“Where can I go for a romantic afternoon/evening in Paris?” Few questions are as challenging to answer and yet I find myself confronted with it time and again. I struggle with the idea of city-specific romance, and more specifically Parisian romance, because it is so subjective and personal. And the weight of Paris as a place means the possibilities are truly endless. The very name of the city is enough to summon fantasies of a romanticized, bon vivant life: Seine-side strolls, languid meals with bottomless glasses of wine, picnics on the Champs de Mars as the sun descends and the Eiffel Tower begins its hourly sparkle. Romance in Paris hinges on a series of experiences that are contrived to fulfill an expectation. Like the way I once told myself that to feel Rome as lovers must, I had to whip around town on a ruby red Vespa. The reality is, I’m terrified of scooters and found myself more uncomfortable than romanced. I forced a scenario that I believed would produce a desired outcome. Instead of willing it to fruition, I believe in letting the city ensorcell with its own natural gifts.
So when Eurostar asked me to describe my favorite romantic spot…
