Decision-making in Paris

I’ve come across many variations of the sentiment ‘You could spend years in Paris and not see everything’, so when visiting a city where analysis paralysis is always a possibility, how did I narrow down my options?

First of all, I looked for attractions close to my accommodation, in the 12th arrondissement. Paris’ official tourism website informed me that the Museum of the History of Immigration was on the edge of the district, reachable by a walk of about 25 mins. The theme of this museum appealed to my long-standing interest in immigration, anti-racism, French culture, anthropology, sociology and history. Visiting would be consistent with my values of supporting multiculturalism and educating myself on controversial issues. Furthermore, it was off the beaten path, meaning fewer other travellers to compete for space with. A decision was made.

Looking at the map, I realised that the 12th shared a border with the 4th, which meant that I could easily reach it by public transport. Thanking my luck, I resolved to spend all my free time there.

As you already know, I had a travel companion, my Dad. I took his preferences and needs into account, so we spent one of our first days walking from the Louvre to the Champs-Elysées, choosing a café/bar on the famous road and watching everybody go by, and finally dining at a fancy restaurant there called Fouquet.

I had a recommendation from my Mum, who once spent a month in Paris, of visiting the Petit Palais. I had decided before setting foot in Paris that I would prioritise this sight, as it resonated with my values of viewing beautiful fine art. 

Mum had also spoken favourably of the Carnavalet Museum, and, upon doing my own research on the 4th arrondissement attraction, I realised I was curious enough about the history of the city to prioritise it. Its position off the beaten path added to the appeal.

Finally, I had the vague idea of locating the Place des Vosges, which I was able to actualise, following a sign chanced upon while doing the flâneur thing.

And there you have it. My four full days in the megacity encompassed a kaleidoscope of experiences, leaving me grateful for this opportunity to revisit the city that looms large in so many imaginations, and have a distinctively Epiphanie time there.

A Memory of Hamburg

I had planned to take my time wandering around HafenCity's little commercial hub before selecting the most appropriate restaurant, but suddenly rain started quickening my pace and saw me dart into the nearest open eatery. 

This turned out to be a franchise, Katzentempel, which served vegetarian or vegan food, while providing customers with the company of freely roaming cats. I seem to remember that the cats had been former strays. They looked healthy and comfortable in the invitingly warm space. 

I was worried about the rain drenching me on the way back home, but I tried to find a little solace in the obvious contentment of the felines. There were three or four of them, and the two that wandered my way were grey, and orange-and-white. I watched a fair youngster with a nasal piercing stroke the radiant creature at their feet. I could see the steady rhythm of the cat's breath through its body, and thought about both living beings being changed for the better by this experience. 

I was served a 'Rainbow Bowl', which featured mock chicken and sliced mango (among other brightly coloured items of vegetables and protein) on a bed of rice. I wondered how often the cats were treated to morsels from the diners, and whether this was discouraged. Although I couldn't finish the sizeable portion, I left it on the table (so as not to contribute to overfeeding). 

I hadn't intended to come back to Hamburg as soon as 2024, but my parents had been curious about it after viewing my photos of the Town Hall, and incorporated the northern city into their European Summer plans. I revisited that site with them, and saw it from a new angle (this time with rain). But the Katzentempel stands out as a truly novel, serendipitous experience. 

After paying I lingered in the pleasant space, hoping the rain would stop, or at least ease up. Nobody seemed to mind. The orange-and-white cat lay down close to me, so I bent down to give it a pat. There was something soothing about it, but mostly I was anxious at the prospect of getting drenched, so I felt like I was reaching for a transcendent moment that never quite arrived. 

Instead of offering just one concept, Katzentempel offers two: Cat Café meets Health Food Restaurant. You can find out more about them here. 

Why I prefer Hannover to Paris

I got into the Parisian spirit, sashaying around new sights (like the 12th arrondissement, the Petit Palais and Musée Carnavalet) and old (Le Marais and the Champs-Elysées) alike, and finding that I prefer Paris over London (just like I did in 2008).

But the moment I got off the plane, into Hannover, I felt my mood lift. The freshness of the air! The lesser density of the built environment! People I loved, and community members who were often friendly to me!

I’m not the only travel blogger who finds this underrated Northern German city friendly, yet when it comes to other visitors, they are delightfully scarce in all but the most central of places. Even in summer, I am usually the only non-German in my neighbourhood.

I haven’t spilt much ink on Hannover, in part because I wish to protect the privacy of my friends there, in part because it’s difficult to distill months of experiences into a blog post… and probably in part due to other reasons which might be articulated later. 

I’m one of those people who reads those lists of ‘Most Liveable Cities’ and takes note. Copenhagen, Vienna and Melbourne? I’ll make a point of incorporating them into my travels. London and Tokyo? I may visit, but I’ll feel overwhelmed by the clamour and sheer number of people sharing the space. Paris is perhaps the most relaxed megacity, and it’s possible I may visit again, but Hannover has the wide, inviting streets, an abundance of green growth, a manageable size, user-friendly public transport, affordability (within Germany), and people have more time for you if you need help or extra attention. 

