Paris in February

Feb 16

I won’t pretend that every trip is all smiles. Some have been sleep-deprived, some moments just meh. Sometimes, I simply sat with my thoughts. Travel isn’t an escape from life—it’s life, just in a different place. We justified the extra croissants, got lost more times than we’d like to admit, and occasionally bickered over the little things. Some nights felt light and carefree; others, reality caught up with us. But in the end, the wins always outweighed the losses.

When my sister flew to meet me in Paris for a long weekend, the pressure was on—so much to see, so little time. The sun was out, the city buzzing. We let go of the idea of a perfect trip and embraced something better. We caught up while lounging in some of France’s most beautiful parks, soaking in both the scenery and overdue conversations. It wasn’t just the sights or the food that made it memorable—it was the rhythm of the city itself. The cafés, with their tightly packed tables, pulled us into unfiltered conversations. The winding streets and sprawling gardens seemed designed for reflection.

We wandered through the Picasso Museum, strolled through the Jardin des Tuileries, and waited in line for the best restaurants, just like the locals—huddled in the cold, deep in conversation, as the city moved around us.