Paris

With the boat show wrapped, we hopped our way back to Paris, with a couple of days to fill/kill before the book launch event in London.

We found a tiny (and I do mean tiny) room with a balcony that had a view of the Eiffel Tower. Funny how something you've seen in photos and videos a million times can still be impressive. Stepping out onto the balcony, city shimmering below us, all rooftops and bustle and golden haze — the kind of romantic chaos you'd imagine Paris to be.

Turns out the room was on the other end of an even more impossibly tiny hotel elevator. Two people? No way. This thing was built for a single person with a single bag only. But we managed to cram Jen and both bags inside, and I sprinted up the stairs to help pry her out on the other side - just in time to catch her with a laugh and a suitcase elbowing her ribs. True love is measured in stair sprints and suitcase extractions, right? Also worth noting… there is nothing about boat life that keeps you in stair-running shape.

We later figured out how to cram two people in with no bags — also tight — but hey, it is the city of love after all. ;)

We just took it in and gave ourselves a night to watch the sunset and the lightshow on the tower before trying to get ourselves to leave the room at least once/twice a day to fight the crowds and see the sights. I know you think I’m kidding, but our reclusive brains are in full-on panic mode now... these cities are packed with people, and we’re simply doing our best not to curl up into the fetal position and hide away in the room.

Maybe the weirdest part for us — this is our first hotel room stay (short of a quick airport layover in AUS). We typically book through Airbnb or similar apps so that we can have a kitchen at our disposal. First, Jen loves to cook (and lucky me, she’s a magician in the kitchen). Second, it simply fits our lifestyle and social habits better than having to eat all meals out (to say nothing of our budget). Having a hotel room means more work — especially true in France, where takeout hasn’t really become a part of the culture.

After years of living on boats/vans (with our home on our back and always having our entire life/amenities with us), the structure and unfamiliarity of hotel life feels jarringly formal. No kitchen. No retreat space. Nowhere to unpack the rhythm we’re used to.

Paris is without doubt a lovely town, which I’m certain doesn’t exactly need reporting — but it was fun to tour the city and remember what “normal” tourism/travel looks like to most people.

We’d already started seeing the value in really affordable (but good) wine and great food in southern France while at the boat show, and no doubt that continued through our time in Paris. (Though most of our meals we took back to enjoy in the quiet of our own balcony after a day of exploring.). Croque monsieur and Champagne while waiting for the Eiffel tower to light up. Done!

We were also pretty focused on sightseeing and shopping here (with the occasional long walk to try and find a burrito/taco... I mean, we gotta stay true to ourselves, right?)
Shopping is interesting task for self-proclaimed minimalists — especially those who can barely close their carry-on bags as it is.

We got lucky in AUS, with its superb second-hand stores — and nabbed a suit and a sequined dress for almost nothing. So we were feeling mostly ready for our red carpet affair in London. But we hadn’t yet found shoes, despite several attempts.
It’s a strange thing — hunting for formalwear when your still getting used to not being barefoot. Trying to stay light while preparing to be seen in an all-too-public way. But life keeps throwing us into moments that ask for both...

No worries, we thought — Paris will have us covered. We set aside our last day just for that. Shopping for (fancy) foot prisons.

We got up Thursday, grabbed an Uber to the street Jen had already researched with copious shoe-shopping options, and we were thrilled when we hit the street at the lack of crowds.
“Early bird gets the worm (and the comfort of not being shoulder to shoulder even in downtown Paris),” we thought.

But as we tried the second and then third shop — all with doors locked — something started to feel amiss. Turns out our well-planned and reserved day just for shopping… was (of course) on a national holiday.

Well played, team. Well played.

Looks like we’ll be showing up at the red carpet event (that we traveled halfway around the world to get to) and speaking onstage — barefoot.

Lucky for us, that is at least mostly on-brand for us... so we’ll just walk confidently in the right direction.
Adding that to our list of hilarious last-minute shopping stories, I guess... Paris didn’t give us shoes, but it gave us a story. And honestly… what better accessory is there?