Becoming V French: Une Aventure a Paris
The warm up: Julia’s plane bathroom routine, wine, and Franglais avec Solomon and Fabian.
Oh Parih. Where does one even begin? Well, considering it’s a 10-hour flight from SFO to CDG, we’ll start there. I was dreading the flight. Dreading. The last time I went to Europe I was 10 years old, and pretty sure I threw up from anxiety before the flight. The difference now is… the combination of a Boeing 787 Dreamliner and wine. Little did I know, the flight attendants would be pouring cheap Syrah down my throat for the first three hours of the trip nonstop. Before I knew it, I’m on my third “glass” of complimentary wine, a couple episodes deep into season three of Parks and Rec, and feeling good. My partner in crime for l’aventure a Paris is Julia. Julia is in the row in front of me, trying to go modest with the wine consumption, with a “no, no thank you” to the flight attendant. Then, proceeds to get a look from the attendant like, “really?” and succumbing to the third pour. Julia may or may not have watched Godzilla, and may or may not have turned around to peak over the seat with tears in her eyes.
It’s officially time for diné and I glance over at my younger French seat mates who are effortlessly eating runny, hot ravioli out of an aluminum tray with miniature plastic utensils. They somehow made even the most difficult task look v French. How might we obtain that je ne sais quoi of the French?
After dinner and my fourth glass of wine is poured, I muster up le courage to spark up a convo with my seat mates, my logic being: we still have about six f*cking hours of this flight and who knows if I’m actually going to sleep. Enchante, Solomon and Fabian. A super cute, young couple traveling back home from SF. My French ended up being marginally better than their English (thanks to the wine) so we mostly went with French. The conversation was all over the place. I gave them the speel about Meme and Pepe to the best of my ability. I learned Solomon et Fabian live in a suburb of Paris and are returning back from their lengthy California vacation. They also gave me some Paris recommendations that I didn’t quite understand. The one recommendation I do remember - also not quite sure how this came up, was for a classic French comedy called Rabbi Jacob with actor Louis de funes. Add that to the watch list, I guess.
Now it’s time to attempt to sleep. I got the memo when Julia went to the bathroom to full-on wash her face, brush her teeth, and come back with her retainer and under eye masks on. This is when the bonding with men nouveaux amis really began. Solomon, Fabian, and I were laughing at Julia’s antics (yes, they also had an amazing sense of humor). Next thing you know, we are all wearing shiny gold eye masks, giggling, getting shushed by the people around us, and per Solomon feeling “come les drag queens” somewhere over Illinois.
I proceeded to turn on Bohemian Rhapsody, pop half a Xanax, and next thing you know, on arrive a Paris. Eternally grateful to Solomon and Fabian for the French practice and reminder of that dry, goofy, sarcastic French humor.
Yep, this is gonna be fun.
Vive comme les francais.
Now, Julia and I went to Paris with essentially the same goals:
Drink lots of wine
Eat all the food
Obtain beaucoup de French skincare
Get thousands of steps
Avoid crowds (and I will argue that October/Nov is the best time to visit)
Become more French.
That last one encompasses several themes, from wardrobe, to skincare, to language, to the metro, to understanding that je ne said quoi of how to be v French. We were determined to vive comme les francais.
For the first few days, we stayed with Pascale, the daughter of Pepe’s late friend who essentially was like “Hey, let’s leave France, go to Montreal, then settle in California” to Pepe in the 1950s. Pascale moved to France about 30 years ago, so obviously had the v French street cred we were looking for. She gave us the confidence to get on the RER rapid transit, reminded us of French etiquette in the restaurants, and told us our suitcases were way too big the second we arrived. First takeaway: the French travel light.
Pascale gave us the gift that kept on giving: a free pocket Paris metro map. We would’ve ended up in the English Channel without it (ok, and without the sense of direction that I got from my dad. I’m the person that uses North/South/East/West). This doesn’t mean we didn’t get confused at some point each day on the 9 days we were navigating the metro, but we never got severely lost. In the desperate scenarios, I resorted to asking a local, who was always happy to help and share their directional knowledge.
