Page 3 of Blue Eyes & Paris Vibes

Max loves Paris. We live only a two-hour-something train ride away from it and boy, does he make use of that. He’s an event coordinator and found himself a job that lets him plan most of his events in Paris, but even when he doesn’tneedto be here, he’ll pop over and find yet another corner of the city he hasn’t explored yet.

I always wonder why he hasn’t just gotten himself an apartment here yet. At this point, I’m convinced he knows Paris better than our hometown.

This was supposed to be one of those trips, his chance to ‘experience the city authentically’ before the summer tourism starts up.

However, as luck would have it, Max broke his leg two weeks ago. I’m not completely sure how he did it and he refuses to tell me, but I bet it has something to do with that boy's trip he went on. I think they went hiking. Maybe his leg isn’t even broken but a mountain lion chewed on it. Or they went axe throwing and had an accident. Good thing the most risky thing my friend group does is trying out a new board game.

Then again, knowing my brother, he might have just gotten drunk and slipped on his own feet.

Whatever the reason, he guilt-tripped me into going on his trip. I’m the only one in his friend circle who didn’t have any prior obligations, since I just graduated and decided to take some time off. I landed a full-time job in marketing that’s starting in five weeks, so I was free to take Max’s place.

I could have asked one of my friends to come with me but I doubt any of them would have gotten time off on such a short notice. I’m not too sad about a solo vacation, though. I’ve never travelled with them and really, holidays are what make or break a friendship and I want to relax, not land myself in some kind of friendship test.

So, I spent the last week researching things to do and what to book to make this vacation memorable. And I didn’t have to ask anyone if they were okay with my plans, or keep any evenings open to hang out with someone I see at home all the time, which was just… liberating. I might get addicted to solo vacations.

And who knows? Maybe I will fall in love with this city too and be back before I know it.

I sigh with relief when I finally see daylight again. Now, I just need to catch the bus to the hotel—and of course—it pulls away from the stop just as I spot it. And just for the cherry on top, I spot a flash of that all-too-familiar shade of blue inside.

Great. Just great. Seriously, this vacation is off to a bad start.

I curse Max for sending me here, then curse myself for letting something so petty get under my skin. Okay, Abby. Deep breath. Don’t let that fuckwad ruin your time here.

I check the map and breathe a sigh of relief when I realize it's only a 15-minute walk to the hotel. Whether I wait for the next bus or walk, it won’t matter, so I pop on my headphones and decide to enjoy the stroll. It feels nice after sitting on a train for so long, the cool spring air blowing in my hair and gentle sunshine on my skin.

I cross an intersection, and there it is! The top of the Eiffel Tower peeks above a building. Goosebumps form on my neck and I come to a stop, just looking at it.

Yes, I’ve seen it from the plane, from afar in Paris, and in countless postcards from my brother. But seeing it up close? That hits so differently.

I round the corner, and Champ de Mars stretches before me, a name I’ve read tons of times when I planned my trip, but now I finally have an image to go along with it.

It’s a mix of park and boulevard with a wide green strip that leads straight to the Eiffel tower, people picnicking and playing sports on the lush grass that is flanked with rows of square-shaped trees.

It’s idyllic, and I’m determined to walk through it, gravel crunching under my suitcase as I go. Sure, it’s probably going to take the same amount of time as dragging it over concrete or cobblestone, but at least the view is better and I know my hotel is closer to the Eiffel tower anyway.

I can’t help but grin as I watch other tourists do their typical photo ops, some pretending to hold up the tower, others balancing it on their hands, and one guy… well, let's just say he has auniqueinterpretation of the landmark.

Before long, my phone leads me out of Champ de Mars and into a residential area, with elegant old facades and balconies lined with delicate lattices.

I snicker when I realize what it reminds me of.Aristocats. It's been ages since I saw that movie, but it used to seem sofancyto my seven-year-old self and this neighborhood looks very old and like important people used to live here.

God, I can’t wait to see what the hotel looks like. Judging from these buildings, it has to be so fancy.

As I get closer, I spot a supermarket and some restaurants and my stomach already starts grumbling, letting me know it’s time for lunch. But first I want to get this suitcase to my room, because my arm is turning really fucking heavy.

One more corner to the hotel. Almost there, Abby.

I start walking quicker, ready to finally be there and push my suitcase into a corner, so excited to see what the hotel will look like, but then… I sigh.

My phone tells me I’ve reached my destination, right as I’m face-to-face with a concrete block, that, annoyingly enough, has the hotel name I’m looking for on a sign right over the entrance.

Ugh. I certainly imagined this a little less underwhelming. But okay, it’s what’s inside that counts, right? I cross the street, reassuring myself that the insidemustbe better, or I’d seriously start to question Max’s taste.

And it is. The lobby is sleek and modern, with grey floors and pastel walls, and some pops of orange at the bar. I’m impressed. This place almost feels like an art museum. I approach the reception, but then I hear shouting and freeze in my tracks.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Abby

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