30-Day Solo Travel in Europe | Day 8: My First Day in Paris - The Gift of Solitude

(Previous chapter of my journey: 30-Day Solo Travel in Europe | Day 7: Rembrandt's 'Night Watch' & Dutch Golden Age)

The morning light had yet to shine when the thunderous snoring of the British guy in the shared dorm woke me up around 4 or 5 am. Surely everyone was all awakened except the snorer himself, who was lost in his own dreams. Even with the help of earplugs and eye mask, I still suffered from two consecutive nights of poor sleep. Well, they were obviously not prepared for this magnitude of snores. The Vietnamese auntie began playing videos aloud from her phone, like her own way of protesting her sleep being disrupted. I rose and began packing slowly in the hazy dawn, bidding a silent farewell to Amsterdam.

After a quick, warm coffee, I dragging my luggage (and myself) to Amsterdam Central Station. The train moved steadily toward Paris. Traveling between European countries felt remarkably convenient, without even a passport check. When my feet finally touched the platform of Paris Noord station around half past twelve, everything felt somewhat surreal to me.

Completely new to this country, I cautiously guarded my belongings like a tensed up squirrel. Before I started this trip, all my friends had specifically warned me about Paris' notoriety for theft. Though I looked like a poor, penniless traveller (which is a factual description), I couldn't risk losing any of my belongings, especially as a solo traveller. But as I observed those around me, everyone else seemed completely at ease. A young girl scrolling through her phone in the metro, an elderly man carry his backpack at the back as usual. I looked even more awkward by being extra cautious so I allowed myself to relax a bit.

I finally reached my serviced apartment on a quiet street corner. The moment I opened the door, I could almost cry. Compared to the cramped Dutch hostel, this was like a dream apartment, perfect for solo travellers even though it was located far from downtown area. I was elated to have the entire space to myself, complete with full kitchenette and spotless bathroom. I had plenty of room to unpack my luggage properly, where every item find its own place within my easy reach. Standing by the window, I took a moment to enjoy my solitary time.

After settling in, I headed to the Musée d'Orsay for my first artistic rendezvous in Paris. While somewhat confused by the metro routes, I couldn't hide my excitement, managing to arrive with just an hour and a half before it closed. I could finally meet the Impressionist masterpieces I'd been dreaming of. To be honest, I couldn't fully explain why I'm so drawn to Impressionism. Perhaps it's that ethereal quality between reality and dreams, the way those delicate brushstrokes and colour usage gives me a new lens to see the world.

The museum's collection was magnificent. During my visit, it had a special exhibition dedicated to Degas and Manet. Unfortunately, with so little time to spare, I could only stay for awhile. In the final half hour before closing, I rushed to the Impressionist gallery on the fifth floor. I was almost speechless when I saw those familiar works that I once saw on art textbooks. Van Gogh's Starry Night Over the Rhône immersed me in its deep blue riverbank with warm starlight; Renoir's Bal du moulin de la Galette transported me to a lively 19th-century French dance party; Degas' The Ballet Class captured the grace of ballerinas on tiptoe...They whispered the distinctive Impressionist romance.

After the museum closed, I wandered aimlessly along the Seine. It happened that my phone had no signal in this area. I thought: 'I'll just explore randomly. The best encounters always come unexpectedly.' Strolling across a stone bridge, the setting sun at Place de la Concorde stretched my shadow long across the ground. Passing through lush green parks, I let the breeze kiss my hair. And half an hour later, I spotted the Arc de Triomphe waiting in the distance, like a beacon lit just for me.

The weather in Paris was warmer than in the Netherlands. Yet, the evening breeze was still quite chilling. I tightened my dark green coat and felt my scarf flutter in the wind. My nose turned red because of the cold, but I didn't want to leave this beautiful view so soon. Only when street lamps began lighting up one by one did I reluctantly start my journey returning home.

Nearby my apartment, there was a small patisserie on the corner with its cupboard displaying exquisite pastries. I finally chose a savoury quiche and a chocolate tart with strawberries. I carefully carrying them home with joy. What I loved most about my serviced apartment was its fully equipped kitchen. I set up a decent, romantic dinner date for myself: putting my desserts on a ceramic plate, pouring myself a glass of sweet wine. At that moment, I felt that 'I am alone. Yet, not lonely.' The Parisian sky outside my window didn't turn deep blue until half past nine.

After taking a shower, I curled up under the soft duvet and whispered goodnight to Paris: 'Bonne nuit, Paris.' May my dreams be filled with beautiful stars.

Vincent van Gogh. Starry Night Over the Rhône

Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Bal du moulin de la Galette.

Edgar Degas. The Ballet Class

Claude Monet. Woman with a Parasol

My journey continues: 30-Day Solo Travel in Europe | Day 9: From Monet's Water Lilies to Rodin's Gates of Hell