Le premier jour: a four-hour nap et le cafe gourmand
Apparently, you’re not supposed to take a nap after a transatlantic flight in an effort to prevent jetlag. Well, oops, the second we got to Pascale’s we took a 4-hour nap. Like passed OUT. I didn’t even know I could do that. We both awoke from our slumber and said in unison “no regrets” and proceeded to get ready to take on the metro and go out to dinner. Major achievement: first metro trip. We arrived at one of the most happening streets in the 2nd Arrondissement to dine at Le Compas. This would also start my beloved salmon tour of Paris, as well as the first of many nights dining al fresco, basking under the outdoor heaters and inhaling the occasional wiffs of cigarette smoke. But none of this matters when you’re in Paris, people watching at a cafe with a bottle of wine, enjoying a simple, delicious meal with the one you love (or Julia).
Le cafe gourmand
On night 1, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to introduce Julia to the genius that is the cafe gourmand. For about 5-7 euros, you can order a cafe gourmand at most cafes and restaurants. It’s essentially the cutest little espresso and dessert you’ll ever see—a little selection of delightful desserts to satisfy your apres dine sweet tooth. We then walked down the Seine to catch a glimpse of le Tour Eiffel because you know, Paris. That sealed the deal that yes, on arrive a Paris.
Le deuxieme jour: The little dancing sun god, antique shopping, et beaucoup de shellfish et vin blanc
So much for avoiding crowds. We had to do Versailles (and get it over with) on day 2. The ‘skip the line’ pass was one of the best life decisions we have made thus far (speaking for you too, Julia), as well as our rotisserie chicken Lays and bottle of wine snack prior to going in. Again, this is the end of October, temps are in the 50s, and it’s not that crazy. But it was still packed with people. V hard to take photos without some tourists photobombing, but we gave it a good attempt. Our pass came with a tour, and our guide who waived around his tall, fake pink flower kept us on track and entertained. One thing I must disclose: I am not the biggest history buff around. Julia is way more sophisticated than me and into history, which is good because I needed someone to get me excited about all the historical sights in and around Paris, e.g. Versailles. Of all the historic facts flooding into my brain that day at Versailles, all I can remember is getting a visual of King Louis the 14th, a teenager, forcing people at Versailles to watch his dancing performances in his “Sun God” costume. However, I do clearly remember resting our feet in the the tea room after our tour drinking glasses of expensive champagne with charcuterie. Hon Hon.
We had some time to peruse the town of Versailles, which was tres cute, and stumbled upon a real antique store. I will say, history in the form of trinkets excites me. So, maybe I do like history? Anyway, antique stores and thrift shops in big cities excite me. The glassware section alone is usually worth the trip. Au Facteur Cheval was unique, welcoming, and the shop owner was a silly Frenchman who made us laugh, despite only understanding about half of what he was saying. That’s what makes it even better.
After hearing about a street in Paris called Rue Cler, we hopped on the RER (almost missed the last one of the day coming from Versailles, oops) and headed back to Paris to check it out. We stumbled upon Le Cafe du Marche. It turned out to be an amazing choice and we ordered allllllll the shellfish - oysters and mussels. They served us a pot of about 5,000 steamed mussels, and you better believe we polished them off, just to get to the winey-buttery-garlicy sauce on the bottom to dip our bread in. TRES BON. We walked down the street to a tropical-themed bar for a nightcap and dessert. Because, when you’re in Paris, there’s always room for dessert.
Le troisième jour: #views from the 9th (Arrondissement), tote culture, and charcuterie chez Pascale
The next day we decided to hit up Galleries Lafayette to get the Paris mall experience, shop for skincare (key element of our trip), and snag some views for the ‘gram on the rooftop. It was at this point, we were reminded how much life is about the ‘gram. We immediately headed to the rooftop. Surrounded by IG models, us ourselves were trying to also get the perfect angles and views that would wow the feed. It’s a tough balance between getting the shot, and not looking totally f*cking stupid while doing it. The second best thing about Galleries Lafayette besides the gram-worthy views? The most insane food court you’ll ever see. I feel messed up for even calling it a food court, but we had trays and it was in a mall, so…yea. I would give it a Michelin star if I could. Bread, real silverware, incredible poulet roti, smoked salmon salad , wine, wine, and wine. All prepared and cooked to perfection… in a mall. This really got the wheels spinning… wow, the French just DO life better than us. They managed to make what is typically the most depressing part of the mall an enjoyable restaurant experience all in its own. And we were HERE for it. We perused a bit, as I was ISO a perfect tote bag to carry my umbrella, hat, scarf, gloves, and water bottle. I am very much bought into tote culture after spending time in NYC and noticing I was the only person on a subway car without a tote/way to carry around all the shit you accumulate throughout the day when traversing a city. We also tried on some v itchy $20 berets and had to buy them, of course. Now that I had le tote, the city was mine for the taking.
