When I woke up, I headed straight for the shower. I could feel humidity coating my skin. I plugged in my iPhone, checking the temperature and played my iTunes on shuffle. I removed my clothing and jumped into the cool shower. Unfortunately I hadn't brought many toiletries with me and opted for the tiniest bar of soap I had ever seen. Using it, I scrubbed my body from head to toe. Sadness flickered through me for a quick moment and I washed it down the drain. I came to enjoy my vacation, not be smothered with worries of a place I wasn't sure I would return to. 

Return...

The thought passed my mind when I got on the plane. Paris was the land of my dreams. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back to an intolerant city, or rather that I wanted to remain unknown here. Here no one knew me. Here Hyukjae wasn't here, but in a way neither was I. Running away never solved problems. The best reaction was being proactive. Going backwards, trying to erase the memory of what happened only meant that one day I would have to relive it again. A fate that already passed once didn't need to be met again days later. 

I turned off the nozzle and grabbed my towel. I dried myself off, wrapped the towel around my waist and headed back to the room. It was somewhat humid so I decided to wear some khaki cargo shorts and a white V-neck. As soon as I was dressed I jumped back onto the bed and grabbed my charging phone. I flipped through the dozens of messages from Chaerin and tried to remind myself to call her later. She would be fine. I had a million other things on my mind and the first thing was relaxing. 

I ended up tossing my phone into my pocket, grabbing my sunglasses and heading out. The first step to vacation was eating!

As I searched through Yalp, this amazing food app that showed all the different restaurants in the area, I narrowed it down to one in particular. I couldn't pronounce its name to save my life, but it had the most stereotypical dish I could think of: escargot also known as snails. I know it was common knowledge that most people didn't eat snails as much as TV shows had displayed, but as a food photographer I had an obligation to try it. 

I entered the restaurant with a modest, bonjour which was the extent of my knowledge of French and took a seat with 2 chairs. The waiter approached me and handed me a delicate paper menu. Paper which was refreshing from the usual laminated plastic menus I was used to. I immediately pointed to the snails, nodding my head stupidly as the waiter understood that I only knew English and he most likely, only knew French. He nodded his head, accepted the menu and walked off. I sat silently, questioning what I would be doing after this. Possibly some walking? soul searching? 

Within a few minutes, the waiter returned and placed in front of me the snails I had ordered. Next to it, lay a single slice of fresh crusty bread. The aroma hit my nose, a mixture of herbs and citrus. In a way it smelled earthy. I quickly snapped 2 photos of the dish, smiling as I reached forward with my spoon in hand to grab a bite. The first spoonful was overwhelming. It was similar to oysters, but in an odd fashion. Like an earthworm of the sea. It wasn't bad, but I wasn't sure I'd come back for this ever again. The next spoonful I scooped and smeared onto the crustry bread. I bit into the bread slowly, savoring the whipped butter as it helped to diminish the earthy flavor my palette picked up. Realizing I only had a single slice of bread, I waved for the waiter. He returned and I pointed at the bread with 2 fingers up, trying to express that I wanted 2 more slices. He repeated my action and I nodded watching as he left off again to get the bread. 

Eventually I finished my food, handing the appropriate amount to the waiter who greeted me goodbye and I waved my hand happily as I walked out into the day. 

I continued my path, instead choosing not to use Yelp and rather walk for a change to experience the off-beaten path. I didn't want to come off as too tourist-y. Granted, it didn't matter and I'm sure my obvious confusion and lack of their mother tongue made me stick out like a sore thumb. I wanted to experience Paris in a different way. In the same way it would feel if I were home. 

"Hyukjae this is the third time in a week you've visited." Chaerin tossed her keys on her desk as she walked into her office. 

Said chef, sat adjacent to her desk fingers twiddling with a stray strand of fabric coming from his navy blue cardigan.

"So no contact since?"

Chaerin sighed, pulling the seat from the desk and sitting with a groan. "You are not helping my hangover whatsoever."

