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Walked past dozens of boulangeries my first morning and just grabbed the closest croissant. Huge mistake — the difference between a random corner bakery and these places is like comparing frozen pizza to Naples.













Figured I'd just grab some brie at a grocery store and call it done. Then a local took me to an actual fromagerie and I realized I'd been eating plastic my whole life.













Spent too much money on mediocre tourist-trap restaurants before realizing the outdoor markets had better food at a fraction of the price. Kicked myself for not going sooner.













Kept ordering steak frites because it felt safe. Meanwhile the tables next to me were eating things I'd never heard of that smelled incredible. Finally got brave on day five and regretted waiting.













Used to think a good dessert meant chocolate cake or cheesecake. France broke my brain in the best way — realized I'd been settling for years and didn't even know it.












Nearly defaulted to cocktails the whole trip because French wine lists intimidated me. A bartender in the Marais finally talked me into just asking for the house pour, and everything changed from there.











