The last time I traveled internationally by myself was six years ago. While I've made a few solo trips in the US since then, there's something entirely different and self-affirming about traveling alone abroad. My Philly street sense makes me feel aware enough in most places in the US, but being in another country is a smidge different. It’s a touch more engaged. A next level of solitude can be achieved in an unfamiliar country. A particular genre of mental interiority becomes available when you're so out of place.
This trip developed because I had part of an Iceland Air flight credit from 2020 to use. Given that I have been to Iceland twice, and I wanted to go somewhere other than the original plan (at this time), I looked at Iceland Air destinations. So, Paris. I had never been to Paris; the city wasn't a place I had romanticized or idealized. But, I knew I should visit at some point, as a person who studies history and loves photography.
As I do, I conducted more than a bit of research. A rarity, I asked actual people for recommendations. Apparently, it is challenging to give advice for Paris, but I gleaned a few ideas. Otherwise, I went with my usual travel plan: stay in a safe, busy-at-night neighborhood, book art museums, research restaurants and coffee shops, and find points of photographic interest. Airbnb-wise, I picked spots in the 2nd and the 1st. Both were tiny Parisian apartments; the second one had a small terrace in a six-story Haussmann apartment building next to the Louvre.
I arrived on Friday afternoon, and after checking into my Airbnb, I went to the Louvre since it's open late on Fridays. I figured I'd be tired or not, but if I had a ticket, I'd make myself do something with part of that first day. Also, when I arrived, it was sunny; really, it was one of two times I saw the sun all week. After the museum, I stopped for dinner at a wine bar near my Airbnb.
The next day, on Saturday, I walked to markets, went to the Pompidou, had a long lunch in the Marais, broke my nearly two-year-long vegetarian turn, stopped at a coffee shop, wandered through a paparazzi situation for Paris Fashion Week, and meandered home. I usually walk ten to twelve miles per day on city trips; I try to maximize the daylight hours for photos.
For some reason, I decided to attend a Catholic mass in French on Sunday. While I'm not Catholic, I wanted a familiar/unfamiliar feeling of community in an old church. I found a Gothic church from the 1400s, known for its singing, nearby my Airbnb. I only understood a little of the program (Latin and Italian got me somewhere near a vague sense of what was happening), but it didn't matter. A feeling of the past mixed with stranger status in a freezing cold Gothic church was what I was after. After church, I walked around a seemingly closed but busy city. Things do shut down on Sunday, but people are out. I stopped at L'As du Fallafel on a recommendation, and it was absolutely worth the short wait.
Since I didn't want to spend a whole week in Paris, I broke it up with two nights in Amsterdam. Monday morning, I had an early train ride to Amsterdam. I woke at sunrise to walk to Gare du Nord and settled in for a three-and-a-half-hour train ride. I arrived in Amsterdam and saw just about the only sunshine I would see there; the bright light outside the train station lasted about fifteen minutes. I walked around markets, had a stroopwafel, found a coffee shop to catch up on emails, and then checked into my hotel. Then, I went to a photo exhibit at FOAM (Fotografiemuseum Amsterdam) which brought me to tears. The exhibition, “House of Bondage,” was South African photographer Ernest Cole's work on apartheid. Whereas I've studied apartheid, the photos offered me the details and intricacies of daily life and struggle.
On Tuesday, I had tickets to the Rijksmuseum and the Stedelijk. Both museums were fantastic and filled with art I had never seen in the US. Honestly, the Louvre isn't my style at all, but these two museums had unbelievable collections that kept me wandering for hours. Afterward, I stopped at Mikkeller Beer, had a nice dinner, and walked home in the rain.
The next day after checking out of my hotel, I stopped for coffee, had herring from a street vendor, and found a beer bar in the red-light district. I paused to write my postcards. Then, I took the train back to Paris and walked to my Airbnb in the 1st. With one full day left in Paris, I went to the Musée d'Orsay and the photograph museum, Jeu de Paume, and walked around the Eiffel Tower. After about twelve miles of wandering, I felt I had done my best with Paris. Perhaps I’m set on Paris for a while.
The ability to travel alone is something I never want to lose. Choose your own adventure, every moment. Walk and linger for photos at your own pace. I forged my ability to travel alone in the wake of a difficult breakup. That first experience helped rebuild my sense of self, and for that travel outcome, I am grateful. While every trip doesn't have to be a solo trip, checking in with yourself is good practice. And, sometimes, I have to travel far away to reconnect.
