Feeling too tired and ravenous for just a croissant, day two in Paris began with a hunt for a Croque Monsieur. Not the healthiest of breakfasts, but certainly filling, and there’s nothing like cheese and grease to set you up for the day. We hopped on the nearest Metro and headed to the Pompidou.
The Pompidou is a very impressive building and you really can’t appreciate the scale until you’ve been all the way to the top. Despite my vertigo, and the feeling my Croque Monsieur was about to make a reappearance, it offered a breathtaking view over Paris. It’s definitely worth a visit for the views alone, and it’s free to visit if you’re under 25. As I was too chicken to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower, this was the perfect way to take in the view of the city from above.
Our free tickets granted us entry to the galleries, but if you’re a real art buff you can pay â‚¬11 and visit the current exhibitions too. We stuck with the free tickets which were perfect. The main galleries are filled with interesting installations, paintings and photos and I really enjoyed it – the whole place has a really chilled atmosphere and it was nice to soak up some culture.
The area surrounding the Pompidou is lined with shops and cafes, so we explored for a while afterwards, stopping to get a Nutella crepe (which I had been dreaming about ever since we arrived.) I love watching the crepes being made, especially as it’s an art form I have never managed to master – give me thick pancakes any day, they’re much easier to flip.
In a happy daze from the Nutella high, we continued to wander around Paris, looking at the shops and my favourite – the pharmacies. I picked up a few really lovely bits which I’ve been eyeing up online for ages. I’d never tried any of the French skincare products before but I can see why people rave about them.
We headed back to the apartment in the evening to get ready for our final night in Paris, accompanied by the remains of our â‚¬4 bottle of wine, because we’re classy. We found a lovely little restaurant in Oberkampf called La Cicciolina, which admittedly wasn’t French, but it looked so good we couldn’t resist. We had cocktails and some of the best pasta I’ve ever eaten. Seriously. I had the creamy truffle rigatoni with parmesan and shavings of black truffle; I lost count of how many times I exclaimed between mouthfuls, “this is divine!” We washed it down with sweet rum cocktails and then headed to Le Perchoir to get another round of cocktails, but this time with a view.
We finished our night in Le 114, which was a lot of fun; we took some rather unflattering photos in the photo booth, danced like lunatics, because hey, we were never going to see any of of the people ever again, and then staggered home to crash out. It was the perfect way to end a great weekend.