What can I say that hasn't already been written about Paris? Nothing, I expect, so I will keep my musings to a minimum. Firstly, I will say that I really didn't know what to expect when it came to the streets of Paris. Would Paris be clean, beautiful and romantic? I had heard it would be. I also heard it was dirty and it smelled of urine. I heard traffic was terrible and its citizens rude. I am relieved to say that I, a romantic at heart, was not let down. The streets were clean, the buildings were awe-inspiring and, except for a couple of underground metro tunnels, the city was urine-free.

I arrived during the final days of October, just as the city was beginning to cool for winter. The air was crisp, fresh even. There is something much more clean and fresh about autumn air than spring air, which historically is touted to the be cleanest and freshest air of all. This is something with which I wholly disagree. And the autumn air in Paris did not disappoint.

I travelled around Paris using the Metro. This is the equivalent of London's tubes, or New York's subways. Major cities cannot agree on a common term for this mode of transportation and who can blame them? It does, after all, give them a chance to correct you when you mistakenly say subway in London, or tube in Paris. And you will get it wrong. And they will correct you. Making you feel more like a blubbering tourist, as they feel more like the all-knowing citizens. This is my theory: a one-of-a-kind underground railway term actually promotes social harmony and bonding within a small society while constantly naming "the other", that is, the tourist. Creating "an other" promotes city affinity amongst the locals. So, the metro it was, and just between us, far easier to understand than the London tube. Even in French.

We arrived at Gare du Nord. This is the busiest train station in Europe and the third busiest in the world. Inundated with the sounds of trains, whistles, the smell of fresh pastries and hot coffee, and the sights of people hugging, laughing, crying, and running for trains makes a person feel like a real traveller. The Gare du Nord feels like the travel centre of the universe; the place people congregate to go somewhere; the portal to dreamy destinations. Maybe you have caught a glimpse of it in such movies as The Bourne Identity, Ocean's 12, or perhaps, dare I mention, Mr Bean's Holiday. It is the first and the last place I saw of Paris and has embedded itself fondly into my mind's eye.

Upon leaving Gare du Nord we made our way to our hotel via Metro. We stayed in an Ibus hotel in the Montmartre district. I had never heard of the Ibus hotel chain until then, but I'll have you know that if you want to stay in Europe in an affordable and clean room, and like myself, are too poor for the Hilton and yet too good for a hostel, an Ibus is the way to go. Our hotel was a mere two blocks away from the famed Moulin Rouge and every night the line up to get into it amazed me. Asian people poured out of tour buses and piled into the Moulin Rouge. So, yes, we stayed in an Ibus very near to Paris' red light district, and yet in some strange way it felt a little like home. As I rose from the depths of the Metro tunnels every night into the busy streets of Montmartre with its neon lights and crepe-selling street vendors somehow, I felt safe. It made me feel, as I had felt many years ago as I dreamed from my bedroom in St. Nicholas, that somewhere in the world something really exciting was happening. This time, though, I felt as if I was there. I had finally arrived.

At any time of day the number of people at the base of the Eiffel Tower will amaze and astound you. The flash from cameras is enough to make you feel you're at the Cannes Film Festival. I went to the Tower at night and it was lit up beautifully in yellow and blue with stars representing the symbol of the European Union. Standing in line to get to the top reminded me of my nationality; I listened to conversations in languages from around the globe. Ahead of me was a mother and her son, both who spoke only German, but insisted on asking me questions I couldn't answer. Eventually, they gave up and resorted to smiling at me and I, being the friendly Canadian traveller that I am, smiled back (you may not know this about me, but I can smile in German). Behind me was the Spanish equivalent of Romeo and Juliet. The young boy, while coming up for air from their intense lip therapy, would grin and tell his Juliet things I could only imagine. I was in line for so long, and only had trying to keep warm to do, that I envisioned many scenarios going on between the two: he, the next generation in a long line of matadors fled the country with a travelling gypsy girl who dreamed of horns through his heart or she, a Spanish socialite destined to inherit a Sangria Factory escapes to Paris with the orange picker her father fired weeks before.

But I digress. A mind wanders, and will often waltz, with romance in Paris.

The view from atop the Eiffel Tower, especially at night, is breathtaking. Below you is the Seine with its bridges and boats and beyond it: Paris, as far as the eye can see. It's lights are different from modern cities; if it needed a name I would call it Modern Victorian. It is not loud and obnoxious like some major cities of the world, but rather soft and cozy. The view was well worth waiting in line on a cool October evening.

The Eiffel Tower is just one thing of many to see in Paris. I went to two of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world: Notre Dame and Sacre Couer. Religious or not, travellers should make the effort to see both while visiting the city. I took a walk down the famous Champs Elysees, a world renowned street lined with shopping for every taste and pocketbook. Conveniently placed at the end of Champs Elysees is the Arc de Triomphe. And of course, no Paris trip would be complete without a trip to see one of the world's most mysterious women: Mona Lisa. The Louvre, which houses the mystical lady, also lodges many other works of art, too many to visit in one afternoon. As many people hmmmed and haaawed over pieces that stretched well over 20 feet, pieces that probably took years to complete, I quickly walked through rooms saying, "Oh, that's nice - oh, that's nice too" I'm sure Da Vinci would be so flattered. Once in a while I would even take a picture of a piece that really took my fancy. I thought I'd have more time to really give it a good gander once I was home. Sometimes I really hate tourists like me.

I did make it outside of Paris for a quick look at the Palace of Versaille, however I didn't make it into the palace. Luckily enough one could spend an entire day just on the grounds and still not see everything. There are gardens, man-made lakes and even other smaller palaces, such as the home of Marie-Antionette. Louix the XIV lived lavishly, to say the least. I hope one day to see the inside of his, ahem, home.

There was one other thing I had to do while in Paris. Yes, yes, I visited the churches, the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre. I spent evenings walking around with my Parisian scarf on eating chocolate crepes while discussing existentialism and Simone de Beauvoir. But there was something, just on the periphery of the romantic city I had to see: EuroDisney.

All dressed up for halloween, Eurodisney did not let me down. Although a much smaller version than its cousin in Florida, the Parisian theme park had everything I wanted: great rides, children's musical numbers sang by grown adults, and really, really expensive candy, not even good candy, just terribly overpriced. Eurodisney, although not exactly culturally sophisticated, was just plain good fun. Sometimes a person has seen as many cultural icons as they can. Sometimes a person needs to feel like their stomach just collided with their brain and they might throw up their 12 euro slice of pizza with pop. Sometimes that's okay.

But all October breaks must come to an end and so I had to say au revoir to Paris. For many years to come I will picture myself walking along the Seine passing Parisians selling their wares: paintings, scarves, and miniature Eiffel Towers. I look back at the short time I spent in Paris and it feels as though I was the lead in a romantic movie; in this case the male lead was played by the most romantic city in the world. Its wooing won me over.

And I fell truly, madly, and deeply in love.