What's left to say about Paris? It's a magnificent city full of amiable energy that spurs people to slave and starve for the possibility of becoming a writer, an artist or a fashion guru. Many creative minds have lived in places like Montmartre and found their mojo. Resulting, of course, in masterpieces. Who knows, maybe one day Sumin and I will try our luck, too.
This time though, after spending a relaxing, quiet time in Lyon, the hustle and bustle of Paris was rather overwhealming. The train ride was nice and we arrived safely in the afternoon. Then, to our surprise, what was praised online as an oasis left from the great thirties, right next to the opera in the stylish ninth arrondissement, turned out to be a musty fleabag.
Sure, Paris is famous for its lousy hotels, including excluded breakfast that isn't worth a single Groschen, but still, a little comfort would've been nice. After a brief emergency conference we decided to stay and make the best of our situation. I mean, it wasn't like we had lost our bags or got knifed in the back or something. It was just, not Lyon or Berlin anymore.
We left the hotel and started walking. One foot at a time and one street after the other. Soon we grew hungry and found a crowded restaurant on the corner of a quiet alley. Luckily, we had some addresses we wanted to check out. The memos in our phones gave us direction and we observed everything along the way. Walking with Sumin like that is the best part.