Galleries Lafayette is across from the Palais Garnier (for all you Phantom of the Opera fans) and Place Vendome, where you’ll find the bougiest of the bougiest Ritz Carltons. Julia is a Phantom of the Opera fanatic, so she was totes fan-girling all around le Palais Garnier, as I giggled at the sights of groups of people wearing Phantom masks. We then did a quick walk through of the Ritz in our squeaky white sneakers, before poking into a brasserie to refuel on aperol spritzes. Note: by day 3, we are completely bought into on brasserie life, and the fact that almost every brasserie has an outdoor patio with warm heaters to enjoy the French sidewalk sights year-round.
Les Brasseries
Side note: Brasseries are essentially lowkey bar-restaurants that make it easy to grab a decent priced meal and cheap wine. So, there are like 1 trillion brasseries, bars and cafes in Paris and we probably went to about 50 of them. Most of which we stumbled upon (always first verifying for a 4+ star rating on TripAdvisor, duh). I cannot think of an experience where our service was <mal>. What stands out the most are the random hilarious experiences, and this is what life is about. Of course there were times we had to do a “you ask”, “no you ask” for l’addition, s’il vous plait. But it all worked out.
Charcuterie Chez Pascale
After a jam-packed day of exploring this tres populaire touristy destination of Paris, we headed back to Pascale’s, where she prepared a wine and charcuterie night with all the French accoutrements one could ever want. At this point, we are feeling v French, hanging out with v French Pascale. I determine that Julia’s next cat should be named Pascale. Then, Pascale introduces us to the most insane pastries/desserts we’ve ever seen from a local pastries shop. OH LA LA! Merci, Pascale!!!
Le quatrieme jour: La mille fueille, l’Île de la Cité, and very old cheese
We started sunny day 4 around noon with champagne for lunch al fresco in the Latin Quarter. We came across a charming brasserie where the rainbow umbrellas caught our eyes, Brassarie Balzar, and where I could get my French smoked salmon fix and Julia could check one more thing off her list: escargot. I am, to this day, traumatized by the sight and sound of pulling out the spiraling slimey creature out of the shell. But it WAS certainly comical to watch Julia dig them out of the shells. Thankfully, none rolled off the table and onto the sidewalk. Escargot, check.
As we are getting ready to head out, the lovely monsieur offers us some dessert. We respectfully decline no, merci. He then proceeds to request en Francais that I stand up (am I understanding this correctly… oui…), and walks me through the restaurant, to the back, to view the freshly prepared, massive sheet of mille fueille. It was in this moment I was coerced into ordering dessert. I agreed to get one to share, as we were full from our champagne/bread/salmon/escargot breakfast. So, this not only ended up being an event, but one of the most incredible desserts I’ve ever had. Crunchy, Butterly, flakey layers with custard between (remember, I am not much of a dessert person). We were stuffed, seriously stuffed, and couldn’t bear putting down the last piece. Well monsieur comes back, and dramatically points to the piece, grabs my fork, splits it in half, and voila, a piece for me and a piece for Julia. We finished it (no choice, clearly) to appease him. So that was a first. And yes, we still had to ask for l’addition, s’il vous plait.
L’Île de la Cité, where we witnessed true love
Our Day 4 itinerary was jam-packed, and we were ready to walk off the mille feiulle, stopping at the iconic bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, before heading across the bridge to the Île de la Cité to visit the Marie Antoinette exhibit, Notre Dame, and Hotel Dieu de Paris. Fun Facts: Hotel Dieu de Paris is the oldest hospital still operating (worldwide!) and where Pepe was born in 1932 (DANG!).
