I heart the métro. Like big time, big time heart it {big time big time? there’s a new one}.

Amélie only added further métro fuel to my hearting, thus making it, heartinger. The first time I saw that movie, I was ready to hop on a plane back to Paris just to ride le métro. Forget everything else. I wanted on one of those damn cars. Preferably a newer one.

What is that I heart so much about it anyway?

Well. I think it comes down to this : that anywhere, literally any where, any place, any restaurant or monument or museum, is at your fingertips. You are never more than a block away from a station.

It’s that thrill of getting on at one place and being transported to a whole other realm.

Maman does not get my hearting of le métro. At all. She’d prefer to walk everywhere. She tries to never touch a door because of how dirty she thinks they are, and then always looks extremely uncomfortable sitting or standing, from stop to stop. I tend to blend in like a real Parisian.

I can say this because I’ve been asked for directions twice now. By my fellow Americans, but hey, they thought I looked French {enough} to know. So that means I pass.

It’s a whole underground world existing. And those sorts of things are precisely the sorts of things I find cool.

And guess what? Le métro hearts me back. This is picture proof positive.

I took this at the Saint Placide stop, which is right around the corner from where we are on Boulevard Raspail. Check out the time. Then check out the barely clothed woman in the ad, which reads, “and you haven’t even seen me clothed yet.” Gotta love it.

What are the chances! 17:16. For those of you slow on the military clock {comme moi}, that’s 5:16. My birthday.

Even all the way in Paris, it shows up. The signs continue. Regardless of where you are.