Paris – The City of Love

The first time I went to Paris I lived the typical romantic and idealistic image that most people have in their minds when they think about the city of love.
I was only 18 and my girlfriend, Emma, was 17. We’d been seeing each other for over a year and, with some trepidation, her parents finally agreed to us going away together for a long weekend during the spring holiday.
We stayed in a small, family-run hotel on the outskirts of Paris. Breakfast, for me, was the most enjoyable meal of the day and an experience I’ll never forget. The café au lait was the size of a soup bowl and the croissants so fresh that they melted in my mouth.
Naturally, we did the tourist stuff: the Eiffel Tower, Champs Elysees , Notre Dame and La Louvre. But what I most remember was the time we spent walking around the streets aimlessly, marveling at the captivating inner-courtyards and gardens, the spring flowers exploding with colour and fragrance.
I've been back to Paris several times since then, but nothing compares to that first taste of the City of Love.

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