A candid, slightly blurred shot from inside a Parisian café, looking out a rain-spotted window at people hurrying past under grey clouds on the street, a half-finished espresso cup on the table in the foreground, captured with a smartphone
A close-up, authentic photo of a smartphone screen resting on a café table, showing a train schedule app with options like Lyon, Marseille, Strasbourg, and Loire Valley, with a faint reflection of the café interior in the screen
A spontaneous shot of a worn travel journal and pen lying open on a café table next to a cooling coffee cup, with the journal showing handwritten notes about Paris destinations and future travel options, natural morning light

Friday morning musings: where to next?

The café window frames a quintessentially Parisian scene - people hurrying past under a blanket of clouds, the occasional burst of animated French conversation drifting in when the door opens. I've claimed the same corner table for the third morning in a row, arriving at 8:50 for their 9:00 opening. The owner just nods now, no longer surprised to find me waiting outside.

It's day 31 of this journey. One month on the road. The realization sits strangely with me this morning as I sip my espresso (which is good, but lacks the proper intensity). One month gone, nearly sixteen to go. The numbers feel both enormous and insignificant simultaneously.

Paris has been revelatory in ways I didn't expect. The contrast with Bruges couldn't be more stark - from medieval intimacy to grand boulevards. From the Louvre's endless halls to the eerie quiet of the Catacombs, from Montmartre's artistic spirit to yesterday's flea market festivities, I've barely scratched the surface of what this city offers.

Yet I feel it again this morning. That familiar restlessness. The urge to move on.

My coffee has cooled as I've been lost in thought, staring at the train schedules on my phone. The weather app shows 11°C outside - chilly but manageable. The forecast suggests it might warm up to 14°C later, with the clouds breaking up this afternoon. Not exactly beach weather.

Perhaps that's part of what's pulling me. The desire for sunshine, for warmth. September is fading, and with it, the last reliable warmth of southern Europe. If I'm going to chase the sun, I should do it soon.

The options spread before me like branches on a path:

  • South to Lyon, known for its culinary excellence
  • Further south to Marseille and the Mediterranean coast
  • East to Strasbourg, with its unique Franco-German character
  • West to the Loire Valley and its châteaux

I've checked off most of my Paris must-sees: the Louvre and Mona Lisa, Montmartre and Sacré-Cœur, Luxembourg Gardens with its magnificent old chestnut trees, the Catacombs, Sainte-Chapelle's stained glass, and countless pastries from neighborhood boulangeries.

Only the Eiffel Tower remains unchecked. I had hoped to visit at sunset for the perfect photos, but the weather hasn't cooperated. Maybe today will be the day, with the forecast showing clearing skies by late afternoon.

But then what? Where to next?

I've learned something important this past month: the 3-4 day rhythm works for me. Long enough to get beyond the surface, short enough to maintain momentum. Paris has been wonderful for 5 days, but I can feel myself getting comfortable. Too comfortable. The whole point of this journey is to keep pushing myself into new experiences, new perspectives.

The café is filling up now. Two businessmen at the next table are having an animated discussion about something called "le deadline" (the English word sticks out in their rapid French). A young woman sketches in a notebook by the window. The barista works with practiced efficiency.

I need to decide soon. Book a train. Set the next destination. The thought both excites and exhausts me.

For now, I'll finish this coffee, pay my bill, and head back out into Paris. The Eiffel Tower awaits, and after that... well, I have about 469 days to figure it out.

Posted from a café near Saint-Michel, 11:10 AM