Just France

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  • I Traveled Across France: My Favorite Cities (With Real Moments)

    I spent a month riding trains across France. I kept notes on my phone, and a tiny stack of paper tickets that got coffee stains. If you'd like the blow-by-blow version—including the routes, mishaps, and extra photos—you can peek at my longer travel diary I Traveled Across France: My Favorite Cities (With Real Moments). I used the SNCF Connect app. I dragged a carry-on and a little backpack. It was a whole thing.

    What makes a city “best” for me? Three basics:

    • Can I walk a lot and feel safe?
    • Can I eat well without a big bill?
    • Do I get that “I could stay longer” feeling?

    You know what? France has many cities that hit those marks. Here’s where I went, what I loved, and where my socks got wet. Yes, literally.

    How I Got Around (Quick and Handy)

    • Trains: TGV for long jumps, TER for short hops. Easy and on time.
    • Apps I used: SNCF Connect, Citymapper (Paris), and Google Maps offline.
    • Bikes and scooters: Vélib’ in Paris; Lime in a few spots. I kept a helmet strap on my bag. It looked dorky. I lived.

    If you want an easy primer on every French region before lacing up your walking shoes, spend a minute on Just France; one scroll there can save you three in the station.

    Okay, onto the cities.

    Paris — Big, Loud, Worth It

    I stayed near Canal Saint-Martin. I ate a warm galette saucisse from a street cart and spilled mustard on my scarf. Paris will do that to you.

    • Best bite: Falafel at L’As du Fallafel in the Marais. The line moved fast. The pita dripped. I smiled like a fool.
    • Chill spot: I watched the tiny booksellers by the Seine close up at dusk. The green boxes made a soft clap.
    • Surprise: The little park at Square du Vert-Galant felt like a secret boat.

    Heads up: Crowds at the Louvre. I went right at opening, went straight to the Mona Lisa, then backtracked. It worked like a charm.

    Lyon — Food City, Plain and Simple

    Two nights turned into four. That says a lot.

    • Meal I still think about: A bouchon called Le Bouchon des Filles. Simple plates, bold flavors, warm room. I tried quenelles and felt cozy, like someone put a blanket on my shoulders.
    • Wandering: I walked the traboules in Vieux Lyon. Those hidden passages feel like stage doors.
    • Snack run: Les Halles de Lyon Paul Bocuse. I sampled cheese, then more cheese. No regrets.

    Tip: Bring stretchy pants. Kidding. Kind of.

    Nice — Blue Water, Slow Days

    I saw the sea the second I stepped off the tram. My shoulders dropped.

    • Morning routine: Coffee on the Promenade des Anglais, blue chairs facing the water, old men in tidy hats.
    • Street food: Socca at Chez Pipo. Hot, salty, crisp edges. I burned my tongue. Totally worth it.
    • Small joy: Cours Saleya market. Peaches that smelled like summer was louder than the scooters.

    Curious to dive deeper? Chez Pipo’s official site offers opening hours and history at Chez Pipo, and the succinct Falstaff street-food review explains why locals swear by those blistered chickpea rounds.

    Note: The beach is pebbly. Water shoes help. I learned the hard way.

    Marseille — Wild Edge, Big Heart

    People warned me. I went anyway. I’m glad I did.

    • Best day: Hike to Calanque de Sugiton. Turquoise water, white rock, bright sun. I packed a baguette and a peach. Felt like a postcard.
    • Dinner: Bouillabaisse at Chez Fonfon. Pricey, yes. Deep flavor, yes. I sat by the port and watched boats.
    • Vibe check: Noailles market—spices, loud calls, kids weaving through with baskets. Pure life.

    It’s rough in spots. Keep your bag close. Keep your eyes open. It’s real and it’s beautiful.

    Bordeaux — Wine, Sure… But Also Light

    I walked the river at sunset and saw the Miroir d’eau reflect pink clouds. It felt staged, but it’s real.

    • Must-see: La Cité du Vin. Fun even if you’re not a wine nerd. I liked the smell stations.
    • Day trip: TER to Saint-Émilion. Old stones, neat vines, a quiet square that smells like toast and red fruit.
    • Snack: Canelés. Chewy outside, soft inside. I ate two. Fine, three.

    The tram system is simple. I tapped my card and felt like a local for five minutes.

    Strasbourg — Cozy Lanes and Holiday Glow

    I came in December. The air had a clove smell. My scarf kept slipping off my shoulder. I still remember the lights.

