Since John and I have been to Paris so many times, we've found people ask us that if they come here, what would we suggest they do? Our answer is simple. Just get lost. We mean that in the most helpful way possible. Put your phone away and wander the city. Go up and down the side streets - away from the tourist streets and attraction sites and instagrammable influencer spots. Have a destination in mind, and wander in that direction and you'll discover amazing cafes and shops, along with your own instagramable sites.

And, this morning, John and I did just that. After picking him up a breakfast that would not be acceptable back home, and one where my husband decided to eat one of my favorite pastries after only letting me have one tiny bite of the chocolate eclair, we set out on our second day. Our initial destination was the Tuileries Garden Christmas Market. We stopped into the BHV, one of Paris' largest department stores and eventually got to the market. We immediately nixed Angelina's. No amount of fabulous hot chocolate could justify the ridiculous line to get into the establishment. It only proved our point to forgo any restaurant or cafe that is all over the internet. Instead, after deciding the Christmas Market was over hyped and really meant for families and those not looking for the best cuisine Paris could offer, we meandered through the exterior of the gardens, stopped into some amazing stores and a cafe that we found during our honeymoon in June. (Take it from me, mulled wine is something no one needs to clamor for during any holiday.) In any cafe, though, the vino is beyond even my descriptions. To say that we were both a little light headed finding our way to Les Deux Magots was just a tad comical. The punch line to it all was the adventure of ordering their famous hot chocolate. For that experience, you'll have to follow me on - what else - Instagram.

I find it hard to keep track of my husband when I'm sober and to try and do that after an afternoon glass of wine is probably next to impossible. He either forgets where I am or I can't find him, and then when I do, all I can do is make him feel guilty for leaving me. It's a game that I will probably never get tired of playing.

When we finally got back to our hotel, we had a spare hour or two to relax before we met up again with my friend Michael. Taking him to what has become our favorite Italian restaurant for pizza and wine was another night of wondrous memories. And to top it off, we found a neighborhood gay bar on the way home. As it turned out, it was John's first time in a Parisian bar and my first time in one as a couple. We'll leave the stories of my time in bars in Europe for another time and another stream of consciousness. The other myth that we'll destroy is that the French are stand-offish and rude. Nothing could be further from the reality. Everyone has been amazing and in this tiny neighborhood bar, the patrons all talked to us and since they heard me saying how I was craving ice cream, the bartender went next door to the restaurant to get me a dish of the creamiest pistachio and vanilla bean topped by strawberry drizzled chantilly cream.

As we bid goodnight again to our friend Michael, I walked back to the hotel with John. This time, I didn't lose sight of him. He being bundled up with a scarf, gloves, and ear muffs also helped. After all, it's pretty late - I didn't want to take the chance of getting lost.