On Saturday afternoon in New York City, my doorbell rang. I ran downstairs to open the door & who did I see in front of me? None other than Miss Nubbenstein, clad in her usual uniform of black & white, with a massive black suitcase!

She came upstairs with me as I put some finishing touches on my suitcase & zipped it up. After kissing Mike, Hank & Dolly goodbye, we got in the car which was waiting, & headed to JFK airport.

Months ago, Nubby & I had decided to fly to Paris & have a stopover in Reykjavik, Iceland, on our way back. The way to do this is to fly IcelandAir, which also meant we had to fly to Reykjavik en route to Paris. We were supposed to leave New York at 8pm, but after an extra hour sitting on the runway (groan!), we were a little late.

This is not me being overly dramatic: our flight to Reykjavik was brutal. Usually, air travel is an experiment in how cold you can possibly get while soaring through the sky in a little silver tube. However, this time, our plane was approximately a trillion degrees! We felt like we were in the tropics, totally unable to cool down, but with the recirculating air drying us out so much that we felt like a simple smile would split our bottom lips in half. Add this to the delirium of not being able to sleep, & captain’s announcements coming in Icelandic–which, if you’ve never heard it, sounds totally wild–& you can only imagine our hysteria!

This is not to even mention the terrible & horrifying food combinations we ingested during the flight. Oh lord. Citrus smoothies, potato salad, oriental mix, dark chocolate apricots, dumplings, noodles… What were we thinking?! Nubby managed to get some sleep, slumped over on her tray-table, while I watched Paris Hilton’s My New BFF through a bleary, fractured eye!

Since our flight was super-late leaving New York City, this of course meant we were super-late getting into Reykjavik. After a record-breaking spin through security, & an Icelandic passport-stamping (complete with monobrowed customs agent!), we raced down the corridor to gate #1. Our flight to Paris was not so long–2 hours & 45 minutes–& we were too excited to sleep.

We watched the sun rise over the Atlantic & I prayed that my paltry French-speaking skills would suffice! (Nubby doesn’t speak a word of French, so it was all on me!)

My suitcase & handbag!

Our arrival was perfection. We landed, marvelled at the retro-futurist architecture (Charles De Gaulle is veeeeery science-fiction-designed-in-the-70s) & found a much-needed bathroom. As soon as we got back to the baggage carousel, we saw our suitcases. Mine is hard to miss: it is BRIGHT EYE-GAUGING PINK & I love it!

We trundled our suitcases outside to a taxi stand. There was no queue. Our driver was very friendly, he & I were able to communicate (success!), & before long we had arrived at our hotel in Le Marais!

Our neighbourhood: Le Marais!

The wall above our bed. Swoon!

As we paid the taxi driver, a guy from our hotel came outside & took our bags inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Nubby looking left & right, up & down the street, sucking it all up with her eyeballs for the first time. She had never been to Europe before, so it was all totally new for her! This was my fourth trip to France, & as we made our way across the street, I felt myself adjusting. Paris is just so delightfully different. I let my New York shell drop away & I breathed in a more relaxed French attitude.

Our hotel turned out to be a fantastic–maybe even perfect–choice. We stayed at the Hôtel du Petit Moulin, which was beyond magnificent. From the polka-dot carpet in the hallway, to the delicious scent which permeates the reception, to the immense illustration by Christian Lacroix above our bed… It was sublime.

The room was a great size, with an immense (RED) bathroom, crowned by a heart-shaped mirror.

Most amazing mirror ever!

After cooing over our room & flopping down on the bed, we were itching to go out & explore, despite our extreme exhaustion. We showered, got dressed, & made our way outside again. But alas, it was Sunday, & Parisians–bless their cotton socks–take their weekends seriously (as they should!), meaning nothing was open.

Even though we were starving, we couldn’t find anything to eat. In between marvelling at the colour & size of the doors of Le Marais, Nubby had an espresso adventure, & we ended up in a tiny convenience store buying our dinner. Pour moi? Sour Cream & Chives Pringles. Pour Nubby? A box of chocolate-dipped shortbread. Very glamorous!

I love this street art in the Marais!

Despite coercing Nubby into drinking both of these–when she never drinks espresso–she still fell asleep at 7pm!

We dragged our carcasses back to Hôtel du Petit Moulin to eat our nutritious dinner & lie down. Almost immediately, we discovered that our hotel had Fashion TV, & thus began our nightly ritual of watching it religiously!

But alas, our very long, very hot flight had taken its toll, & before we knew it, we were passed out, face-down, on our enormous white bed… To be continued!