But some incidents kept floating in my mind. For weeks, I had been judging whether it was worth writing it as a memento of my short visit.
Later, I read an IG post from Tita, my travel guide, which posted a quote from  Cesare Pavece, one of the most influential Italian writers and literary critics.
"Traveling is brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and  friends."
Once I read the quote, I felt that something was related to my experience in Paris. Of course, our traveling was far from brutality, but I encountered some strangers who helped me in the time I most needed.
It was already dark, cold and drizzling when we finally arrived in Paris.
We boarded the bus and swarmed a cramped hotel lobby, looking for warmth. Some of us stayed outside by the door, smoking. They must have longed for that moment while sitting on the bus for hours.
More than 30 people were in our group, and it took a while to settle the check-in process. I was queuing for the elevator when I heard someone make an announcement.
"The supermarket next to our hotel is closing soon. If you want to buy something for breakfast tomorrow, you better go now."
Without wasting any time, once I put my luggage in my room, I hurriedly went back down and went to the supermarket next door.
I will confess here: I love foraging around the supermarket, especially if the supermarket is new to me.
Like Casino supermarket here, it was considered new to me and I've never been to a French supermarket.
I like to see how fresh fruits and vegetables are nicely and neatly arranged. I even love to see processed food that comes in plastic or bottled packaging. Although, I avoid consuming that kind of food as much as possible.
 I am living proof that DNA has been passed down from generation to generation for thousands of years.
 My female ancestors used to forage for food in the bushes or forests, while my male ancestors hunted animals for protein.
And now here I am, foraging for food in the supermarket.
However, the supermarket was closing soon, and I had no time for leisure foraging. I quickly picked what I needed and rushed to the cashier. Unfortunately, the cashier with the attendant was already closed, so I had to self-check out.
Damn, I cursed myself for not learning how to self-checkout before. During our bus trip, we stopped for toilet breaks, which usually continued with buying coffee or snacks. There were some self-checkout machines, but I always preferred to go for a cashier attendant.
I prefer to deal with a living-smileless person than a soulless-cold-metal machine.
I peeked at the man next to me, who was doing a self-checkout for his groceries. It looked easy. All I needed was to scan the barcode.
I tried and failed. I repeated again and failed again. I knew I needed help.
Hoping for store attendants to help me was impossible. There were few of them, and they all were busy moving things around and preparing for store closing.
The only help I could get was from the man beside me, who had almost finished his self-checkout. I hesitated to ask for help since it was already late.
He might be very tired after a long day working. He just dropped by here to buy some groceries. All he wanted to do was go home, have dinner, and go to bed. How could I disturb him at this late hour?
Somehow, when he was about to leave, I poked his shoulder with the tip of my finger.
"Excuse me, could you help me with this?"
"Sure, no problem."
Then he showed me how to do it the correct way. Thanks to him, I could successfully finish my foraging, I mean my grocery shopping.
"Are you okay now, or do you want me to stay?"
Surprisingly, he offered to continue helping as he saw two other people like me queuing behind me. That's very nice of him.
I thanked him but declined his generous offer since I could help my friends.
I Â showed my friends how to do it and then left them to finish on their own.
However, I stumbled upon another problem on the way out. I needed the receipt with the barcode to be scanned to open the barrier.
I chose not to print the receipt, as I would throw it away anyway. So I just stood there, feeling stupid, waiting for a store attendant to open the barrier.
Suddenly, I heard a woman's voice from behind me.
"Follow me."
She walked past me, opened the barrier, and walked through.
"Quick... quick," she said with a hand gesture, telling me to do it quick.
I did as she asked me to and finally got safely to the other side of the barrier.
"Thank you." That's all I could say.
I walked back to the hotel and felt that those strangers' small acts of kindness gave my heart a warm sentiment.
I wrote in the beginning that we arrived in Paris. It may not be Paris since it's located outside the Paris arrondissement. To be exact, we stayed at  Villejuif, a small city in the southern suburbs of Paris. However, distance-wise, it's only 7 km from the center of Paris, so it's still Paris, right?
But it didn't matter; we just needed to walk a  few steps to the metro station, which is located in front of our hotel.
Paris is one of the big cities that has well-constructed public transportation. It gives an easy and fast way to get around Paris since it has a metro station in every 500-meter range.
Our guide briefed us that we should refrain from asking for direction from locals or anyone. They prefer not to be bothered with such petty questions since all the information and signages are well-informed. All you need is to read the directions before boarding.
Besides, with 14 lines and 300 stations, even the Parisian couldn't give that information point blank on the spot.
Paris Metro is a tough environment where every sort of person meets. Like any other big city, there are mostly ordinary decent people. Still, we should be aware of the presence of the ones with bad intentions.
We need to stay vigilant and always mind our belongings. Paris pickpockets are quite famous for targeting tourists.
However, I had a personal tough situation; I got stuck between the metro doors as I didn't move fast enough when boarding the train. I was panicking as the heavy doors squeezed my body tight enough to make me feel pain.
It was not the pain that scared me, but imagining the train moving while half of my body was hanging outside the train and dragging me along the dark tunnel. Â
However, before my imagination got wilder, two big, strong men, with their ultimate efforts, pushed the door open. They successfully opened the doors for a very short time, and I could unstuck myself.
I was shocked and relieved at the same time. It took a few seconds to process what had happened. After I came to my senses, they already gathered together by the pole a bit distant from me.
I didn't have a chance to thank you, but I was grateful for their kindness. They are strangers who don't hesitate to give a helping hand when needed.
Again, it sends a warm feeling to my heart.
Unfortunately, the most common stereotype of Parisians is they are rude. I know it's unfair to paint over 2 million Parisians with the same brush.
Are they really that rude? I don't know since I had almost zero interaction with them in my short visit.
Like any Westerner counterparts, in general, they are closed and unfriendly compared to Asians. They highly value their spaces and privacies. But it doesn't mean they don't bother to give helping hands when the time is needed.
Some of you may think there is nothing special in my story. Honestly, I don't even remember those strangers' faces, but I will remember their small acts of kindness.