    • Walk: Petite France, timbered houses, slow bridges, water that looks like a mirror if the wind rests.
    • Bite: Tarte flambée at a corner spot with fogged windows. Thin, crisp, warm from the oven.
    • Extra: The Christmas markets spread over many squares. I held a hot cup and felt my fingers again.

    Spring’s lovely too, but winter here feels like a snow globe.

    Toulouse — Pink Stone, Warm People

    They call it “La Ville Rose.” When the sun hits the brick, it glows.

    • Square life: Place du Capitole at golden hour. Street music, families, roller skates that squeak.
    • Nerd stop: Aeroscopia Museum. Planes, big and small. I walked under a Concorde and grinned.
    • Hearty plate: Cassoulet at Le Bon Vivre. Beans, duck, a nap later. You get it.

    I biked along Canal du Midi. Flat, shady, peaceful. My water bottle saved the day.

    Annecy — Clear Lake, Mountain Air

    My legs were jelly by day two. Those stairs get you.

    • Morning: The old town canals look fake. They’re not. Flowers spill over the railings like they forgot the rules.
    • Swim: Plage des Marquisats. Clean water, mountain view, soft hush. I floated and counted clouds.
    • Short hike: Up at Semnoz. Cool air, cows with bells, a horizon that keeps going.

    Go in June or early September. Summer crowds hit hard.

    Biarritz — Surf, Salt, and a Good Nap

    I took a beginner surf lesson at Côte des Basques with Jo Moraiz Surf School. I stood up twice. I yelled. People clapped. We laughed like kids.

    • Sunset: Rocher de la Vierge lookout. Wind in my hair, salt on my lips, gulls doing loop-the-loops.
    • Snack: Gateau Basque from a tiny bakery. Almond cream, tender crust. I bought a second one “for later.” Later was 12 minutes.

    Note: Tides matter here. The beach can shrink fast, so check the board by the stairs.

    Saint-Malo — Tides and Thick Walls

    The sea pulls way out, then rushes back like it forgot its keys.

    • Walk: On the ramparts at blue hour. Lanterns flicker. Kids race. You hear waves through the stones.
    • Treat: Kouign-amann from Breizh Café. Butter meets sugar meets happiness.
    • Day hop: Bus to Mont-Saint-Michel. Crowded, yes, but that abbey perched over the flats feels like a magic trick.

    Bring a windbreaker. Even in July. Trust me.

    Quick Picks (If You’re Short on Time)

    • First visit: Paris + Lyon + Nice
    • Food trip: Lyon, Bordeaux, Toulouse
    • Beach mood: Nice, Biarritz, Marseille (for the calanques)
    • Winter lights: Strasbourg
    • Fairytale vibe: Annecy + Saint-Malo

    Tiny Things That Helped

    • Shoes: Real walking shoes. Paris cobbles eat weak sneakers.
    • Cards: Contactless worked almost everywhere. I carried a little cash for markets.
    • Timing: Eat lunch menus. Cheaper, hearty, and calm.
    • Language: Bonjour first. Always. A smile changes the whole tone.

    One last, slightly spicy tip: if part of your adventure includes meeting locals beyond cafés and museums, there's an eye-opening resource that spells out how travelers set up no-strings-attached dates in French cities. Check out this step-by-step guide on how to get free sex tonight by using a clever hookup app — it highlights which platforms have the most active users across France, shows how to tweak your profile for fast matches, and outlines smart safety moves so you can keep things fun and drama-free.

    For LGBTQ+ visitors who’d rather arrange an upscale, trans-friendly companion in advance—especially in Paris where discretion is gold—you can review the verified profile of Trans Escort Sandy, which spells out her services, boundaries, and booking process so you know exactly what to expect and can plan a comfortable, worry-free evening.

    So, Which City Was “Best”?

    It depends. I know, that sounds like a

  • France vs. Texas: My Real-World Size Test

    I kept hearing, “Texas is bigger than France.” Cool line. But how big, really? So I tested it the way I live—by going there, driving, and timing it. I used Google Maps, my old Rand McNally road atlas, and the ViaMichelin planner. Then I stacked the facts against how it actually felt on the ground.

    You know what? The numbers and my legs agreed. If you want the blow-by-blow data set, I laid it all out in a separate piece right here — my real-world size test of France vs. Texas.

    The quick math (plain and simple)

    • Texas: about 268,596 square miles (695,662 km²)
    • Metropolitan France (including Corsica): about 213,000 square miles (around 551,500 km²)

    If you’d like to see those figures plotted on interactive maps, JustFrance.org has some handy visual tools that really drive the comparison home. Another quick visualization tool is MapFight’s simple overlay of France and Texas, which puts the size gap in a single frame.

