Parisian Paradise: Hotel Muguet's Unforgettable Charm
Parisian Paradise: Hotel Muguet - My Parisian Dream (and a Few Wake-Up Calls!)
Okay, so you're dreaming of Paris, right? Baguettes, berets, and that je ne sais quoi of effortless chic? Well, so was I. And, deep breath, I decided to dive headfirst into the Hotel Muguet experience. They call it a "Parisian Paradise." Let's see if it lives up to the hype, shall we? (Spoiler alert: It's complicated…and utterly charming in its own slightly chaotic way.)
First, the Good Stuff (Because Paris is always worth it):
Location, Location, Location! Forget the boring tourist traps! Hotel Muguet is smack-dab in the heart of the 7th arrondissement. Think Eiffel Tower views (potentially, depending on your room – more on that later!), cute little cafes spilling onto the streets, and that real Parisian vibe. Getting around is a breeze. I actually walked everywhere, but the taxi service and airport transfer are readily available if your feet aren't up to it (or if, like me after a week of croissants, you just can't anymore). There's car parking [on-site] and even car power charging station which is a great bonus.
That All-Important Wi-Fi: Okay, this is a big one. Free Wi-Fi in all rooms! And it actually works! (Unlike some hotels where the connection is as reliable as a Parisian weather forecast). There's also Wi-Fi in public areas, and for you tech-heads, Internet access [LAN] if you need it. Staying connected is practically essential when you're trying to Instagram your perfectly imperfect croissant crumbs.
The Rooms (Mostly Charming, with a Few Quirks): I booked a "superior" room, which, by some definition, included a bathtub, bathrobes, and, thankfully, air conditioning. The blackout curtains were essential for fighting off jet lag (and the lingering sun!). My view? Well…let's just say it wasn't the Eiffel Tower. (Note to self: Always request a room with a view. Seriously. It's worth it.) But the room itself was clean, with daily housekeeping, a comfy bed, and a coffee/tea maker. And look, there's a refrigerator to keep my chocolate stash cool! I'm in! The extra long bed was also a great plus. The complimentary tea in the room also really helps. And hey, look, there's even a desk for pretending you're a writer like Hemingway! The bathroom phone was odd and I didn't know if I was meant to use it.
Safety First (and Second, and Third): Paris, like any major city, requires a bit of vigilance. The hotel seemed to be on top of it. The front desk [24-hour] peace of mind. There is also security [24-hour]. You have CCTV in common areas and CCTV outside property. And I saw fire extinguishers and smoke alarms everywhere. The hotel is clearly committed to safety/security feature. Very reassuring. Oh and the best part? Safe deposit boxes in the room! I felt very safe!
The Spa…Sort Of (My "Accidental" Bliss): Okay, this is where things get interesting. They tout a spa, sauna, steamroom, and even a pool with view. The pool, unfortunately, was closed for maintenance during my visit (grrr!). HOWEVER, I booked a massage. (Massage!) It was…divine. Maybe not the fanciest spa I've ever been to, but the masseuse was amazing. She worked out every single travel knot in my back. I was practically walking on air afterward. Pure, unadulterated bliss. This is a HUGE win for me.
The "Hmm…" Moments (Because Life Isn’t Always Instagrammable):
Accessibility: Mixed Bag. Elevator yes! Facilities for disabled guests yes, but I didn't use them so I can't comment.
Breakfast Buffet (The Good, the Okay, and the Mystifying): The Breakfast [buffet] was…well, a buffet. The Asian breakfast was a bit suspect. They had the usual suspects: International cuisine in restaurant, Western breakfast, and the buffet in restaurant with coffee/tea in restaurant. There are also restaurants but I didn't go to any other than the breakfast one.
Room Service: I'll be honest, I was tempted to order from the room service [24-hour], but I ended up wandering out for pastries every morning.
