We spent two and a half days in Paris with almost no itinerary besides walking until something caught our attention.
Most of our time unfolded between Le Marais and Île Saint-Louis — wandering narrow streets, stopping at cafés with only a little research (turns out we were staying next to one of the best creperies in the city!) and following whichever road looked prettiest in the evening light. There was something freeing about not trying to “do” Paris properly. We weren’t chasing reservations or rushing through landmarks. We just let it happen.
And Paris really rewards that kind of wandering.
We became completely obsessed with ordinary moments there. People carrying flowers home for dinner. Bikes flying through intersections. The glow of warm light against pale stone buildings and black iron balconies. Everywhere we turned felt accidentally cinematic.
Our Airbnb sat six flights up, which felt mildly cruel after long days of walking, but the window opened to views of both the Eiffel Tower and Notre-Dame. We stood on a small chair and stared at the skyline every night. No matter where we wandered, one of them always seemed to reappear between rooftops and chimneys!
The Louvre was striking and beautiful, but instead of standing in endless lines to go inside, we gravitated toward gardens instead. I love a good patch of grass, which Ryan thinks is hilarious, but turns out Parisians are more bench-sitters than grass-sitters. That was a sad realization but we adjusted!
Corner cafés quickly became our favourite part of the day. We would sit outside pretending to understand menus, doing a terrible job of ordering in French and somehow always ending up with a sweet treat on our plates. How did that happen? 😉 To every patient Parisian server we encountered: merci for bearing with us!
We ate pastries under striped awnings, wandered through side streets with absolutely no destination and spent hours on Île Saint-Louis simply watching people pass by. Some of my favourite memories are honestly the least remarkable ones — sitting along the banks of the Seine, listening to an accordion player on a bridge or walking with nowhere urgent to be while the city slowly shifted into evening.
Two and a half days somehow felt both incredibly short and strangely long enough to settle into the rhythm of the city.
I think that’s what surprised me most about Paris this time around. The magic wasn’t really in the landmarks. It was in everyday life there — the slowness, the beauty tucked into ordinary routines, the feeling that even small moments deserved time and attention.
No packed schedule. No rushing. Just long walks, gardens, pastries and my husband’s hand holding mine.
And honestly, I can’t imagine a better way to experience Paris than that.
