Choices are a part of our daily experience and making them is not always easy, but when traveling our many options and limited time become increasingly evident.

Perhaps it is best to prioritize our desires without getting frustrated by all the things we will miss. It is much more satisfying to reflect on what we did do and see rather than regret what we didn’t.

Sometimes the choices we make are not always the best ones. Perhaps the place or event did not live up to our expectations or worse. Inevitably there is always something to learn or benefit from the experience, even if it’s the story we get to tell (always funnier after the fact) of our woe.

Although there is often a temptation to imagine the road not traveled, we are best off to appreciate the path we took.

There is a new museum in Paris, the Fondation Louis Vuitton. Yes, that Louis Vuitton. It has been designed with the unmistakable vision of Frank Gehry. If you have seen the Guggenheim Bilbao, you will recognize this new structure as his work immediately. It sits on the edge of the Bois de Boulogne dominating a parcel of land with its height and expansive breadth. And the presence of flowing water is striking here too,

But despite the extraordinary lines of the museum’s exterior, the interior galleries remain conventional. The rooms are rectangular, the path from one gallery to the next is familiar. One simply engages with the work in one area and moves on in a linear fashion to the next. This is not necessarily a bad thing. The focus, as perhaps it should be, is on the artwork within the museum rather than the museum itself.

However, the absence of originality and reliance on a traditional paradigm, in this regard, is unexpected.

When I meet people while traveling alone, the conversation of loneliness or discomfort about traveling on ones own often comes up. Interestingly, it seems to  concern primarily those who have not yet traveled by themselves, but would like to.

If the conversation includes people who have already traveled without a companion they inevitable speak of how much they enjoyed it. They discuss the freedom, the spontaneity, the pleasure of getting to know themselves better, they speak about the satisfaction of overcoming their initial trepidation.

How do I know such things? Inevitably, I find myself engaged in numerous impromptu conversations. But don’t take my word for it, consider traveling alone and finding this out for yourself.

There are few places in the world that conjure up notions of beauty and romance the way Paris does. I suspect that Casablanca would not pull at our heartstrings in just the same way if Rick and Ilsa had met in Cincinnati (not that I have anything against Cincinnati).

Paris has the ability to inspire in us, as few cities do, endless oohs and aahs.

It is a city I return to again and again and never tire of. The expansive sky, the Seine, the quintessential cafés, the small streets and grand boulevards, the small shops dedicated to cheese and other gastronomic pleasures, the language, and the people continue to enthrall me.

Inevitably I have seen changes over the years, as in my own hometown, that displease me. Commercial chains are moving in making it harder for independent businesses to survive and modern nondescript buildings are replacing the old. But the charm remains and some changes are welcome.  Bicycles, as in New York, have become an increasingly part of the daily transportation and paths specifically designed for them make it even more ideal still.

This week I will do what I love most. I will visit those who are dear to me, wander through museums, stroll about the city, get on the above stated two-wheels, sit at cafés, glimpse often at the sky, and revel as my senses are delighted by a city I hold dear.