Cleanliness and Safety: Post-COVID Paris is, understandably, very serious about cleanliness. The Hotel Muguet did a good job with Anti-viral cleaning products, Daily disinfection in common areas, and other sanitizing measures. My room was Rooms sanitized between stays. I felt very safe. They even had signs up reminding guests to Physical distancing of at least 1 meter. They also had Hand sanitizer in various places. I didn't notice any staff wearing masks, though.
The "Details" That Matter (or Don't): I loved the complimentary tea, but I didn't use the hair dryer or the ironing facilities, and it was a bit of an effort to get the cash withdrawal.
Things to Do (and Relax): I unfortunately wasn't able to experience the Fitness center, but I did see a treadmill and some weights. I didn't experience a Body scrub, Body wrap, Foot bath, or Spa/sauna, but it was a good sign that these facilities existed.
For the Kids: There were babysitting service available, which made me think, "What if I had kids with me?" The kids meals were a nice touch as well.
The Verdict: Would I Go Back?
Yes. Absolutely, yes. Paris is Paris, and Hotel Muguet is…well, it's a charming, slightly quirky, perfectly imperfect base for your Parisian adventure. It wasn't flawless, but that's part of its charm. It felt real, not like some sterile, cookie-cutter hotel.
Final Score: 4 out of 5 croissants. (Minus one for the elusive Eiffel Tower view.)
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Escape to Paradise: Aruba's Renaissance Wind Creek Resort Awaits!
Okay, here we GO. Hotel Muguet, Paris. Right. Let's see if I can actually manage this… because honestly? Planning trips is exhausting. But hey, Paris. Worth it, right? Right.
Hotel Muguet - My Attempt at Parisian Glamour (Probably Gonna Fail Hilariously):
Day 1: The Arrival (and Immediate Jet Lag Disaster)
- 6:00 AM (Paris Time - or what passes for it in my bleary eyes): ARRIVE! Insert dramatically weary sigh here. Charles de Gaulle Airport. Okay, okay, deep breaths. Smooth arrival? Ha! More like a chaotic ballet of lost luggage (thankfully avoided, phew), bewildered passport control, and the distinct feeling I've accidentally walked onto the set of a spy movie. Did I even bring the right power adapter? Ugh.
- 7:30 AM: The RER B train. Smelly. Cramped. But… Paris. Pretending I understand French. Mostly failing. Muttering "Bonjour" like a deranged parrot.
- 8:30 AM: Hotel Muguet! Breathes a sigh of relief. It looks… charming. Tiny. Adorable. (Note to self: Pack light next time. Seriously.) Check-in. Smiling at the receptionist. Probably appearing manic.
- 9:00 AM - 12:00 PM: Attempt at a Nap. HA. Jet lag is a cruel mistress. I'm pretty sure I just dreamt in two languages and woke up convinced I could speak fluent French. Spoiler alert: I can't. Toss and turn. Stare at the ceiling. Consider ordering room service, fail due to overwhelming exhaustion.
- 12:00 PM: Finally drag myself out of bed. Stumble into the tiny, charming hotel lobby. Need caffeine. Desperately.
- 12:30 PM: Venture out. Find a charming little boulangerie around the corner. Ordering a pain au chocolat and a café crème. It was… transcendent. Like, actually cried a little bit. Maybe that was the jet lag. Doesn't matter. The most delicious thing I've ever eaten. It's all uphill from here, right?
- 1:30 PM - 4:00 PM: Rambling through the 7th arrondissement. Pretended to appreciate the Eiffel Tower from afar (too tired to go up it). Watched a dog relieve itself on a perfectly manicured lawn. Thought about the existential implications of dog pee in Paris. Got side-tracked by a vintage bookstore and spent far too long browsing dusty volumes I couldn't read but needed to own.
- 4:00 PM - 5:00 PM: Back pain. Sat on a bench near the Champs de Mars. Watched lovers. Cynically judged them all. Felt intensely, overwhelmingly, alone. Then ate a macaron. Everything's better with macarons.
- 6:00 PM: Dinner at a tiny bistro I found on Yelp (best app ever). Ordered something random, pointed at a menu, and hoped for the best. It was… delicious! And the waiter? Swoon. Okay, maybe the jet lag is working in my favor.
