We woke up somewhere over Europe to the smell of actual coffee—not airplane coffee, but good, strong, delicious coffee. They brought around breakfast trays with sausage, eggs, yogurt, muffin and more coffee, and honestly, it was the perfect way to wake up. We had slept surprisingly well in our Delta One lay-flat seats, but still, we were groggy. It was Emma’s birthday, and it felt special to be waking up in the air, headed toward Paris, starting this adventure.
We landed at Charles de Gaulle around 9:00 a.m. and made our way through customs, which was thankfully painless. We were still kind of floating when we saw Younes, our sharply dressed driver, waiting for us with a sign. He loaded our bags into his sleek black van, and off we went.
It took about an hour to get into the city, and as tired as we were, we both sat up straighter when we saw the buildings start to shift—flower boxes, cafés, and that unmistakable Paris charm.
We pulled up to Hôtel Pas de Calais in Saint-Germain-des-Prés around 11:00 a.m., and thank goodness I had booked the room for the night before—we walked right in and checked in without having to wait.
Then came the elevator.
They directed us to this teeny tiny elevator. We got in, hit “2,” and waited. The interior door slid open at our floor, and we tried to slide the outer door open too… nope. It wouldn’t budge. We laughed, jiggled it, tried again, and eventually gave up and rode it back down to the lobby. Still laughing, we told the front desk what happened, and the receptionist just walked over and pulled the outer door open like it was the most obvious thing in the world. French elevators: inner door slides, outer door pulls. Got it.
Our room was small but clean and perfectly Parisian. We claimed our shelves, picked our beds, and unpacked just enough to settle in. Then we laid down for a few minutes before heading to the spa—because jet lag or not, we had appointments.
At 2:30 p.m., we headed to Sensation Spa, thinking we were each getting a one-hour massage. Somehow that turned into two and a half hours of total pampering—and we were not mad about it. We had long massages, then they led us into this peaceful little jacuzzi lounge where we had tea and fruit and just… relaxed. I’m pretty sure I fell asleep at one point. It was exactly what our bodies needed after the flight and the build-up to the trip.
We got back to the hotel around 5:15, feeling like humans again. Earlier, we had asked Valerie (the concierge) for dinner recs—she’d suggested L’AFFABLE, but it didn’t open until 7:30. We had her go ahead and book that for later in the week, but for tonight, we wanted something easier.
So we pulled up OpenTable, found Le Buci, and made a reservation ourselves. It looked charming and had something available early. We grabbed an Uber—no way were we walking in that post-hailstorm cold.
Dinner was cozy and casual. I ordered French onion soup, which immediately landed down the front of my shirt, of course, and then had chicken. Mom ordered something simple. It wasn’t fancy, but it hit the spot.
On the way back to the hotel, we popped into a patisserie and picked up a custard-filled cake to split, and we ate it in the tiny cafe.
And then—such a sweet touch—when we got back, there were chocolates and a handwritten note from Valerie waiting for us.
We climbed into bed completely exhausted, a little punchy, still laughing about the elevator and the soup disaster, and completely in awe that we were finally in Paris.
Emma’s birthday… and the first day of our trip… was one we won’t forget.
Happiness is Possible 