From MaNdlovu, With Love – Paris

It’s safe to say that every journey I’ve undertaken has taught me something about myself. While courage has been a consistent theme throughout my travels, Paris awakened something deeper – my fearless adventurer. There’s a particular kind of bravery required to enter a foreign city alone, where the main language isn’t your own.

For me, that was the truest test of fearlessness. I still laugh when I recall the two times I confidently ordered “a salad”, only to be served a plate of lettuce lightly drizzled with dressing. Or the moment I offered a tip to a waiter, and he politely declined. It wasn’t a failure of communication; I had spent three months learning French before arriving in Paris. That wasn’t the issue.

The difference was cultural. In Paris, interactions feel more formal and reserved. Unlike the warmth and friendliness of South Africans, there’s a noticeable shift in tone. Restaurant staff tend not to linger or check in as often. At first, it seemed transactional, but over time, I saw it differently. I came to view it as a quiet respect for your space, an unspoken invitation to enjoy your meal, your thoughts, and your company without interruption.

While Paris awakened a fearless adventurer in me mentally and emotionally, it also stirred something far more tender – a deep, overwhelming sense of gratitude that often moved me to tears. Being alone in Paris felt meaningful. It gave me space to reflect not only on how far women have come but also on how far I have progressed myself. I found myself contemplating the woman I was, the woman I am, and the woman I am still becoming. My strength, resilience, and quiet contentment surfaced.

There were moments when I would pause in the middle of the city just to absorb everything around me and silently whisper, “thank you”.

Growth, I realised, doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes, it manifests in the quiet confidence to take up space – in the courage to walk into luxury stores wearing an African print top you made yourself, unapologetically. That’s exactly how I showed up as I spent a day walking along the Champs-Élysées, one of Paris’s most iconic shopping streets, not trying to belong but simply existing as I am.

My three months with Duolingo definitely proved useful. From the airport to the hotel and in small shop interactions, the basics took me further than I expected. I’d strongly suggest making the effort to learn even a little of the language when travelling to a country where English isn’t the primary language. I found myself fascinated, listening to the rhythm of French conversations around me, wishing I could fully participate.

Beyond the language, Paris affirmed something I had always known about myself: my love for architecture. Seeing it in person was something entirely different. The intricate details on the Parliament buildings, the grandeur of the Arc de Triomphe, and the quiet magnificence of Les Invalides left me in awe. The textures, the sculpted figures, the touches of gold and metal—every element felt deliberate. Every building told a story. Knowing that many of these structures have stood for hundreds of years, built long before modern machinery, reminded me of human capability, patience, and the lasting power of history.

Fashion, too, became its own kind of language in Paris. You can almost instantly tell the difference between tourists and locals. Parisians move with an effortless sense of style. Tailored suits, crisp shirts, or casual yet structured pieces made from high-quality fabrics. In contrast, tourists tend to favour comfort over form. And yet, what stood out most was how the French could make something as simple as shorts and a T-shirt look intentional—elevated, even.

In Paris, style isn’t loud. It’s considered.

More than anything, Paris unexpectedly became about food. As a croissant enthusiast, I quickly realised that I might have been somewhat “cheated” for most of my life. The croissants I sampled in Paris sent me on a week-long quest to find the best one—and what a journey it was. Along the way, I enjoyed countless pastries, visited cafés and restaurants, and relished every bite.

Looking back, Paris was a quiet challenge that I wasn’t entirely aware of. How far can you push yourself? How brave are you? Can you navigate public transport in a place where you don’t speak the language? I managed it all. Would I return to Paris?

For the food, the fashion, and the sensation. Absolutely.

* Sané Ndlovu is a proudly local, globally curious travel writer, PR practitioner, and avid solo traveller.