Canada is my country, but Paris is my hometown

"What are they saying?" Emily shouts over the music.
"Something about a bird?" The electro-pop band on stage is amazing, but my French is rusty and I can only catch the gist of what they're singing. I'm having too much fun to really care.
Emily and I had met the day before, assigned bunkmates at the Vintage Hostel in the 9th Arrondissement of Paris. Both traveling alone, both from North America, both lovers of literature enamored with this beautiful city, we bonded instantly. We went out in search of adventure, and when we heard the music, we followed it to the Hôtel de Ville. Now here we are, dancing amid a crush of bodies. My heart's pounding and I can't stop smiling. The energy of the crowd is so upbeat, it's intoxicating. Arms raised above my head, bouncing the the beat, I feel pure joy.
As the concert ends, we bump--literally--into two Frenchmen and strike up a conversation. Suddenly we're off on another adventure. We buy bottles of wine in a tiny shop, and one of the guys asks, "Do you know what they say?"
"About what?"
"Paris. They used to say, Paris has everything you could possibly want in a city, except a beach. But now, we do have a beach! Shall we?"
Paris Plages is a free event (of which, we then realize, the concert was a part) that began in 2002. Each summer the City trucks in piles of sand to transform several spots along the bank of the Seine, creating artificial beaches right in the heart of Paris.
During the day the beach bustles with activity, but right now it is quiet and dreamlike, light gently reflecting off the river. I squish the sand between my toes and laugh--it's perfect!
We lounge on the sand, drinking cheap wine, and engage in the kind of deep and meaningful conversation you can only have with complete strangers. Life, death, art, love--we are philosophers under the stars.
During my time in Paris I visit the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe and Notre Dame. I see Mona Lisa's mysterious smile at the Louvre and sample the most delicious crepes I've ever eaten. I spend hours browsing the shelves at Shakespeare & Company and wandering the rooms at the Musee d'Orsay, marveling at not only the artwork but also the building itself--a converted train station. And I spend this magical night in the company of strangers.
Back at the hostel, Emily claims she's fallen in love with Jean-Michel, one of the Frenchmen. It sounds absurd, but also somehow possible.
And I'm in love as well--this is the night I fall hopelessly in love with Paris.