Jamal beat me to this when he was in Paris last fall, but I had to go and check out the rooftop of the Galeries Lafayette for myself. The weather was unbelievable early last week, and I knew a panoramic view of the city would be magical with a clear blue sky. Pro tip: go early in the morning to avoid feeling like a sardine. The Galeries Lafayette open at 9:30, I got there at 10, and was able to walk around and browse (they have every luxury brand you could think of spread across eight floors) without keeping my arms pinned to my sides. I made the mistake of stopping in on Saturday afternoon and it was madness, I couldn’t even get on the escalator for the crowds. The view from that roof terrace is worth it at any time of day, though.

This Radiohead song was playing outside of the entrance both times I walked by, and it’s been on constant repeat in my apartment ever since. It’s going to be one of those songs that I can listen to years from now and immediately be transported back to Boulevard Haussmann, caught in the throngs of shoppers:

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfOa1a8hYP8&w=600]

Other Paris Details of Note: I am more social here than I am back home, accepting offers of happy hours and shopping trips and dinner at a fancy sushi restaurant. All of the walking around I’ve been doing (averaging 6km/3.5m per day) has seriously taken its toll: I had to break down and buy sneakers because my feet were killing me, and guess what? Parisians really do wear sneakers, I’ve seen it (though they did judge me for my casual footwear when I stopped into Hermès this morning).

I needed tea for my apartment, so I walked over to the 17eme down Boulevard de Courcelles to Mariage Frères. I bought a box of Rouge Métis, a red fruit roobios, and my standard, Paris Breakfast. I love the neighborhood around parc Monceau, all luxe Haussmann buildings at their best and wide, leafy avenues. When I was undertaking the apartment search, this neighborhood, Ternes, was the first I checked, though I quickly realized it was well out of my price range. No surprise there, considering I stopped for lunch at Le Diplomat on the way home (mostly to use their wifi) and paid €11,50 for a croque madame. To be fair it was delicious, but mon dieu, the same sandwich costs half the price elsewhere.

Other Paris Details of Note: It stays light until 9:30pm, nutella crepes really are worth the calories, and everyone seems to be in love, or at the very least content to make out in public.

On my first Sunday here, my fourth day in Paris, I finally decided to go and visit my favorite Iron Lady. I had been here long enough without giving her a proper “Bonjour,” save for a quick glance as I walked through Saint Germain my second day. The crazy thing about this city is how you can get lost in a crowd of tourists around the major landmarks, but then walk one block away and have an entire street to yourself. A few streets away from the Eiffel Tower, and I was the only person around; you couldn’t even hear the cacophony of the crowds. It is impossible to take a bad photograph of La Tour, I swear.

Other Paris Details of Note: I have officially been here one week already. One week! And lest you think I’ve spent this last week only eating croissants and macarons and visiting iconic landmarks in Paris (ahem), I’ll have you know that as of today, I’ve also written close to 4 thousand words of my novel. I broke 50k today.

I love my neighborhood. We stayed in Montmartre on the last trip, too, and it feels really “mine” this time. Remember Villa Leandre? It did not disappoint in person, though I had to awkwardly wait on the corner for a Russian tour group to take their photos before I had it all to myself. Patience! I forgot how much patience goes into shooting. And how much covert lurking is needed to not look too tourist-y. I’m really good at lurking.

My landlord told me a brief history of the neighborhood on my first day here: When the Prussians invaded the city in 1870, they massacred the family that owned the moulins (the windmills) in Montmartre, and pinned their body parts to the fans, staining them red with blood. Years later when the first cabarets were opening, Montmartre, not being within the Paris city limits at the time, was able to open several bars and use wine from their own vineyards without paying the alcohol tax to the city. They needed a name that would draw attention, and thus the Moulin Rouge was born. Kind of macabre when you know the story behind how it got its name. I can see the famous red windmill from my terrace.

Other Paris Details of Note: I have a croissant every morning, I’ve already been to Ladurée, and the weather has been so beautiful I could cry. Why didn’t I do this sooner?