    So, Texas is roughly a quarter bigger than France. Think 1.25 times. Not a tiny gap, but not a blowout either.

    How it felt when I crossed both

    Here’s the thing. The math says one story. Your body tells another.

    • Crossing Texas by car feels endless. I drove El Paso to Houston on I-10. That’s about 745 miles. A full day on the road—desert, pumps, Buc-ee’s, and lots of bugs on the windshield. I hit Houston sore and starved.
    • Crossing France “felt” shorter, but only because the trains fly. Paris to Marseille on the TGV took me a bit over 3 hours. By car, that same trip is about 480 miles and can eat up a day with tolls and traffic.

    So yes, Texas is bigger. But France shrinks when you use fast rail. That’s the twist.

    Real examples I ran (and lived)

    • Texas: El Paso to Dallas is about 635 miles. I did it with a stop in Midland for tacos and gas. It was a long, dry push. The sky keeps going; the road does too.
    • Texas: Dallas to Brownsville? Roughly 550 miles. I hit it in spring. Bluebonnets at first, then palms near the Gulf. Same state, totally new vibe.
    • France: Lille to Marseille is about 1,000 km (620 miles) by road. I tried the train. Around 5 hours. Croissant, nap, sea. Wild how quick that felt.
    • France: Bordeaux to Nice is about 800 km (500 miles). I drove most of it. Vineyards, toll booths, tunnels, and then the water. It took a full, real day.

    Funny thing—those France drives match Texas hauls mile for mile. The scale is close enough that your snack plan matters.

    Planning your own loop through France? I rounded up the cities that stole my heart (with all the lived-in moments that made them stick) in this guide to my favorite French cities.

    A map test I actually did

    I ran a little “overlay” test with Google Maps. It’s not fancy GIS, just a sanity check.

    • Put Paris roughly where Austin is. Marseille lands near Brownsville. Lille slides toward Dallas. Bordeaux sits west, like Midland or maybe Lubbock. It’s not perfect, but it tracks.
    • Then I flipped it. El Paso to Houston is longer than Paris to Marseille. Dallas to El Paso roughly matches Lille to Marseille. That felt right in my bones after both trips.

    Honestly, the side-by-side view made the comparison click more than any stat sheet.

    Time vs. size (the brain teaser)

    This tripped me up. Texas is bigger, yes. But:

    • In France, high-speed rail eats distance. You blink, and cities hop past.
    • In Texas, highways rule. They’re fast, but not train fast. You still feel the miles.

    So France “feels” smaller if you ride the rails. Texas “feels” bigger if you drive. Both can take a whole day. It just depends on the wheels.

    Little travel notes that stuck

    • Snacks matter. In Texas, I stopped at Buc-ee’s in Katy and left with a bag the size of a pillow. In France, I grabbed a jambon-beurre and a tiny espresso at Gare de Lyon, and that was perfect.
    • Weather plays a part. West Texas heat makes a long drive feel longer. In Provence, the Mistral wind hit me at the car door and I woke right up.
    • Tolls and gas change the math. French toll roads are smooth but pricey. Texas has long free stretches, but gas adds up over 700+ miles.
    • Curious how the two fare as climate change turns up the heat? This EDF comparison on who’s bigger, hotter, and more prepared offers an eye-opening climate lens on the France–Texas matchup.
    • Long drives mean lonely hotel nights; during one overnight stop I started reading about how some travelers bankroll their miles by performing online. For an eye-opening look at the realities behind that digital hustle, check out this candid cam-girl interview that unpacks the economics, safety tricks, and unexpected community behind webcam work.
    • Pulled into Gilbert, Arizona, on one Southwest swing and was surprised at how vibrant—and discreet—the after-hours scene can be. If you’re curious about connecting with an inclusive companion while passing through, this detailed guide to trans escorts in Gilbert breaks down who’s available, how the booking process works, and the etiquette that keeps everyone safe and relaxed.

    So… how big is France compared to Texas?

    • Texas is about 25% larger than metropolitan France.
    • A lot of major France drives match classic Texas hauls.
    • Trains in France make the country feel smaller than it is. Texas keeps its size honest with the wheel time.

    If you want my gut take after both: Texas is wider, wilder, and wears you down mile by mile. France is dense, quick to cross by train, but just as broad when you try it by car. Different tools, different feel.

    Would I do both again? Oh yeah. But I’d plan my snacks better—and maybe stretch more at rest stops. My knees still remember El Paso to Houston. My heart still remembers that first look at the Med rolling into Marseille.