Obviously the Notre Dame is/was still closed, and we needed to get our old, gothic church fix. Well, introducing Sainte Chappelle. Per it’s website: be dazzled bu the 1,113 stained glass windows at this jewel of the Rayonnant Gothic period. Oh, were we dazzled. Just as dazzling as the stained glass throughout was the display of true love we had the opportunity to witness. Being so damn old, the church is obvi not ADA-friendly, with an extremely tall, narrow, dark spiraling staircase to get inside (who even thought that was a good idea? Maybe the same person who thought it was a good idea to have your walls made out of stained glass..). There was a younger woman who may or may not have been in a wheelchair, and she had some kind of handicap where she couldn’t climb the stairs. Oh, don’t worry, her noble steed of a husband carried her on his back up the staircase, slowly, carefully, and placing her inside the church. What the what? Tres romantique, v French.
f r o m a g e t a s t i n g
Did you really think we would go to France without scheduling a fromage tasting in a cellar of one of the oldest fromageries left in Paris? Absolutely not. We ended up walking all the way from Sainte Chappelle, stopping at several pharmacies on the way, past Musee Pompedou, all the way up to Fromagerie Jouannaut, a family-owned cheese shop situated on one of the best Parisienne streets in Le Marais. This tasting had everything: strong bries, pungeant bleus, and very, very old cheese with a dirt-like substance underneath it. We sat at a table with about 8 others as our guide, Andres, gave us the lowdown on all things cheese while we tasted with wine pairings. I will admit there was one cheese I struggled to stomach. But, I did, because, v French.
Our group ended up being a fun little bunch, comprised of a daughter-father pair from Australia and a young couple from Tennessee. So fun that we ended up at a speakeasy behind a taco shop (you read that right). It had everything: an unmarked, secret door, hipster French guys, fancy cocktails, and indoor trees.
We got back to Pascale’s and her husband, Henri, was back from his motorcycle tour of Madagascar (Note: French people travel everywhere and anywhere), and excited to take us for a spin on his own motorcycle. Fun fact: he got it from his neighbor, who was a stunt man in movies like 007. You can say Julia was fan-girling just a little.
Le cinquieme jour: Sacre Coeur, heritage breed poultry, and fromage Lays in Montemartre et Le Pigalle
We big adieu to Pascale et Henri on Day 5 and moved onto our next home, Le Grey, a perfectly located budget hotel that offered clean rooms, a friendly staff, and morning coffee and treats. And yes, our room was comically small with two twin beds, but hey, we were two tall American girls in Paris to live that kind of life. We chose this hotel because of it’s close proximity to one of my favorite neighborhoods, Montemartre, home to Sacre Coeur, hilly streets, and little watering holes, restaurants, and pharmacies throughout. At the base of Montemartre is a semi-sketch area called Pigalle, where Moulin Rouge is located, as well as a bunch of weird sex shops. So there’s that.
We began our day with another lunch experience tres bon at Le Relais Garcon on our way up to Sacre Coeur. Le Relais Garcon is very much a local spot, serving up southern French specialties. I enjoyed a classic French omelette, Julia had a fois gras salad, we split a classique French onion soup, and enjoyed some vin blanc, bien sur. We then spent the day perusing Montemarte and trekking up to Sacre Coeur. This is what I had been waiting for. Since last visiting my family in France when I was 11, the view of Paris from Sacre Coeur was engraved in my memory, and to see it again immediately took my breath away. It may or may not have brought a tear to my eye. It was a clear day, fresh from the rain the day before, so we were able to enjoy the views both inside and out of the basilica. After enjoying Sacre Coeur, we leisurely made our way through the windy streets of Montmartre, and stopped in in several art galleries and small shops. Shocker: I could not pass up a Bob Marley print by French artist, Shaz, in one of the local galleries. We also stumbled upon the classic restaurants, La Maison Rose and Le Moulin de La Galette, scene of the famous Renoir painting, Bar du Moulin de la Galette. Nothing like accidentally finding the things you wanted to see, but didn’t necessarily want to seek them out.
Eventually working up an appetite for dinner, we were excited to venture to a tres trendy restaurant in Montemartre recommended to us by Andres, le coq rico. “Le coq rico” loosely translates to something along the lines of the delicious rotisserie chicken (which is apparently a big thing in France… Where’s all my rotisserie chickens, Meme?!). with Le Coq Rico being the new farm-to-table Parisian hot spot per Andres, so we were advised to make reservations. We felt v cool and v welcome here, as the service was outstanding and easy on the eyes (hon hon hon, merci). Le Coq Rico’s philosophy is based on offering humanely raised “heritage breeds”… which I think means old AF… of poultry. Read more about that here. We went all out, ordering the pan-seared duck, rotisserie chicken, macaroni au gratin, salad, and one of the most impactful desserts of my entire life: l’ile flottante (translation: floating island), which is a soft meringue “floating” on creme anglaise. I will never forget you, ile flottante, and I am not even a dessert girl. We topped it all off with some cognac (by now, we are feeling v French) paired with some complimentary chocolate truffles. Andres did not steer us wrong! Merci beaucoup!
