Paris Sucked, But You Made It Better

Paris is the most romantic city in the world. With breathtaking views of the Eiffel Tower, chic clothing, and numerous exquisite dishes. I would daydream about visiting it one day. My friends and I even envisioned going together once we get older. The nine-year-old version of myself would be enthralled, listening to countless stories about all the many times her teacher had gone, and how it was her favorite place to travel to. Luckily, two years ago, I finally had the opportunity to spend a day in Paris. My father and I had planned out a beautiful day of events, wearing our nicest outfits, walking around the Louvre, eating the fanciest meals, and getting to go into the Eiffel Tower. It was gonna be everything I dreamt of. However, I realized that Paris was nothing like people made it seem; if anything, it was underwhelming.

I've watched so many movies, seen so many social media posts. All of them painted Paris through this idealized view. Countless elegant buildings, boutiques, and restaurants. Timeless cobblestone streets, delicate historical statues, and a sparkling Eiffel Tower towering over it all. But not even five minutes after setting foot into Paris, I was met with dirty puddles of water, trash littered all over the ground, and an overpopulation of people, cars, and bikes — so many bikes, each one fighting each other over space, all in such a rush to get somewhere. But that couldn't mean this was all of Paris, right? I mean, there is still the Eiffel Tower. Unfortunately, my plans of walking up the Eiffel Tower and experiencing a nice dinner in one of their restaurants had completely disappeared. Unlike what they show in movies, the Eiffel Tower was completely blocked off from the public with a tall fence surrounding it, and it isn't as shiny as it seems on TV. In fact, there is a brown rust that engulfs its entirety. I imagined this very moment so many times, but none of those ideations looked anything like what I saw in person.

The next stop on our itinerary was the Louvre. The world's most famous art museum. Housing the Mona Lisa, by Leonardo da Vinci. Such a beautiful building, on the outside. I would know because my father and I had what felt like hours to admire it, while we waited in a line the whole time, just to get into the building. The museum is huge. Art nearly covers every inch of the building. But I hadn't seen the Mona Lisa yet, and all that waiting does nothing but feed the anticipation of actually being in front of it. My expectations were so high, but as I walked into the room where it was hung, I couldn't even see it. Instead, I saw a mob of people standing, pushing and shoving to get a look at the painting, and waiting for their turn to take a picture with it. As I peered over the crowd, I could see it, and it was way smaller than I expected. The painting itself was subpar. Hung on a huge blank wall, with no other paintings to accompany it. I didn't bother pushing through the herd of people. My opinion on it was already formed from that one glimpse of it. The Louvre, the Mona Lisa — it has all been overhyped.

On our bus tour, the guide had motioned to this fancy little restaurant. Supposedly, it was a very famous and high-end restaurant. All these celebrities had regularly visited. My dad decided that it would be the perfect place to eat in for our dad-daughter date. And so we went. It was a very cute and elegant spot. The servers were kind, but the food… The food was awful. I had ordered a Caesar salad, expecting such a sophisticated restaurant to serve it authentically. But instead, it was the driest, most tasteless Caesar salad I ever had. My dad had ordered a steak tartare and insisted on trying it. Chopped raw steak was so unsettling, knowing I was swallowing such a thing, and just like the Caesar salad, it was flavorless. But despite my distaste for steak tartare, it was I who insisted on trying escargot. I wasn't going to spend a day in Paris and not try it. Much like the previous dishes, it was disgusting. Each one was tough like rubber and hard to chew. The layer of herb butter on top did nothing to mask the taste of straight earth. It was as if I dug into the earth itself, grabbed an earthworm, and ate it, dirt and all. My dad and I were baffled that such a classy establishment had such low-quality dishes. Why any celebrity would eat here beats me. But the sun was beginning to set, and our day in Paris was coming to an end. And dinner was the last stop for the day.

I was a bit bummed; everything I imagined this day to be, Paris to be, was far from what I expected. With every corner we turned, my disappointment grew. I was seeing Paris for what it really is, rather than what social media portrays it as. But while on our train ride out of Paris, I started to think about all the memories I made with my dad. Strolling around the city, pointing out which parts of the buildings were our favorite. The many jokes and conversations we had while waiting in that long line. The comments we made on each art piece we walked by. The sweet nostalgia of a dad and daughter date, like we used to do when I was young. Many pictures were taken to freeze all these memories. It didn't matter that Paris itself was underwhelming, because I spent it with my dad. And so if I had the opportunity to, I wouldn't change anything about my day in Paris.