My first and only encounter with Paris only lasted about 20 hours. On a long layover between Prague and the US, my friend Brett and I took a long walk to the Eiffel Tower. Quite original. While I wasn’t sure whether the romance of my first experience could ever be improved upon, my second trip to Paris turned out to be quite the success.

Day 1 – October 31

After waging war with one-way streets, rogue buses, changing GPS directions, and general big-city nonsense, we arrived at the Airbnb and were quite pleased with the view. Shortly afterward, we painted our faces for Halloween. As I’ve declared myself a minimalist vagabond, using previously-purchased Joker-themed face paint sounded like the move.

After unsuccessfully attempting to enter the two parties we had planned on attending, we found ourselves dancing in a bar with a Spanish band. It seemed fitting.

Day 2 – November 1

We spent the next day walking around the city in a low-grade drizzle. We took a stroll past the bedroom cathedral, crossed arched bridges over canals, and ate more cheese than I care to specify. I was a bad vegan.

We kept winding our way southward, passing the Centre Pompidou and the remnants of Notre Dame. Walking along the river, I expressed how nice it was to be in Paris, France. Ekaterina wondered why I had to specify the country. What other Paris could I mean?

I started doing a poor Texas accent, explaining I was from Paris, Texas. I considered continuing the charade at a dinner we were attending. The dinner was with five other strangers in a French couple’s house.

After arriving at our host’s apartment, one of the first people we met was actually from Texas. After Ekaterina and I stifled our laughter, I decided I better stick to my actual identity. After various wines and…more cheese, we wrapped up the dinner and said goodbye. I promptly resumed my Texas accent.