Itʼs the the start of fall. The air is just starting to turn crisp, there seems to be a little more color around, and you feel a fresh wave of “new” in the breeze. Somehow even though we are approaching the end of the year, it feels like a fresh start.
Maybe itʼs because fall typically marks the beginning of a new school year, “la rentrée,” for the French. Or maybe because itʼs the beginning of months of celebration with family and friends. Either way, something about the start of fall feels new.
Last weekend was the first weekend of fall in Paris. Even though it did not quite feel like fall yet, my friends and I managed to have, accidentally, the perfect first autumn weekend. So, in the spirit of starting the season of sharing, I would like to share my perfect autumn weekend in Paris with you.
Friday night:
Itʼs the end of the work week, and Iʼm actually able to leave at a normal hour. I catch the metro on the Champs Elysées to meet my good friend in Montparnasse for crêpes. We meet in front of Crêperie Josselin, the most famous crêperie in Paris, where the mounds of butter are bigger than your head.
We stuff ourselves with our usual orders, the Maraîchère, a spinach, crème fraîche, filled crêpe, topped with a fried egg and 3 enormous slabs of bacon, followed by the Caramel au Beurre Salé crêpe, covered in the restaurantʼs homemade salted butter caramel sauce. After finishing our cider and wheel-barreling ourselves out the door, we part ways until our next gluttonous feast.
I hop back on the metro to meet friends at Chez Prune along the Canal Saint-Martin. The group is an international mix of long-term and short-term expats, visiting Americans, Belgians, Danish, etc. Somehow the idea of only having 1 beer and heading home turns into 4 beers, and closing the bar at 2am. We say our goodnights and stumble home, ready to finally have a day with no alarm.
Saturday:
Itʼs a warm, beautiful day, and does not feel like fall. Iʼm on my way to brunch in the 10th with a group of expat women, invited by a woman whom I have never met. We arrive to Les Enfants Perdus in hopes of trying their famous brunch, but must settle for their famous French dishes instead, since brunch is only available on Sundays.
Our conversation centers on our love/hate relationship with being an expat in Paris. We offer professional advice and networking contacts to one another. We all want to grow and fortify our careers in Paris.
After lunch my boyfriend meets me at the vélib stand in front of the restaurant. We pick up two bikes and start riding north towards Parisʼ renowned flea market, Le Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen.
We stroll through the windy passageways, admiring the retro stalls filled with items from antique bars, to vintage advertisements, to life-sized stuffed animals (both real and fake). At some point we stop at a café for giant chocolate milkshakes and espressos. We sit for a while observing chic couples and playful dogs. Not at one moment do we feel like we are in Paris.
We leave the stalls with our hands empty but our stomachs full and pick up 2 bikes to head back into Paris. We park them in front of the Canal and pick up 2 beers at Franprix. We pop open our Coronas and sit along the water waiting for the sun to set.
When the beers are empty, we head north in hopes of grabbing one of Parisʻ most authentic burritos at El Nopal . The typically long line is too long for our growling stomachs, however, so we cross the street to Pomm Resto instead.
A bottle of wine and 2 pizzas later, we finish the night watching Marion Cotillardʼs performance in La Vie en Rose (La Môme, in French) before dozing off to sleep.
Sunday:
Sunday starts with a run along the Berges de la Seine, the new park that opened a year ago giving free range to pedestrians, runners, cyclists, rollerbladers, etc. It fills up very quickly on weekends with wine drinkers and cheese eaters, but early in the morning it is now one of the best places to run in Paris.
After my run I head to the Marais to meet the friend group from Friday night at one of my favorite brunch spots, Café Crème. For 18 euros you get your choice of a hot beverage, fresh squeezed orange juice, an overwhelming pastry basket, your choice of eggs, and either pancakes or fruit salad for dessert. We snag a table in the sun and watch the last of Paris Fashion Week walk by until we cannot eat any more.
Back at my apartment in the 17th I accidentally drift off for a 3 1/2 hour nap (it happens). I wake up to just enough time to put in some laundry, eat again, and read the Paris Vogue September issue before falling back asleep. The perfect end to the fresh start of fall.
