3 Days in Paris—With a Minor Change of Plans

My Paris list, what I packed, and the baguette that went terribly wrong.

I was curled up on the floor of a conference room in a town three hours north of Paris near the French-Belgium border. I was there to tour the factory for Staub, the iconic French cookware brand I've loved for many years. Our tour had kicked off with a presentation by one of Staub's engineers. He explained the process of melting down the metal for cast iron through applying the colorful enamels and high-temperature firing.

I couldn’t wait to see it in action on our tour, but suddenly, a low rumbling in my stomach was followed by a wave of nausea. I ran for the nearest bathroom. Apparently, the ham and cheese baguette that I'd literally devoured at the rest stop on our way wasn't such a great idea after all.

It was quite a contrast to just 48 hours earlier. Adam and I had just landed in Paris, ready to embrace a short romantic getaway. It had been an incredibly stressful week back home: glued to our phones, tracking the devastation in LA, a constant stream of text messages and calls with our friends and neighbors checking in on how we could help, heartbroken for all the loss.

As we drove into the city, a peace came over me—Paris in winter. Sunlight filtered through bare tree branches, and the museums were spacious without crowds of tourists in the off-season. We walked into cozy bistros without a reservation, drank Sancerre, and feasted on sole meunière, escargot, and bread spread with French butter.

On our second night, we met up with the Staub team for a decadent dinner at Thoumieux, a glittering restaurant with red velvet booths and a backdrop of the Eiffel Tower. It was a fun group of media people, including many "Instagram friends” I hadn’t met in person before (shoutout Holly and Natalie from The Modern Proper, Justine from Justine Snacks, Marissa from That Cheese Plate, and so many more lovely new friends.)

The team from Château d'Estoublon was there, which was a treat after falling in love with their wines and olive oils at their estate in Provence last summer. Our delicious meal was capped off with a stunning Île Flottante—my first time tasting this slice of heaven, and I already can’t wait to recreate it at home.

The Île Flottante: an elegant “floating island” suspended in a pool of crème anglaise

Everything was going perfectly, and my romantic dreams of a Paris getaway were coming to life—until the ham sandwich.

Oh trust me—I tried to overcome it, but anyone who’s had food poisoning knows it has a mind of its own. As I rejoined the group in the conference room, I closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and gave myself a pep talk. "Camille, you've got this. You flew all the way to Paris and took a long bus ride for this experience. It's a once-in-a-lifetime. People are counting on you. You can do it."

As I weakly tried to put on protective gear for the factory tour, my body had other ideas. After a second run to the bathroom, I found myself on the cold floor with my back against the stall. My intention for 2025 came rushing back. "Trust myself."

When our inner voice is screaming at us to rest, to be gentle with ourselves, to stop, we have to listen. To ignore that voice is to betray ourselves and our gut instincts. So on that day, I chose to trust it instead. To stay behind, acknowledge my limitations, and stop trying to be superhuman.

I slept the whole bus ride back to Paris. We cancelled our dinner reservations and got up early the next morning to head back home. As we drove down the Champs-Élysées on the way to the airport, I glanced out the car window and it took my breath away. The moonlight illuminating the Arc de Triomphe transported me back to the first time I visited Paris. It was just my mom and me, for my high school graduation, and neither of us had ever been out of the country before. It makes me laugh to recall how clueless we were when it came to navigating a foreign city. But our trip was pure magic—seeing Monet's waterlilies, strolling through the artist's district in Montmartre, and tasting French croissants for the first time.

No day is perfect, and every trip has its bumps in the road. But as we passed under the archway, I sent up a quiet prayer of gratitude for the little glimmers all around us. They invite us into a moment of wonder, on our best days and on our worst days, when we just remember to look up and notice.

My Favorite Spots in Paris

I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Paris many times over the years since that first post-graduation trip with my mom. These are the spots I return to again and again, plus a couple new ones I added to my list this trip.