- 7:30 PM - 9:00 PM: Stumble back to the hotel. Crash. Probably snore loud enough to wake the dead.
Day 2: The Louvre and Existential Crises (Because, Paris)
- 9:00 AM: Wake up, somewhat rested. Jet lag is still kicking, but the croissant from the boulangerie is a distant memory.
- 10:00 AM - 1:00 PM: THE LOUVRE. The Mona Lisa. Okay, she's… small. And there are a LOT of people. Like, a lot. Pushed, shoved, elbowed my way through the crowd. Almost lost my will to live in a room full of Renaissance art. But then I saw a Caravaggio and had a complete meltdown (good one).
- 2:00 PM - 3:00 PM: Lunch. Found a little cafe near the Tuileries Garden and a sandwich and fries. People-watching. Felt simultaneously inspired and utterly insignificant in the face of history and art.
- 3:00 PM - 5:00 PM: Wandered aimlessly around the Tuileries Garden. Watched pigeons. Briefly considered becoming a pigeon. Lost in thought, contemplating life choices, and the sheer beauty of the perfectly manicured hedges.
- 5:00 PM - 6:00 PM: Shopping! (Needed retail therapy after the Louvre). Found a cute little boutique near the hotel and came close to going broke. (Totally worth it).
- 7:00 PM: Dinner at a ridiculously overpriced restaurant. Ate something fancy I didn't understand. Wine was excellent. Felt slightly less terrible about the state of the world.
- 8:30 PM: Walk back to the hotel, completely exhausted. Found myself staring at the Eiffel Tower. Decided to give it another shot tomorrow. We'll see if I make it.
Day 3: The Seine, the Catacombs, and the Search for Meaning (and a Bathroom)
- 9:30 AM: Attempted to sleep in but woke up a little early. It was a disaster.
- 10:30 AM - 12:00 PM: A Seine River cruise. Expected romance. Got… crowds and a mild aesthetic appreciation of the bridges. The sun was nice. The breeze was nice. Still felt a little bit like a tourist zombie, but hey, boats!
- 1:00 PM - 3:00 PM: The Catacombs. Okay. So. This was intense. Like, really, really intense. I'm talking skulls. Lots and lots of skulls. Felt a bit morbid, but also strangely humbled by the sheer number of dead people. It's Paris's very own, extremely morbid, reminder of just how brief our existence is. I am not sure I'd recommend this if you've got a weak stomach or are easily spooked.
- 3:00 PM - 5:00 PM: Coffee and a desperate search for a public bathroom that wasn't disgusting. Found one. Barely survived. (Mental note: always carry hand sanitizer).
- 6:00 PM: A crepe. Nutella. Regretted nothing.
- 7:00 PM: Dinner at some random restaurant. Probably ate too much.
- 8:30 PM: Back to the hotel. Packed my bags. Sad to leave. Paris is… weird. Wonderful. Exhausting. And I'm already planning my return.
And that's the messy, beautiful truth of my Parisian adventure. It wasn't perfect. I was tired, and I got lost. I cried over pastries and contemplated the meaning of life. But that, my friends, is what makes it real. Au revoir, Paris… until next time!
Escape to Fairfield Inn & Suites Deptford, NJ: Your Perfect Getaway Awaits!
Okay, So...What *IS* This Thing Anyway? Like, Seriously?
Ugh, the age-old question, right? Look, this "thing" (and by "this thing" I mean this whole shebang… the website, this FAQ, life itself...) is basically a digital dumpster fire of thoughts, feelings, and the occasional semi-coherent sentence. I'm trying to... *do* something with it, but honestly, I'm still figuring that out. It's like trying to herd cats while blindfolded and wearing oven mitts. You catch a few, then you trip. Yeah. That's about the level of clarity we're working with. My brain is a tangled ball of yarn. Bear with me.
Why are you so… *rambly*? Is this on purpose?
