When Denise Acabo, owner of Etoile D’Or tells me she is 74 I make her repeat it twice, maybe three times.

Her braided hair and schoolgirl outfit aren’t the only thing that make her seem like a young girl. Her skin is barely marked by wrinkles and glows with a youthful complexion. And when she shows you around the shop, she gets excited about every product.

“It’s the chocolate,” she says, “I eat it every day.”

When I tell her I’m Canadian she tells me she once told a Canadian journalist that “I don’t eat anything that doesn’t give me an orgasm.  They loved that,” she smiles.

She is the only one to carry Bernachon chocolates outside of the original shop in Lyon.  It is one of the only chocolate stores in the world that makes chocolate from scratch from cacao beans.  Paris food writer David Lebovitz has raved so much about the Kalagou chocolate bar, filled with salted butter caramel, that she often sells out because so many Americans stop in to buy some.

She shows me her display case of chocolates, my eyes widening like a six-year-old, and tells me has the best chocolates from all around France, and can put you together a box of the best in the land, from Lyon to Toulouse.  I now know where I’ll be doing all of my shopping before I leave.

She also has some of the oldest candy tins, beautiful antique designs packaging perfect pralined nuts and black licorice. She wraps a lot of her goodies by hand in 19th century-style wrapping paper with visual jokes for kids.  She says it is impossible to find these old prints but that she buys them out by the thousands.

Her joie de vivre is incredible, and she knows she has something special. She has piles and piles of articles in travel magazines and guide books, coming all the way from Tokyo, Germany and some of my favorite Paris food writers like Clotide and David Lebovitz.

I ask her how she keeps her prices so low- there are many things around five euros- and she tells me she doesn’t earn much profit.

“You have to love what you do. And my customers have to appreciate it, that makes it all worth it,” she says.

I leave the store telling her I’ll be back soon.  As fate would have it, I’m currently living right down the street.

It’s stores like this that make me realize I’ll miss Paris.  Because there are moments like this that seem right out of a fairytale, and women like Acabo, who know life is too short not to eat the best chocolate in France every day.

I used to come to the Latin Quarter to listen to music in smoky bars and slowly sip my vodka.

Back then I was still a teenager, new to the city, and I found comfort in the small tourist streets by place St.Michel.  Live music and stiff drinks made me feel less alone, and I came back night after night in search of distractions.

But these days it isn’t bars or tourist spots I’m after.  Even the Notre Dame’s line ups hold me back from climbing to the top to see the amazing view and intricate gothic architecture.

These days I go to the Latin Quarter hunt down specialty food stores on the rue Mouffetard, to stroll through the Luxumbourg gardens and to explore the small boutique laden streets that lead into Sevres-Babylone and to the Bon Marche.

Today I walked around, notebook and camera in hand, trying to plot the perfect route that would provide a delicious day for any young woman.  I hope that whoever follows my walk shares my love of picnics in the park, vintage Chanel, incredible pastries, tea salons and hearty French food at the end of the night.

Sabre, a colourful dishware store on the Rue Aux Quatres Vents

love bowls at Sabre

Brilliant window at a children’s clothing store. Can you spot your favorite designer?

Beautiful bites at Gerard Mulot

La Cremerie, a tiny wine shop and bar

Apero menu

Mariage Frères Tea

I overheard this man at Fouchet telling the saleswoman “These are for my wife. She doesn’t like grand gestures.” After he had her carefully select a perfect selection of sweets.

Tea time at Foucher

• Sabre
  4 Rue des Quatre Vents
  A little shop with some of the most beautiful dish ware in vibrant colors and all shapes and sizes.

• Foucher
  134 Rue Bac
  A lovely little chocolate shop with a tea room in the back where you can sit and enjoy a coffee, tea and even a tasting plates of chocolates or other sweets.

There are worse ways to spend your birthday than drinking martinis with a view of the Eiffel tower and one of your best friends by your side.

Sometimes I feel so lucky I wonder how I deserve all of the wonderful people that come into my life.

I wonder how I end up in these magical moments, and then I realize that if you want something badly enough, you can make it happen.

My birthday started at 2 a.m. that morning.  I came home from a late night of babysitting and opened the paper bag in my closet that read ‘Do not open until October 17th‘, in my mother’s fine handwriting.

I unwrapped a candle, a great new book and the scarf I’d been coveting and grinned.  It is nice to feel so loved.  In true birthday tradition, I lit the candle and put on the Beatles ‘They say it’s your birthday’ and danced around the room.

I fell asleep around 3 a.m and woke up a few hours later.  I threw on some comfy clothes, my boots and my winter jacket and headed out the door.  I stopped at the fruit stand and bought a big bag of medjool dates, the perfect birthday breakfast.

I ate my dates as I walked past the Louvre and along the Tuileries to hotel Meurice.  Here’s where we get really fancy.  My boyfriend wanted to me to start my day off right and booked me a massage in one of the city’s great spas.

The hotel concierge led me along the marble floor to the elevator and told me to take it downstairs to the spa.  There I was greeted and led to the changing room, where I giddily put on the fluffy robe and slippers.

I tested out the sauna and steam room, unsure of the protocol in taking off your clothes I wrapped a towel around me (thankfully as a man passed me at one point).  But had most of the morning alone to myself.  Eventually a woman come and told me it was time for my massage.