We then went for some post-dinner pharmacie perusing on our way back to le Pigalle to check out a bar recommended by Andres called Baton Rouge in an area that is in the midst of gentrification. Baton Rouge was a mix between NOLA charm, dive bar, and tiki bar all in one. The bartender quickly became our friend, and shared their homemade bacon whipped cream (quoi???) which tasted exactly how it sounds. We had some strong ass tiki drinks then made a pit stop at a liquor store to pick up some vin blanc and Fromage Lays for a late night snack.
Le sixieme jour: Becoming internet sensations and the hunt for Vejas in Le Marais
We had a long day ahead of us, and an even longer metro trip back to Le Marais to film an AirBnB experience with Julia’s friend who was there for a shoot (I know, I know, we’re famous. And no, I can’t link to it because it looks like the video isn’t on AirBnB’s site, so I guess we aren’t internet sensations yet…). Long story short, we got free lunch and $50 Airbnb credit to get filmed going on an Airbnb Experience: Vintage Clothes Shopping in Le Marais. Cool enough. First stop was Chez Janou, a classic, cozy brasserie where Julia got escorted in by a flamboyant waiter holding her purse over his shoulder, and I enjoyed some more fish. After meeting our production crew, we hit the streets with the Parisienne fashionista, Faiza, in her vintage Versace pants and all. For me, it was mostly pretending to vintage shop because I find in-person shopping overwhelming in general. This was also the first day of our trip that it was supposed to rain, so we were on a mission to get some good footage walking the sun-filled streets. Good thing we got our IG practice at Gallerie Lafayette earlier in the week.
After a couple hours of pretending to vintage shop in Le Marais, Julia was hellbent on checking out the Picasso museum and getting a pair of Vejas IN Paris, while I was overdue for an aperol spritz . With that, we walked over to the Picasso museum and arrived 30 minutes before it closed (oh, darn!), which turned out to be juuust enough time to get a feel for the place. We finally experienced our rainy Parisien afternoon, Julia’s canvas sneakers were soaked (OMG, my faux leather Clarks came in handy), and we refueled on spritzes and frites before heading to the nearby Vejas store to replace the canvas sneakers. Success!
After a loooooong metro ride back to Le Grey, with like, 5 different connections, we recouped and mustered up the energy to walk up Montmartre for dinner, to, you guessed it, a Thai place! I was ready to take a break from the smoked salmon, and Julia was ready to take a break from the fois gras, so we came across La Brasserie Thai online and made a reservation that same night. It ended up being an AMAZING Thai spot up one of the windy, steep streets in Montmartre. The food and service was memorable in a good way, and it felt so good to go IN on some Thai. Downfall of the night: Julia decided to break in her new Vejas to walk about two miles round trip up and down hills. Upside: we had to stop for bandaids on the way home, so another excuse to check out some face products at a pharmacie. Did we grab some more Fromage Lays at the liquor store? Cannot confirm nor deny…
Le septieme jour: No-line-Novembre (kinda), le croque monsieur, and French language immersion a la Cave de Gaston Leroux
Nothing is more majestic than showing up to a museum at 11am on a beautiful, sunny day… and seeing the maze of red ropes outside with NO line. Not seeing a soul in line made me the happiest California French girl in the world, and was amped to get into the Musee d’Orsay and watch Julia revel at art. Van Gogh, Renoir, Manet, oh my!
After about two hours and of course a trip to gift shop, it was time for lunch and more white wine. I had my own personal Paris bucket list, and one item in particular was still pending: a real croque monsieur. So, I searched nearby on the handy dandy TripAdvisor and we headed a couple blocks away to a little brasserie, Le Drop Cafe. My croque monsieur was oozing with béchamel, cheese, and indulgence, and was everything I was waiting for.
