Paris has never been projected as a cold city. Always as the romantic one. Having only two days, we hopped on the Paris L’Open tour bus in order to get a clear picture of the city as such. The cold, as we waited for the bus to arrive, was slowly teaching us that it was not a great idea to choose the open first floor of the bus to view the city. Warnings are never enough are they?

As my parents warily chose to sit down in what was closed and warm, we knights (me and my sister) chose the open above. Getting our head-phones into the audio jack was a torture in itself. Gloved hands don’t work great. And un-gloved hands, smell of cold death. For five minutes which seemed to me to be five hours, we sat, like newly wed, no experience Arctic explorers, stuck to each other, relying unconsciously on the little warmth contact could offer. Oh and all this before the bus could even begin to move.

The bus moved. Next to the Opera house and slowly put itself next to the Louvre. And we began screaming. Mine was internal plus external screaming. Only thing, it was all close to mute, you know the cold. And then, a long trail next to the river Seine. We were still cold and the way down was just a feet away, but the beauty of the light mist clad city made us sit there – shivering. And when we finally got down, it was to go into the beautiful Notredame.

And once again, when we got on the bus, we both nodded at each other and sat right up! The cold, it doesn’t do much when you’re in beautiful Paris.


Location: Paris, France

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