For the next 50 minutes my body travelled to a far away land of pleasure of which I hoped to never return.  When she whispered for me to get ready at my own pace, I considered kidnapping her, then remembered I had a day of birthday celebrations ahead of me.

The best gift was waiting for me at the apartment.  I walked up the stairs of my building to find one of my closest childhood friends grinning in a big grey sweater.  ”Gilly!!!”  she yelled.  My friend Jenny flew over from London for the weekend to see me.  We hugged, got ready slowly, had a good skype session with my parents then took off wandering.

We caught up over big organic salads, a rich vegetable lasagna and organic red wine at Le Potager du Marais. We made up for our vegetable consumption by hitting up the chocolate store next, where we filled a bag, and I walked down the street with chocolate covered fingers and the biggest child-like grin on my face.

We walked and explored, kicked back strong espressos, then bought some hummus, tapenade, baguette and a bottle of champagne for our pre-dinner party.

At the apartment we got decked out, threw on some heels, talked over cups of champagne then ran down the street to catch our reservation at Georges, the sexy rooftop restaurant at the top of the Georges Pompidou centre.

It was a gorgeous evening of small bites and strong martinis.  We celebrated my birthday in style, and I was happy to have someone so close to me by my side.

We continued the celebration all weekend, with a picnic in the park, more chocolate, a visit to my Turkish family and a long late night walk around Paris.

Today I get back into my work groove, with my heart rejuvenated and my confidence back in place.

I’m 23-years-old, I feel good about what I’m doing, I have people that I love me and I’m living my life the way I want to.

Early celebration in my apartment with a gift from my mother

Poppin the champagne

Jenny and her glass (no flutes in this apartment)

At the end of the night after many martinis, rose and free magazine in hand

Picnic in the park

Assortment of goodies

A lot of this was consumed

My gorgeous, playful friend getting silly with her spoon

On the roof of the Arab museum

Mint tea on the roof of the Arab museum

I love her. And yes that is the same jacket, a hilarious surprise.

Some mornings are heavy.

Heavy grey skies and heavy emotions made it hard to crawl out of bed this morning.  After a strong black coffee I created a walking route that included several specialty food shops that I knew would lift me up in no time.

First stop on my list: G Detou.  After reading David Lebovitz’s  description of the place I knew I had to go.  G Detou is a play on words meaning “I have everything“, and as David promised, they really do.

The small shop has everything a baker and cook can dream of, with shelves lined with bulk chocolate, flavored syrups, tea, sugar, honey, dried fruit, nuts and more.  My whole face and heart lifted once I entered the cozy space.  When I went to the counter to pay for my caramels and tea, I had to take my receipt to another counter, where a small older woman that stood behind glass like a bank teller took my visa, then gave me my receipt to take back to the other counter to receive my goods.  This strange exchange is common in France, where many butchers, fish stores and specialty food shops will have you get your receipt at one spot, pay at another and come back to pick up your purchases.

With the magic of G. Detou running through my bones, I took off down Rue Montergueil, where pastry shops, fruit stands, butchers and bakers all whispered my name.  I bought a calissou, a small almond paste cookie at  A La Mere de Famille. The small chocolate store that was founded in 1761 carries an air of old France, and truly won me over when the woman behind the counter allowed me to sample a flavored calissou of my choice.  A man in the shop suggested the prune flavor and I couldn’t refuse.  She warned me it tasted of Armagnac and I warned her I was Irish.  The taste was subtle and played a small song on my tongue before I promised her I’d be back every day to try the different flavors.  Wait until she finds out I wasn’t joking.

From a bountiful fruit vendor I bought big juicy medjool dates, a bag of almonds and some tropical dried fruit to fuel my walking.  The dates were large and decadent and I licked them off my fingers while exploring the street further.

After Montergueil I went on a quest for Pierre Marcolini, a chocolate shop by a world champion pastry chef who made Belgian chocolate a worldwide favourite.  He was one of the first to make square chocolate bars and flavor his cocoa beans which he selects and roasts himself, with thyme, tea, rose and orange blossom.  The store was immaculate and I stole a few samples of milk chocolate before I decided the Japanese streets of  Rue Saint-Augustin and Rue Saint-Anne by the Place d’Opera were more exciting.

After fulfilling my desires of exploring Japanese and Korean grocery stores I left empty handed and re-fuelled with an espresso.  It was here that I realized I forgot my phone at the apartment and wouldn’t get a call from my boss telling me what time to come in to work.

It was also here that I found a set of keys I didn’t recognize in my bag, and got the sinking feeling that I can’t keep moving around forever.  I love being here, but I’m starting to wonder how long I can live out of a suitcase before losing my mind, the love of my life, most of the things I own, and my love of travel.

I am living my dream but at times it is hard.  It is lonely, stressful, and a difficult balance to keep all the areas of my life in tune.  But like G Detout, I have everything: dreams, love, support, family, and my mind, which hasn’t left me just yet.

Rue Montergueil

Perfect rainy day style and buckets of flowers

G.Detout, the store that sells everything

Just a glimpse of what’s inside

Quenching my thirst in style with environmentally friendly packaging

Playing part in Operation Beautiful

A sneak peak at the care package you can win!  Contest closes Friday.