paris, coffee, and why i almost missed the metro again

woke up late, spilled coffee on my notes, but here i am stumbling through paris like a sleep-deprived duck. the city’s hum is louder than usual today-maybe it’s the weather? i just checked and it’s this cool 16.31c right now, hope you like that kind of thing. it’s not too hot, not too cold, but that humidity girl here at 41% is messing with my coffee grinds. grinds? yes, i’m desperate. i’ve been chasing the perfect brew since the sun rose, and let me tell you, paris isn’t exactly known for hiding great beans under its cobblestones.

my intersection with locals has been… sporadic. once, a street artist nearly collided with me while spray-painting a cat on a wall. he said, ‘you look tired, drunk, or both-don’t tell anyone.’ i just nodded and kept walking. another time, a neighbor at a tiny café mentioned something about a ‘ghost in the bookstore on rue deology.’ i didn’t ask. i’m not a ghost hunter, but if there’s a spectral espresso machine in there, i’m in.

reviews? not really. but i do pick up whispers from tourists. someone told me that the boulangerie near the metro stop only opens at 7 am, but the locals say it’s midnight there. another person warned me that the arrondissement i’m in has a reputation for ‘very confused ducks.’ i hate to say it, but i’ve seen a duck wearing a tiny hat near a market. is that a thing? who knows.

if you get bored, the suburbs are just a short drive away. i mean, not far, but also not near. my gps keeps glitching near those parks, which is perfect. i’m not one for guided tours or structured plans. i’d rather dodge bicycles and argue with strangers about the best pastries. speaking of which, i spent 40 minutes circling a bakery that supposedly has the best croissants. turns out, they were out. so i got a mediocre one and a latte from a barista who looked like she’d rather be napping. typical.

photos? let’s see. this one’s a view from my tiny apartment window.

it’s not much, but it’s sincere. another shot of the café where i almost spilled more coffee.

that waterway guy? not a tourist, just a guy in a green shirt riding a bike. and this? a street scene that looks like it’s from a film no one made.

the maps thing is glitchy too. i tried to share my location with a hostel via that google maps embed thing, but it kept sending me to a random farm in normandy. maybe the data just hates me.i don’t know if it’s supposed to work. but who does?

advice? i’ll give you one: trust no one who tells you paris is ‘romantic.’ it’s more like a sleep-deprived friend who keeps throwing things at you. also, if you’re here for the history, don’t. i swear a tourist said the eiffel tower is actually a medieval fortress. i’m not even sure if that’s a joke or a warning.

links? go check out the tripadvisor page for montmartre-it’s wild. yelp has a bunch of cafes that claim to be ‘artisan’ but probably sell pre-packaged stuff. and this local twist: a neocities blog post about parisians who refuse to pronounce their ‘r’s. it’s not a link, but it’s a vibe.

in the end, i went back to my room, drank that lukewarm coffee, and tried to nap. the weather outside is doing that weird thing where it’s neither hot nor cold, and the humidity is a constant itch. neighbors? i heard a saxophone play outside my door last night. probably a drunken music class or something. either way, i’m out. next stop, amsterdam. which, by the way, doesn’t sound like a place i want to end up. maybe i’ll just stay in this weird house with the sad bed and the sticky windows. goodbye, paris. don’t let the ducks judge you.

stay weird, stay messy, and drink your coffee like it’s the last one.

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