For my 33rd birthday, I visited Paris for the 11th time. Why not? There’s always a classic touristy must-do that I’ve yet to cross off my list (Monet’s Water Lilies at the Musée de l’Orangerie, for example) or something new-to-me to see in the French capital (an exhibit at Printemps by a contemporary French painter whose work I love). Even after multiple visits, Paris consistently surprises me, offering a side of itself I haven’t yet gotten to know. It never stays the same, much like my beloved New York City, where I live. They both pride themselves, I think, on being un-pin-down-able. A running joke: I like my cities like I like my men.
At the same time, over the last few years and visits, Paris—and, if I may, French life—has grown ever more familiar to me. I can now navigate restaurants, cafés, museums, shops, and pharmacies entirely in French. Navigating the Metro feels as natural as riding the subway from Brooklyn into Manhattan. I don’t even experience jet lag anymore whenever I’m here; my body immediately adjusts to what it thinks is its second home.
But perhaps most importantly, I have built a community in Paris. Local friends both old and new—expats, immigrants, and natives alike—make me feel like the lifelong dream of living in this city, even for just a little bit, is within reach. Which is why, when I started to look at Airbnbs in Paris for my birthday trip, I wanted to find something that felt like it could be my very own home. My strict parameters: Something chic and simple, with that distinctly Parisian crown molding and maybe a few plants, a proper bedroom, and a view. No shoeboxes and no shares. I wanted a space that was my own.
Lo and behold, I found just the place that ticked all those boxes: this one-bedroom flat on the sixth floor (seventh floor, in American terms) of a building located between two of my favorite areas in Paris—Montmartre and the Canal Saint-Martin. As soon as I turned the key and stepped into the place, I immediately thought, “This place is ready for move-in.” The decor was low-key and tasteful, with a comfy couch and rugs and blankets for textural (and literal) warmth. The dining table was big, located right next to the kitchen which had a microwave, a glass-top range, and an oven. The bathroom was well-equipped and even had a washing machine. There was even an entire office room with a desk, chair, and a lamp; I was on vacation, but a space like that is ideal for working remotely.
I also adored the three French-doored windows through which I could pass and sit on a balcony overlooking the neighborhood’s Mansard roofs. It felt like a quintessentially Parisian flat, down to the small but nice bathroom and the lack of an elevator. Yes, I must repeat, this place does not come with elevator access and it is on the sixth floor—again, that’s seventh floor, by American terms. I knew that there was no elevator prior to booking and reasoned that true locals in Paris do, in fact, live like this. After bringing up my suitcase when I arrived, it felt like a worthy daily exercise for the next four days. But do be warned: a step-free spot, this is not.
In fairness, I only climbed those stairs twice a day—once when I left the apartment in the mornings, and once when I came home. For my birthday, I went to restaurants I adored (Reyna, Tournelles, naturally—reservations absolutely necessary) and made a spa appointment at The Peninsula Paris, among other activities. The commutes to my appointments and drinks dates all over Paris were easily accessible via the Metro; the Airbnb is close to the La Chapelle and Stalingrad stations, which are served by Lines 2, 5, and 7. That’s not to say the immediate area didn’t have its charms. When I mentioned to friends that two blocks from my doorstep was Bob’s Bake Shop, I got many an excited ooh!
Yet beyond any of the material pros of this wonderful Airbnb, I think my favorite thing about this place is how it made me feel immediately at home. The initial goal of my birthday trip was to simply spend the weekend away, to demonstrate to myself that I didn’t need to uproot my life in New York to fulfill my dreams of having a home in Paris. And in this way, it was a mission accomplished—any time I come back to Paris, I’ll be happy to come back to this apartment. Chances are high that it won’t be available on my very next trip (I’m flying back for Thanksgiving), but I have a feeling that the growing familiarity I have with Paris will make me feel welcome no matter where I bed down. Still, a perfect Airbnb like this one doesn’t hurt to bookmark.