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Paris always seemed imaginative to me, before visiting. Even now, there are qualities that you just don’t get elsewhere.

So, to take myself back to one of the most memorable times of my life, I thought I would write about it.

What an odd experience to step on a plane in Calgary and step off in Paris, France. Although the flight was long, it feels like a sort of time travel. Through all the time zones and sleep that you never got.

Personally, I love planes. The excitement of knowing where you’re headed, but the unknowing of the experiences to come.

To look out the window, and see mountains which are the tops of clouds, and the moon or sun at a more conversational distance than the regular day.

To get the little free chocolates, or cookies that come along with the flight.

Facing the inevitable numbness of your bottom from sitting so long.

None-the-less, it enchants me every time. I could have stayed up the entire travel day and still have this refreshed awe after emerging to a new world.

Now the title is ‘rose coloured glasses’ for a reason. Living in a place comes with responsibilities, which travel doesn’t need to acknowledge. Leaving a lasting feeling of remarkableness with the place and visit all together.

Of course I look back, yearning for what was while I was in Paris. I don’t think living or working there would make it less magic for me, I just think it is easy to forget those aspects come with permanence.

Truly, I was completely enveloped by the city.

The beauty in each cobblestone, every intricate detail. Everything is art. Art is everywhere.

Not only the architecture, but the stories behind each street and sculpture, and of what was.

The quaintness of each apartment, and the grandness all at once.

Paris resonated with me. There’s a pang in my chest from writing about it.

The parks are beautiful too, people so often laying right on the grass, everyone soaking up the day.

Baguettes fresh and mouth-watering pastries. The free cookie a kind worker gave to me.

The Louvre was filled to the brim with observers and admires alike me, each painting breathtaking and striking. Thinking of each brush stroke and how something flat can be so alive.

I must admit, Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or La Joconde was much smaller than I anticipated. And on the opposing wall a ginormous, incredibly detailed and storytelling painting was something I hadn’t heard of. That one was shocking and unreal. Titled Salle de États or The Wedding at Cana by Paolo Veronese.

Everything felt so profound. Enamoring.

It certainly added to the experience that for me it was a school trip, so there were familiar classmates and camaraderie.

One day we had some free time by Notre Dame Cathedral, and me and a friend walked along the Seine.

Green coverings all along the sidelines of the street were popped up, making a market along the walk. We got ourselves drawn by one of the people at a stand.

We continued walking, every step as ideal as the last, because we were in Paris.

I remember rushing-not French of us- to find a place to eat. We were joined by some of the others in this random place. I got the most delicious bread with mozzarella, basil, tomato and it was all perfectly crunchy, fresh, seasoned and filling.

Juliana needed a to-go container, the server was incredibly confused and not English speaking.

She left with a bag of pizza, and it makes one of the best anecdotes.

Really, it represents the divide between our cultures and meals and timing.

Somehow, I find us to always be in some sort of rush. In France everything feels a bit dilly-dally. But people still know how to be prompt.

At least for what I saw.

Versailles and the gardens were something else. Extraordinary and lavish yet intriguing and angering. What a place to visit. I could absolutely get lost.

I think at one point we couldn’t find the entrance after being in the gardens.

Coming from Canada it was so revelatory to see architecture and streets and so much which preluded what I know.

Our last night before moving to the French Rivera-which was distinctly another experience of wonder in itself- was a Seine River cruise.

That night, I aspire to live over and over again. After too little days absorbed in Paris, countless steps and all-consuming reverence. I stepped on the boat, over the water reflecting dazzling city lights. Leaping off of the ripples from the boat to every eye.

We passed by iconic monuments of Paris, the city wasn’t asleep, but it was serene. Going under the bridge and emerging to the landscape again was like an exhale.

Of course, when the Eiffel tower lights up and sparkles it is unlike anything else. It was one of those completing, fleeting moments where nothing else crosses your mind.

I love Paris, and one day I’ll return to the sparkling tower.

A few other things I adored, would have to include the room we stayed in. Where we didn’t know how to work the lights (the key card).

Being up for every second of light, and the dark of morning and evening added to the magic for me.

I mean yes, I was exhausted. But you get this extra appreciation for every little thing when you’re lacking sleep.

Things that normally wouldn’t be deliriously funny suddenly are. Plus, I love coffee so I just had another reason for a steaming cup each morning.

On one of our walks, being first introduced to the Seine, we saw a swan. That was lovely.

Also, the accordion player we observed while crossing a bridge. And the (mostly) skilled roller bladers we saw doing tricks.

The train to the next location was extremely bittersweet.

The French countryside was mesmerizing. Rolling hills of bright yellow and green.

Each time a hill covered the window, and as I nodded in and out of attention a meadow would be out the window, then to be hidden again.

I encourage anyone with the ability to put on the glasses. Life looks a lot more romantic.

I hope you enjoyed this reflection of my time in Paris, I certainly did. I miss it a little more now.