Hannover is a lovely place to spend time in, and I’ve been very lucky to do so. Hopefully I’ll be back there in 2026!

Behind the Scenes of My ‘Le Marais’ Post

Now that I have more time to reflect on my travels, I’d like to share with you little fragments and asides that didn’t make it into my original ‘Le Marais’ post. 

In point form:

a) “I felt like I was a cat chasing a light beam, as I strolled the touristy but elegant backstreets.” 

I was lucky enough to spot a black-and-white cat scratching itself in the middle of a traffic-free street, before returning to its owners in their shop and disappearing from sight.

Before I really got into the flâneur spirit of things, I had some hesitation: was the neighbourhood too touristy to make for good sight-seeing? Would pick-pocketing be an issue?  This led to tension in my body that first morning, but it would dissolve upon becoming familiar with the area and feeling safe and comfortable.

b) “The passing Parisians were few in the morning, making for some nice sensory experiences.”

Apart from scattered pedestrians that were probably on their way to work, I did notice quite a few deliverypeople active in the area, unloading the premium products that people with greater means would eventually consume. Their well-worn and faded fabrics conveyed their working class status. I thought about how they were Essential Workers, who ensured the city was running smoothly, yet didn’t get the appreciation they deserved. Later, I would come across a painting of historical deliverypeople in front of a boulangerie in the Petit Palais, and thought about their valuable service to society.

c) “I enjoyed a café latte there”

It was €6.

d) “a small restaurant for Tunisian street food,”

A part of me wanted to mention the Senegalese restaurant ‘Le Petit Dakar’ too, 

but I thought it was best to keep the references simple and uncluttered. I could also have mentioned the Brazilian boutique clothing store, 

or the sushi restaurant, 

the Japanese bubble tea shop, the Museum of Magic, the wine shop and restaurant from the region of the Pyrenees which was staffed by a Moldovan person, the Central Russian Yiddish restaurant, 

Krispy Kreme, Desigual, ‘Kosher Pizza’, the Vietnamese café, the little library with a large map of Paris on its back wall, the statue of a child (or was it an angel) above a body of water, and other discoveries.

e) “a micro-park dedicated to a gay man, the Carnavalet Museum (a pleasure to photograph from outside, and also brimming with beauty on the inside)”

The micro-park was just opposite the Carnavalet Museum, which is about the history of Paris. 

There was a temporary exhibition on Agnes Varda, one of whose films I have seen and enjoyed, but there were so many people queueing to see it that I decided to give it a miss. I would later recognise the name of one of the prominent personalities of Paris represented in the Carnavalet Museum bestowed upon the street I was having lunch on: Madame Sevigné was an upper class person known for their letters during their life-long residence in Le Marais. 

f) “a highly regarded crêpe restaurant where I had a salad with sliced gallette rolls on my first visit and a gallette with foie gras on my last”

At La Ciderie du Marais, I ordered a ‘Nordic Salad’ which was so good that I had the same dish the next day: the gallette rolls were filled with smoked salmon, cream cheese and lettuce. 

On the third day I remembered a recommendation from my hotel receptionist to try foie gras, and I enjoyed it very much. It had a light beige colour, a smooth and delicate texture, and a subtle flavour. (Unfortunately, I have since learnt that it’s produced in an unethical way, and now I will think twice about having it again.)

*

Please note that I will be adding photos to this post in about a week or two! I can’t do this on my smartphone due to some technical complications, but I will be returning to Sydney soon… so remember to come back! :)

Le Marais

Back in Hannover, I can reflect on last week’s 4-day trip to Paris.

Le Marais has been on my list of geographical locales to wander around (or as the French would say, be a flâneur in) for some time… Learning about its existence as the gaybourhood from a film called ‘Paris, Je T’aime’, I first journeyed there in 2008. I hung around in a lesbian bar, where I learned that Parisian queer women also choose to be accountants at a higher than usual rate, like their Sydney counterparts. (I imagine it has to do with financial stability, when other parts of your life offer upheaval.)

Since then, I’d heard that the district (also known as the 4th arrondissement) had gentrified. The internet told me that, while prices had gone up, there hasn’t been a new gaybourhood to definitively emerge, so if I wanted a dose of queer (and Jewish) culture, it was the place to be.

I loved my 2025 trip there more than my 2008 one: I visited in the mornings, when the refracted light rectangles from windows catching the sunshine lay on the tall, pale facades. I felt like I was a cat chasing a light beam, as I strolled the touristy but elegant backstreets. 

The passing Parisians were few in the morning, making for some nice sensory experiences. When I say ‘touristy’ I am thinking about English language signs which were the only language of communication. I entered a small, glamorous café called ‘City of Light’ which seemed particularly beautiful in sleek whites and velvety port pinks. Under-lit and overpriced, I enjoyed a café latte there, while asking the barista about the salads of the area and not meeting with an actionable recommendation. 

