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Nights in Paris

Thursday, April 20, 2017
Leica Montano
          There's nothing quite like waking up in Paris. It always takes a few seconds before the idea settles in, “Merde! I'm in Paris.” 
          So I snuggle my sheets, relish the moments in our cute, little airbnb in Le Marais, before I get up and continue playing pretend 
          as a well-composed French woman.
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I was sitting in a cafe with no real, concrete plan for the day, too full to finish the petit dejeuner I ordered; not quite ready to take on the city on my own just yet. So I sat, watched the people pass by and eavesdropped into people's conversations, trying to catch the little French I know. 

I had been in Paris for three days already and it was my first time alone in the city of two million. The first couple of minutes were daunting, just me and my thoughts, and memories of people telling me to be very careful, to grab onto my bag always, and to not to go out at night. My mom didn't really want to leave me by myself and only agreed to it two days before she left for Denmark.

So, I was left alone in a cafe by Avenue Carnot, obviously had to foot the bill for brunch. But everything else and anxieties aside, I really had no choice but to step out of comfort and just enjoy every minute of it.

There really was no getting used to Paris. Everywhere I went, I was still mesmerised by everything - the mansard roofs, the river, the cobbled streets, the John Hamon posters everywhere, and even those Midnight-in-Paris-lampposts. Wherever I went, I’d think, “that’s so French,” and I loved it all.

There's this allure that the city exuded that made me feel like I fit in, that even if I didn't understand most of what people were saying, I got it. So the city stole my heart and it could've done whatever it wanted with it.. Probably should've given it to a cute French boy. (smh)

Searching Everything in New York

Friday, January 20, 2017
My sister just got married 3 days prior to our flight to New York, so technically, I was crashing her "honeymoon".

The three of us have gone on trips before. I go because of the free travel, accommodation, and food... but mostly to put my sister on blast 24/7, like most younger sisters do.

This time, I went to New York for me. They were merely tagging along.

Leica Montano

I've always dreamt of New York. You know, live in a brownstone somewhere in West Village, know the metro by heart, and have that perfect meet-cute Mindy Kaling would be proud of.

So, landing in LaGuardia, I was optimistic. I thought of all of the Joe's pizzas I would eat, the strolls I would have in Central Park, and the endless hot-dudes-reading I'd brush shoulders with at the subway. I wanted to experience all things New York and more.

I tried not to think too much of anything up until I was handing in my ticket to board my flight. I didn't want to expect all these things only to be disappointed of its reality. But on the car ride from the airport to our place in Brooklyn, there was really nothing to be disappointed about. I was all heart-eyes emoji and noticed everything we passed by, pointed things out like a 6-year old in Disneyland for the first time.

I remember we crossed the Canal and Bowery intersection in Chinatown and told my sister to play Ho Hey by The Lumineers - told them, those were the streets in the song. "We just passed by it! Look!"

They didn't really care. And much of the trip was like that.

"Look! It's the Richard Rodgers Theatre, where I can't afford to buy overpriced Hamilton tickets." shrug

"Look! It's the bench where The Doctor read Amy's Letter." who?

"Look! It's the FRIENDS appartment!" where? "JK, we ain't no where near Bedford street."

I was in my little world and they were in theirs. Sometimes we'd end up in one bubble like Roberta's in Williamsburg, eating pizza by the outdoor backyard, and we'd all be thrilled... because we could all appreciate a good slice, or three.