Friday in Paris: The Wrong Metro Stop & the Best Kind of Mistake

Paris, France  

May 22, 2026  

7:00 p.m.

It’s Friday afternoon heading into Memorial Day weekend back home, or Victory Day weekend here in France, and Paris officially feels like summer.

A few days ago, I was layering sweaters underneath my trench coat and wondering if the sun even existed anymore. Today it’s 82 degrees, bright blue skies, crowded cafés, and that kind of heat that makes the city feel alive in a completely different way.

And honestly? Your girl is sweating. Like aggressively sweating. Which brings me to what may be considered a cardinal sin while in Paris: I went to Starbucks. Now before anyone dramatically gasps over this, let me explain myself. I didn’t go because I suddenly forgot Paris has some of the best cafés in the world. I didn’t go because I wanted familiarity or because I wasn’t embracing the culture. I went because I needed three things desperately: Ice, air conditioning and something cold enough to convince my perimenopausal body that we were going to survive the afternoon.

If you’ve traveled abroad before—particularly in France—then you probably understand exactly what I mean. Americans and Europeans have very different relationships with ice and air conditioning. Back home, drinks arrive practically frozen solid. Here, you get approximately three cubes of ice and a polite smile (sometimes). Which is lovely, but today I needed a drink cold enough to alter my personality.

So there I was, walking into a Paris Starbucks after swearing I wouldn’t do it this trip. And honestly? It was glorious. The air conditioning hit me immediately and felt so good. Then they handed me my drink, a lime refresher loaded with ice  and cold practically feel the cold hit my lips before I even unwrapped the straw. I actually ordered two of them because I wanted to stash one in my refrigerator for later.

I will say, I had a very American moment of confusion when they handed it to me in a paper cup instead of plastic. Which, to be fair, should not have surprised me at all because Paris is far more sustainability-focused than we are in the States. Paper straws, recycling systems, reusable everything, that’s just normal here.

Still, there was something funny about me standing there overheated and disoriented, staring at my paper cup like, “Ah yes. Of course. Europe.” But the drink was cold and the ice was plentiful.

Next time I will search for an ice cream shop, but when I needed something cold, I made it work.

Earlier in the afternoon, I also managed to accidentally get off the metro at the wrong stop because apparently I’ve become a little too confident in my Paris navigation skills.

I stepped off the train thinking, “I know this neighborhood. I’ve got this.” I would like to say: I  did not have this.

I decided not to turn on Apple Maps because I thought I’d recognize my surroundings eventually. Instead, I wandered around for quite a while growing increasingly confused because absolutely nothing looked familiar. I kept searching for landmarks I knew I had seen before, trying to orient myself, but they just weren’t there. Eventually I looked up at the street sign on the building and realized I was not where I thought I was. Which makes sense now considering I was in an entirely different arrondissement. Minor detail. But honestly? I’m really glad it happened.

If I hadn’t gotten off at the wrong stop, I never would’ve wandered through the little streets I found today. I never would’ve seen the flower shops overflowing onto the sidewalks or the beautiful murals painted across the walls. I never would’ve stopped for lunch at a random café or explored a neighborhood I otherwise may never have visited.

That’s one of my favorite things about Paris.

It’s a massive city full of people, cultures, movement, noise, and life; but somehow it still feels intimate. It feels walkable. Discoverable. Like every wrong turn offers you something beautiful if you’re willing to slow down enough to notice it. I think maybe that’s part of what this whole experience has been teaching me lately. Not every wrong turn is actually wrong. Sometimes you just end up somewhere unexpected. Sometimes you accidentally stumble into something lovely. So instead of panicking, I embraced it. I walked. I explored. I let myself get a little lost. And honestly, it turned into one of the loveliest afternoons.

Now I’m back at the apartment writing this entry while sitting on the couch in my bra and underwear because I’m still overheating and that is apparently just my truth these days. And you know what? That’s fine too.

This week has been quieter in some ways, but really beautiful. The weather finally shifted. I took photos in front of the Eiffel Tower the other night that I’m so excited to get back from the photographer. I’ve had wonderful dinners with wonderful conversations and lovely company.

And I keep having these moments where I stop and realize: I’m actually here.

A year ago, it felt like my entire life was slipping through my fingers. I was scared. Uncertain. Exhausted. I had no idea what the future was going to look like or where life was taking me. And now? I’m spending Friday afternoons wandering the streets of Paris. That sentence alone still feels surreal sometimes.

I feel incredibly grateful to be here. Not just because Paris is beautiful, although it absolutely is. But because this trip represents something so much bigger to me. Freedom. Healing. Possibility. Joy returning slowly and naturally instead of being forced.

Tonight I’m going to dinner at a restaurant famous for soufflés — savory soufflés for dinner and sweet soufflés for dessert — which I am so very excited for. I also think it sounds like the kind of whimsical Paris experience people dream about. Our reservation isn’t until 10 PM and we’re meeting for drinks beforehand. I’m really looking forward to it. 

But honestly, as lovely as dinner will be, I think my favorite part of today was getting lost. Because sometimes life reroutes you somewhere you never planned on going. And if you let it, it might end up becoming one of the best parts of the story.

With Love,

Heather