Along the way, over three days, I found a Swedish Institute, an educational institution dedicated to environmental sustainability, a small restaurant for Tunisian street food, plaques commemorating Jewish residents who had called Le Marais home until they were tragically abducted and killed by the Nazis, a micro-park dedicated to a gay man, the Carnavalet Museum (a pleasure to photograph from outside, and also brimming with beauty on the inside), a highly regarded crêpe restaurant where I had a salad with sliced gallette rolls on my first visit and a gallette with foie gras on my last…

By the third day I’d invited my Dad to enjoy the neighbourhood with me, and enjoy he did. We found our way to the Place des Vosges, a small, square park with four fountains (one near every corner), and a giant statue of a former king on a horse. Even though it was popular with locals and tourists alike, we managed to acquire a shaded bench to sit on and people-watch from. We had a box of cherries with us, Dad’s favourite fruit, and they were lovely.

I left the park before I’d had my fill of it, due to the sudden influx of American tourists generating uncomfortable levels of noise behind us, but we had time to drop by a few of the many upmarket art galleries surrounding it.

An honourable mention goes to a little courtyard lined with small businesses that I stumbled upon. There was nobody to be seen there, but a sign informed me that it was a little space to be enjoyed in times of greater activity. Additionally, a small, concrete square was lined with restaurants and looked charmingly stylish. A peek inside the most popular one turned up rustic decor with eclectic lamps in all sorts of colours.

Close to the church of St Paul (where the metro gets its name from), I loved to see a store which I had seen in other parts of France, Pylones. I acquired a few things from there, including gifts. There was a patisserie called Miss Manon where I savoured a chocolate eclair on my first day, and an artisan chocolate shop were I tried a sample of something crunchy.

All in all, Le Marais offered pleasurable moments aplenty!

Future Travels?

In the event that I can continue visiting Europe for my holidays, the list of destinations below can act as a guide:

a) Bruges & Ghent

b) Lille

c) Colmar, Strasbourg, Riquewihr, Eguisheim, Freiburg im Breisgau, Baden-Baden

d) Rothenburg ob der Tauber

e) Dresden

f) San Sebastian & Bordeaux

g) The Hague, Rotterdam, Utrecht, Giethoorn

h) Alberobello

i) Taormina, Siracusa, Noto

j) Bolzano

k) Lake Como & Lake Garda

l) Vienna, Hallstatt, Salzburg, Innsbruck

m) Munich, Mittenwald, Füssen & Neuschwanstein

n) Bamberg

o) Regensburg, Augsberg, Würzburg, Dinkelsbühl

p) Siena

q) Bremen*

r) Tomar, Tavira, Lisbon

s) Madeira

t) Corsica

u) Greek Islands

v) Verona

w) Aarhus

x) Bergen

y) Gothenburg

z) Rovaniemi

aa) Palma de Mallorca

bb) Toledo, Segovia, Avila

cc) Cadiz, Sevilla, Granada

dd) Girona

ee) Andorra

ff) Luxembourg

gg) Lichtenstein

hh) Zermatt, Lauterbrunnen, Grindelwald

ii) Basel, Bern

jj) Paris (extended stay)?

* I can see this destination with my friend

Island Life

The architecture is often sandy, pock-marked stone, with boldly coloured balconies jutting out into narrow streets. Valletta is laid out in a grid, allowing air from the Mediterranean Sea to flow through. There is very little greenery, but the capital has a languid charm, the locals persisting in helping the traveller out. The capital is walkable, not much more than a kilometre in diameter at its longest stretch. There are Michelin rated restaurants, catering to a mostly European traveller. You won’t hear many American accents in this part of the continent.

I got to chatting with another solo diner from Ragusa in Sicily, who told me the island has heady notes of Italy. He had come to Malta via the waterways. We watched deliverymen drop off fresh vegetables and potatoes from Italy and Britain to Nenu The Artisan Baker’s, where I had had a traditional bread with anchovies, olives, potatoes and tomatoes sprinkled with herbs. Light on vegetables but a heavy on tradition, the decor of the place was organised around a partially arched ceiling, with accents of pink-red. 

I fell for the unique architecture, which dazzled me in the warm sunlight and kept me guessing with different patterns. Curves abound, and the balconies get asymmetrical often enough to keep me wanting to document the way they pop up.

An elderly clothing store owner taught me how to say Hello in Maltese (which I have but forgotten now), calling me sweetie every so often as he recounted his family’s immigration around the time of World War Two, mused that there are probably a lot of Maltese in Australia (especially in Perth), exclaimed that he couldn’t handle the day-long journey to my part of the world, and complained that visitors to his shop don’t say Hello and Goodbye today, just drifting in and out. Consistent with this sentiment, he made sure to greet me again as I passed by later that day, even though he was in conversation with a group of people. I returned the greeting. 

I have found that the Maltese respond to genuine friendliness in kind, though they seem kind of low in enthusiasm.