years.

Confession time: I didn’t love Paris when I was there in 2001. It was July, so it was full of tourists. It was also extremely hot. All I really remember about Paris is that it smelled like rotten fruit, B.O., and urine. The only reason I agreed to go back there is because my husband really wanted to visit the city.

This time, Tartlets? Visiting the City of Light was an entirely different and wonderful experience. J’adore Paris.

We stayed at a boutique hotel in the 7th Arrondissement called Hotel de l’Empereur. It was perfect for our needs: within easy walking distance of le Metro (subway), several bus stops, and, of course, beaucoup de bakeries.

We paid a little extra for a room with a view of Les Invalides, and it was totally worth it. The photo below is the view from our window. How Paris is that????

The hotel staff was extremely friendly and helpful — especially when we accidentally set off the fire alarm with the shower. Whoops. — and the breakfast buffet was unreal. Fresh baguettes and mini croissants, cheeses, meats, sliced fruits and veggies, yogurts, granola, dried fruits and nuts, and even some small pastries.

France doesn’t really “do” breakfast like Americans, so it was great to have breakfast included at our hotel stay. And, it was a million times better than most breakfasts I’ve had anywhere in the States. 

Our hotel was just a few streets away from Rue Cler, which is where I stayed the last time I visited Paris. This area is great because it’s full of locals and doesn’t feel as touristy as so many other spots in the city. Plus, Rue Cler has tons of mom-and-pop restaurants and shops.

My favorite patisserie and boulangerie was here (pictured below), and there were numerous cafes, quaint bistros, farm stands and markets, a cheese shop, a tea shop, fish markets, and a gelato shop. 

We spent a lot of time wandering this street each evening, stopping for a relaxed meal and some people-watching, then picking up some pastries to bring back to the hotel room for dessert.

Speaking of pastries…

The food in Paris. OMG, THE FOOD. I don’t have too many photos. I was too busy eating my body weight in butter, pastry cream, and carbs. Each day in Paris, I ate at least one (perfectly flaky, buttery, airy) croissant, and various portions of various baguettes.

Since we walked between 20,000 – 25,000 steps per day, weight gain was not an issue on this trip. C’est si bon.

Pistachio is one of my favorite flavors, and while it’s gaining popularity in the U.S., Europeans really use it best. I ordered everything pistachio I could get my hands on: tarts, croissants, eclairs, macarons, gelato.

One restaurant offered a pistachio souffle — the kind you have to order 30 minutes ahead of time because they make it fresh pour vous. Umm, I jumped on it.

Mr Tart ordered a Baked Alaska, which was doused in brandy and then lit on fire right in front of us. Both desserts were parfait.

Oui, je parle français. Un peu. 

For all those who think the French are rude: Excusez-moi, but you are so completely wrong.

Every French person we met was welcoming, friendly, helpful, and lovely. We only met one Parisian who was a little gruff, but he was a Metro worker, so he completely gets a pass. A lot of the NYC/MTA subway workers I’ve encountered are no picnic, either. 

I do know a little bit of French, so I made sure to throw out as many Bonjour!s and Merci!s as I could. I also began every interaction with a French person en français. It was only when we hit a conversational wall that I resorted to the dreaded “Parlez-vous anglais, s’il vous plait?” 

Oh, how I wish my high school French teachers could have seen me in Paris! Madame Schulz and Madame Frost, I did you both proud. I trotted out as much as I could remember of my three years of French lessons, and you know what? I did pretty damn well.

Various people thought I was French. Like, born and raised in France. Because of how well I was speaking! And because of how good my French accent was.

Well… okay. They thought I was French until they replied to me at warp-speed in their native tongue. At that point, my eyes would glaze over and they’d know something was amiss. But they didn’t immediately go “Ah! Americaine?” with a disdainful sniff, either. And I consider that a win.

Most importantly, I was able to walk into a bakery and order two sandwiches, a dozen macarons, and an entremet completely in French. I understood the server, and the server understood me. Brava.

Moral of this story? Don’t walk up to a person in another country and immediately speak your language to them. Memorize a few words and try them out. Yes, it’s embarrassing and nerve-wracking at first. Yes, they will probably switch to English if they can. 

But you know what they probably won’t do? Spit in your food before it comes to the table. Because being a nice, respectful human being goes a long way. 

What we learned from Paris

Our time in Paris (and Giverny) ended up being a teachable moment for us: this is where we learned that we do not have to plan everything all the time. 

As a self-proclaimed Type A Control Freak, I’m used to scheduling our vacation tours, adventures, meals, and explorations down to the half hour. To “maximize the fun.” Granted, this results in an action-packed vacation, but it doesn’t leave much room for relaxation or surprises.

We’ve had numerous vacations canceled over the past few years. We were originally supposed to go to France in 2020, but we all know what happened that year.

We were supposed to Savannah and Tybee Island in October 2022, but we had to cancel the entire thing because of my back problems. And, we were supposed to spend last Christmas in London with our close friends, but we caught COVID (for the first time!) about a week before we had to board the plane.

After THREE meticulously planned-then-canceled vacations, I went on strike. Other than booking hotels, flights, and train tickets, I wasn’t planning another damned thing until we actually made it on a plane and across the ocean.

Our first day in Paris, we walked past the Eiffel Tower and saw the huuuuuuge line to get in and up the monument. And that was just for the people who had already bought tickets. We sighed and moved along, and I kicked myself for not scheduling at least one thing ahead of time.

A few nights later, we walked past the Eiffel Tower around 9pm, when the sun was just starting to set, and said to each other, “Well, let’s see how long the line is now.”

There was no line to get into the tour area or to the ticket booth. We immediately bought two tickets and were whisked right to the top of the tower. We got to see Paris as it was draped in twilight, then in inky blue darkness. Golden lights popped on below, and we were standing on the Eiffel Tower when it started its signature Sparkle Show at 10pm.

Words can’t even describe this experience. My husband — a.k.a the Chief Christmastime Exterior Illumination Expert at Tartlet Cottage — was simply dazzled by the thousands of twinkling lights surrounding us and reaching up into the sky.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh like that. It was a sound full of wonder, astonishment, awe, and joy. I’m getting choked up thinking about it, even now. I’m so, so thankful that this moment happened.

And it happened because we didn’t plan it.

Something similar happened with the Louvre. We didn’t buy admission tickets ahead of time, and there was already a huge line snaking around the courtyard when we arrived – 20 minutes before the museum even opened!

We eventually found the end of the line and glommed on, but Mr Tart searched on his phone for alternative ways into the museum. In about five minutes, we booked a guided tour of the Louvre that started in an hour’s time; the guided tour would allow us to completely bypass the lines and go right into the museum.

There’s a little café attached to the Louvre, so we got ourselves a table, ordered some tea and jus de pomme, and congratulated ourselves for going with the flow and finding such a perfect solution so last minute.

Turns out, when you leave room for surprises and miracles, you get them.

Next up: Our Amazing Vacation in Giverny and Vernon. Stay tuned!