Also on our agenda: Top of the Eiffel Tower. We were feeling confident and ambitious after the no-line experience at Musee D’Orsay, so we thought we’d show up and be escorted right to the top. Wrong. There was a three hour wait to get to the top, and it was a chilly, windy 50 degrees, so we figured it was alright from the ground that day. We’ll be back to Paris many times in our lives, probably with significant others, so we rationalized walking away from it. Instead, we decided it was a beautiful day to check out the Champs Elysees, specifically, the pharmacies on and around the Champs Elysees. We still hadn’t obtained all our wish list items, namely: Nuxe (pronounced NuuuuuuuUUUXE) hair oil, anything with glycolic acid, anything anti-aging, anything with retinol, anything that we read would give us eternally youthful, glowing French skin. We shopped around for a bit. I concluded the Champs Elysees was too touristy and in general, actually not v French at all. Get us back to Montemartre!
Yes, it was that time again: wine. Perusing the streets of Montmartre for more pharmacies, we stumbled upon le Vrai Paris, where we enjoyed some rose and accoutrements like olives and salami. That got us feeling v French once again, and recharged to walk the cobblestone streets of Montmartre back down to check out an Italian place near le Grey Hotel in la Place de Clichy: The Little Italy. This was clearly a trendy local spot with the typical slow service we grew to appreciate. The pasta was served in full-on pots, was quite delish, but for some reason a bit lukewarm. We still ate it all considering we probably burned over a thousand calories and traversed more than 9 miles throughout the city this day. Oh, but it wasn’t enough…
Although it was chilly AF - probably around 40 degrees F - we weren’t ready to call it a night just yet. Earlier that day, we spotted a Phantom of the Opera-themed hole in the wall wine bar (and I mean HOLE in the wall) up in Montmartre. Being the huge Phantom fan she is, we had to get Julia in there. So we show up at La Cave de Gaston Leroux around 10pm and are warmly greeted by Madame Veronique Leroux, relative of Gaston Leroux, author of Phantom. We’re the only ones in there so we peruse all the Phantom-themed relics. There was even the Phantom red from Bogle Wines (how did that get there?!). Dolls, posters, books, photos, masks (of course)… there was a lot to see. It was clear people bring Phantom items from all around the world. So, we saddle up to the bar with Madame Veronique behind the bar, pouring us whatever red wine she has. We quickly find out she does not speak ANY English. This is where my Franglais comes in. I got more French practice this one night than I have my entire life. Feeling. V. French.
La huitieme jour: Super fancy lunch a la Grand Epicerie Paris, sunset at the Luxembourg Garden, et Bateaux Parisiens
Our last day in Paris was some seriously fancy French sh*t, now that I think about it. We divided up our trip planning by arrondissement for the most part, and today was the 7th. I read about a very beautiful grocery store and wanted to check it out: La Grande Epicerie de Paris. It ended up being…. beyond. I have pictures in my phone of the fancy pastas, cutlery, and the fanciest restaurant of our trip: La Table, suspended in the middle of the store under a huge atrium. Our excuse for eating somewhere $$$: it’s our last day in Paris, pourquoi pas?! Here, I had the best lentil soup of my life, and we had the best, fanciest cafe gourmand of the trip. We were feeling v fancy French at this point. And still, the wine was only 5 Euros per glass! This is a lifestyle I can get behind: getting your $$ worth in food and saving on alcohol (we have that backwards in the US…).
We then walked over to the Jardin du Luxembourg and WOW! I am totally not a “seasons” person; give me 75 and sunny yearround, but this trip to the gardens (merci, Julia) gave me an appreciation for Fall that I’ve never had before. It was absolutely spectacular. Here’s a chance for me to stop writing and just start showing the pictures that don’t even do it justice. INCROYABLE!
Another spectacular accidental church moment, Eglise Saint-Suplice, near the gardens.
We had some big plans on the last night, compliments of Pepe: the river cruise dinner on the Seine. We freshened up and headed down to the Eiffel Tower where the Bateau Parisien was waiting for us. We are giddy with excitement to be served unlimited wine while enjoying the views of the city from the Seine. Funny story though. Our reservation was for the night before. So we get to the boat to board and they break the news to us (I had realized it prior, but was pretending to be caught off guard). The woman tells me they have ONE table left with a window view, and it’s ours. AKA, we got lucky. She said it happens all the time, and we are relieved to hear we aren’t the only ones confused about our excursions (I did this same thing a couple months prior in Jamaica.. travel brain).
We get on the boat and are seriously stoked. Our waiter, Sebastien, was everything and more, entertaining us to death and would not stop pouring our wine. I remember the food being good, vaguely, and thinking it doesn’t hurt to be touristy sometimes.
FIN
