Finding magic in everyday Paris

I’ve been to Paris four times before, each visit a blur of museums and monuments and feeling like I wasn’t seeing enough. This time I rented an apartment in the 11th arrondissement and pretended I lived there.

My days started at the same bakery on Rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud. The woman behind the counter started recognizing me by day three, and by the end of the week, she’d have my usual pain au chocolat ready when I walked in. These tiny interactions, being a regular somewhere even temporarily, made me feel connected to the city in a way tourist visits never had.

I spent mornings working from cafes, just watching Parisian life happen. The man who came in every day at 10 AM for an espresso he’d drink standing at the bar. The students studying at corner tables. The elegant older women who’d meet for coffee and conversation.

Instead of hitting major museums, I explored neighborhoods. Belleville, with its Chinese and North African immigrants, amazing street art, and incredible views from the park at the top of the hill. The Canal Saint-Martin area, where young Parisians gather for picnics along the water. Rue Mouffetard’s market street where I’d buy cheese and bread and fruit for dinner.

I did go to one museum: the Musee Rodin. But I spent as much time in the sculpture garden as inside, sitting on a bench in the sun, reading, watching other visitors. The Thinker and The Gates of Hell are impressive, but so is the feeling of having nowhere else you need to be.

The food was better than any previous visit because I wasn’t trying to find the best restaurants. I went where locals went. A Vietnamese place in Belleville where I was the only non-Asian person. A wine bar in Oberkampf where the owner recommended wines I’d never heard of. The Turkish restaurant around the corner from my apartment where the owner started giving me free tea because I came in so often.

One evening I walked along the Seine as the sun set, but I skipped the touristy areas near Notre Dame. I walked the eastern section where it’s mostly locals, people exercising, reading, having conversations. The light was golden, reflecting off the water, and I had that feeling you sometimes get while traveling where everything aligns and you think “yes, this is exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.”

Paris on your fifth visit is different than Paris on your first. Better, even. You stop rushing, stop feeling like you’re missing something, and start noticing the small things that make a city special.