Rambly? Me? Never! (Okay, maybe a little.) But yeah, it *is* on purpose. I'm trying to make this feel… real. You know, like a conversation you'd have with a friend who’s poured a little *too* much wine. You get the truth, the *whole* truth, and nothing *but* the truth (mostly). It's also because my brain operates at about the speed of a snail dipped in molasses. I think, I digress, I waffle, I remember a stupid thing I did in 1998... It's the way I roll, folks. Accept it or leave. (Just kidding, please stay... I'm lonely.)
So, what’s *your* deal? Who *are* you?
Oof. Deep question. Let’s just say I’m a… work in progress. A glorious, messy, often-confused work in progress. I'm the kind of person who buys a planner and then just uses it to write down grocery lists. I'm the person who starts a marathon and stops to eat snacks halfway. I'm the person who gets a new hobby every week and is a master of none. I haven't fully decided *what* I am, so I'm just… *being*. It's freeing, and utterly terrifying, all at the same time. This whole thing is basically my therapy. Don't judge the therapist, okay? Or, do, I'm used to it.
Okay, fine. But what *can* you actually *do*? Like, what’s the… point?
The million-dollar question! *I* don't even know the point. Right now? I *think* the point is to connect. To maybe, just maybe, help someone feel a little less alone in this chaotic world. To share my (often questionable) thoughts and maybe, just maybe, make someone smile… or at least raise an eyebrow. I hope to be a place to put your thoughts aside and laugh, because, well, the world needs it. Look, I'm aiming for "slightly entertaining" right now. Baby steps.
This FAQ is about… *everything*? That seems… ambitious.
Yeah, ambitious is one word for it. Delusional is another. Look, I'm not claiming to be an expert on anything. But I'm *fascinated* by everything. And I *think* I'm a good observer. So, I figure, why not? Why *not* delve into the absurd, the mundane, the things that make you go "hmmm" and the things that make you want to throw your phone across the room? Someone *has* to do it, right? (Probably not, but whatever).
So, what’s the weirdest thing that’s *ever* happened to you? (And please, tell me it’s exciting!)
Ugh. Okay, so it wasn't *super* exciting, but it *was* supremely weird... and embarrassing. I was, maybe, 20, and I *thought* I was this incredibly sophisticated woman. I was at a fancy art gallery opening, and I was trying to impress a guy I had a RIDICULOUS crush on. Cue: me, spilling red wine *all* over a priceless (apparently) sculpture. It was supposed to be a "moment." It wasn't a charming "oops, so clumsy" moment. It was a godawful, "I'm going to be blacklisted from the art world" moment. The wine went EVERYWHERE. My crush? Gone. The sculpture? Probably scarred for life. Me? Hiding in the bathroom for an hour, hoping to not be asked to leave. The worst part? I was wearing *white* pants. White pants! The universe has a wickedly cruel sense of humor. I still cringe when I think about it. *Shudders* (And yes, I was definitely in love with the guy.)
Are you always this… *honest*?
Honest? Oh honey, I'm practically an *open book*. Maybe that's not always the best strategy in life, but hey, I'm not trying to be a politician or sell you anything… unless you count my extremely questionable life advice. I'm a firm believer in the power of awkwardness and the beauty of imperfection. So yeah, probably. Maybe. (Don't hold me to that, though. I might have to lie about something later, just for the heck of it.)
What's your biggest fear?
Oh god, so many. Clowns. Public speaking. Being alone forever with my cats. But, I guess, the biggest fear is probably… not living fully. You know? Not taking chances. Not letting myself be vulnerable. Not making a fool of myself, even though I'm pretty good at it already. I'm working on it. I really am. And probably eating some ice cream for comfort after I finish this.
What are your *hobbies*?
Oh, this changes weekly! I love reading (always), trying (and failing) to bake, walking in nature, writing (obviously), and watching way too much reality TV. Currently, I'm also obsessed with learning how to make pasta from scratch. Last week it was learning the ukulele and before that... well, it doesn't matter. The list goes on. I'm a serial dabbler.
