I hadn’t been back to Paris in June since 2014, and while you’ll never hear me complain about Paris in the winter (the dark and moody weather makes a perfect contrast against the orange glow of cafe lights) there is something undeniably alluring about the summer there. The sun doesn’t set until close to 11pm, the weather is comfortable (though I had to buy a sweatshirt my first day there. In June.), and I forgot what it was like to not have to regularly duck into a restaurant or shop to thaw out. I guess what this proves is that there really are no bad seasons to visit Paris, and that’s what I tell people then they ask me when they should go. Just go. It rained my whole first day and I had an embarrassing incident on the bus with the RATP transit police (a scam! It’s such a long story, but one which ends with me going to the US Embassy and then giving a police statement at the préfecture in the 8ème, and being reimbursed by my credit card company without question, and all three entities had heard my exact story before from other targeted tourists that same day.) but still, it was home. It is home.
Sun-soaked photos to come, je te jure.