 |
| 2010: Foggy Paris |
This blog is long overdue. And since today marks our Philippines wedding anniversary (the first one was in the US), it felt like the right time to finally write it.
Paris, Finally.
Year 2010. We arrived in Paris on December 29th, the final stop of our escorted European bus tour. It was meant to be just a day tour, a pause before flying back to the US. Instead, we decided to stay three nights because we wanted to celebrate New Year's eve in the City of Lights.
When the guide announced we had reached Paris, I instinctively craned my neck. I was anxiously looking for the Eiffel Tower. I had seen it countless times before, in movies and postcards, but when it finally appeared in front of me, in all it's majestic, over engineered glory, it felt oddly unreal.Familiar, yet hard to believe it was right in front of me
For years, Paris had lived only in my imagination. In dog-eared Rick Steves books. In highlighted Lonely Planet pages. In spreadsheets where dreams were balanced carefully against budgets. And now, somehow, after all that planning and daydreaming, I was there, with the man I care about, and who cared back.
Standing there, I realized this wasn’t just a place I wanted to see. It was a place I had worked toward. Seeing the Eiffel Tower in front of me was mesmerizing in a way that photos never capture. It doesn’t invite commentary; it demands attention. No multitasking, no casual glances. Attention.
 |
| Palace of Versailles |
Landmarks, One After Another
The first place we visited was the Louvre Museum. This is where I found myself unexpectedly stopped in front of the Nike of Samothrace. I wasn't looking for it. It wasn't planned, nor anticipated. So much demanded attention at the Louvre, yet it was the Nike of Samothrace that held me still. Art, I have discovered for the first time, has a way of choosing its moment, and it doesn't ask for permission.
I only scratched the surface but I did see most of the must-sees (yes, including Mona Lisa). When it's time to go back to our hotel to change and prepare for our dinner, I was tired and a bit overwhelmed, but nonetheless, happy. Every sculpture and painting felt like too much and not enough at the same time.
The next day, we headed to Versailles. Versailles was imposing and indulgent in the best possible way. Grand, excessive, unapologetic. Imagination quietly took over as we moved through its halls. It was impossible not to wonder what the parties of that century must have been like.
 |
| Notre Dame |
As I walked through the gardens of the Palace of Versailles, I can't help but wonder how it would be like to glide through them in one of those structured gowns, with corsets tight enough to cause a graceful faint and petticoats so wide they could smuggle an entire Von Trapp family unnoticed. Every step would require resolve, impeccable posture, and the understanding that comfort was never part of the contract.
I find it funny how Versailles prompt that sort of imagining without effort. It doesn’t ask you to observe history from a distance, it pulls you into it, even if its just for a moment. Especially since everything felt designed not just to impress, but to linger.
 |
| getting lost in Paris |
Getting Lost, Intentionally
On the 3rd day, I slipped away on my own. Group tours has its rhythm, but I needed quiet to recuperate from too much socializing. So I woke up early and braved the Paris train system solo. I was set out to look for The Thinker, but got lost instead.
I didn’t mind, though. Getting lost felt appropriate. Necessary, even. A reminder that discovery isn’t always efficient and that some places are best understood without a plan. I always believe that getting lost is how the best places find you.
ice skating, above the Eiffel Tower
Dining Above and Drifting Through
My first dinner in Paris was at 58 Tour Eiffel (update: now Madame Brasserie), on the first floor of the Eiffel Tower itself, elevated in the most literal sense. I’ll admit, I was a bit underwhelmed because the ambience didn’t quite live up to the setting, but the experience is still felt worth having. We were supposed to go all the way to the top, but B managed to lose the tickets. I didn’t mind. The view from where we were was more than enough, and watching kids ice-skate above the city turned out to be unexpectedly entertaining. That part, at least, was a hoot.
 |
| did you notice the address on the building behind me? |
We walked along the lively Champs-Élysées, taking in Paris’s version of the Christmas market. We picked up small trinkets here and there, sampled pastries we couldn’t pronounce but happily ate, and lingered over shop windows dressed for the season. Eventually, the cold won and we ducked into a restaurant to thaw, where I had the most delicious hot chocolate I have ever had. One extraordinary hot chocolate later, I emerged with a new hobby I didn’t know I needed, an entirely self-appointed, hot-chocolate connoisseurship.
On our 2nd night, we dined at Le Ciel de Paris. We hoped for a clear view of the Eiffel Tower from our window table but that night, however, was foggy. No postcard view. Still unforgettable. Paris doesn’t always give you what you expect, but it rarely disappoints.
We managed to squeeze in a Seine River cruise. One of those moments that feels unhurried even when time is tight. A group of college girls nearby were louder than the mood called for, but even that couldn’t quite break the spell. Paris, I have discovered, has a talent for making small annoyances fade into the background.
As we drifted along the river, and passed beneath one bridge after another, I felt a quiet sense of arrival. Each one feeling like both a welcome and a gentle reprimand for how long this trip had been overdue.
 |
| the ring |
New Year’s Eve
It was on New Year’s Eve, standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, that I was proposed to.
Only later did I understand what had been unfolding all along. The restaurants. The river cruise. The timing. B hadn’t been indulging Paris for Paris’s sake alone, he had been waiting, watching and looking for the right moment.
As I found out later on there were several near-misses.
According to B:
"On our first night, dinner inside the 58 Tour Eiffel. I was close to doing it, but it didn't feel quite right. I didn’t love the table, and the moment slipped by. Then there was the plan to go all the way to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but had to abandon that plan when we lost the tickets.
The Seine River cruise nearly did it too, until a group of very enthusiastic college girls behind us drowned out any hope of quiet reverie.
The night at Le Ciel de Paris seemed promising, but I had one condition: the Eiffel Tower had to be visible. Paris, however, had other plans. The fog was relentless.
By New Year’s Eve, our final night in Paris, it was now or never. We were leaving the next day, and I was certain Paris was where I wanted to propose."
The place wasn’t accidental. Neither was the night.
 |
| Philippines Wedding |
 |
| US Wedding |
Epilogue
A long time ago, my dream proposal was simple.
By the beach.
At sunset… or sunrise.
I once allowed myself, briefly, the idea of a Paris proposal but I dismissed it just as quickly. I filed it away as unrealistic and not for someone who felt like an impostor for even imagining it.
I was wrong.
-----------------
This is why Paris will always have a special place in my heart.
It’s true what they say, when one door closes, a window opens, and sometimes with a view you never dared to imagine.
click me for: Paris, Take Two: Tips from My Second Visit