"Here." Hyukjae bent over and pulled out a small thermos. "Citron tea with a dollop of mint julep jelly. My creation."

Chaerin eyed him. "You want me to drink more alcohol on top of the copious amounts consumed last night?" She shrugged grabbing the thermos. "Sign me up then."

She popped the top and was immediately hit with the scent of refreshing mint, watering at the smell. She took a small sip and was rewarded with the warmth of tea and the slight burn of the bourbon jelly. She smacked her lips together, relishing in the taste and smiled.

"Donghae would absolutely love this recipe. It's perfect. Are you going to add it to the cookbook?"

Hyukjae smiled, but within a few seconds his smile had faded. "Yeah, if he comes back."

"Hyuk-"

"I'll leave this with you. And if he ever reaches out, please tell him I'm sorry. If I didn't abandon him, he wouldn't have ran off. I should've faced him."

Chaerin closed the lid. "We were all caught off guard. Donghae never wanted his personal life to clash with his professional one."

"So what do I do?"

"You wait. The same way he's waiting wherever he is, for a sign to return."

As I traveled through the city, basking in all the wonders my heart yearned for one thing: home. Or at least the taste of home. I adored Paris, but what was it known for? Food! Dessert! The heart of cooking!

I evenually stopped at a small restaurant with an extended drink menu, after all what was lunch without a quick drink? Even though I was on vacation, I still had a responsibility to finish the cookbook and there was still several chapters missing. One specifically for drinks. Every item Hyukjae had created needed to be paired with something. Although Chaerin was the connoisseur of liquor, I could dabble a bit in what I believed would be perfect for the recipes we had so far. 

I opted for a restaurant with a menu that had notes similarly to what Hyukjae had made. One of the items, specifically a pistachio crusted lamb was reminiscent of the pistachio sponge cake we had worked on in the past. My idea was to ask the waiter their version of the drink they believed pair best with the meal and go from there. 

I was seated in a small table outside as the weather was perfect!

"And how may I serve you today, monsieur?"

"Oh! You speak English!"

The waiter---who was cute---coughed slightly, a light rose tinting his cheeks.

"Ah yes, I learned a bit overseas. I've been practicing, but it works best with tourists."

I pouted at that remark. Tourist. Did I give off that vibe or was it an international look? That no matter where I went I would be treated as such.

"What gave it away?"

He glanced down absentmindedly and laughed. "The shorts. French people don't wear shorts."

I laughed and a fleeting moment of sadness passed through me. I shivered involuntarily. 

"I'll keep that in mind and toss the other 8 pairs I have at my hotel."

He smiled and pulled out a small notepad and pen. "So what will our favorite visitor have?"

Now I was blushing, how long had it been since someone flirted with me? Someone that wasn't---

"The pistachio crusted lamb."

"Ah so you'll have that with a cup of chardonnay or will that be the bottle?" He stared at me as if he could read my mind and I choked at his words. How did he know I wanted a drink? Either Paris was too smooth for me, or this guy was a total foodie in disguise.

"Um excuse me?

The waiter stuttered. "Oh-uh- I'm sorry. I thought you would like a drink to go with your meal. It's a french tradition to drink wine on days of celebration."

I eyed him curiously. "And what are days of celebration?" As a total non-expert on Paris, I had never heard of that...or maybe my lack of research was showing.

"Everyday that you're alive." He smiled and I laughed again. He was a total charmer. They didn't call this the city of love for nothing.

"Then I'll take your recommendation....and make that a small glass. I've got some other places to try out."

He jotted it down before asking, "how long will you be in this beautiful city?"

"Not sure. I'm trying to sample as much food as possible before I head back home."

"Well..." he paused and I watched as he wrote something else on another piece of paper before handing it to me discreetly. 

"There's my number if you ever want to explore more than just the food. I'll give in your order."

He winked before hurrying off to the next table. I unfolded the crumpled paper, my eyes scanning over the phone number.

Did I just get the number of a handsome french man without trying?

Paris isn't the city of love for nothing.