How dreamy to voyage to France, staying on an island that feels like your home-away-from-home! Writer Betsa Marsh recalls her trip to Ile Saint-Louis where she did what we should all aim to do when traveling, live like the locals (with a few tourist-musts along the way).

Save this article to Pinterest to help you plan your immersive trip to Ile St. Louis in France. Graphic by Real Food Traveler.

Left Bank, Right Bank, I’ve been fortunate to stay on both sides of the Seine. But for this trip – our first couple’s escape – I want to be in the very heart of Paris.

Short of pitching a tent atop the plaza of Notre Dame, the traditional center of the city, I’ve chosen the next isle over, Ile Saint-Louis. This little sliver in the Seine, along with Notre Dame’s Ile de la Cite, are the only two natural islands in the river.

I’m determined to create an illusion around our trip that this is our island, our neighborhood. We’ll eat, drink, shop and wander by sun and moon on these old cobbles and claim them as our own.

Nearly home—the signpost points to our beloved little island, Ile Saint-Louis.

Making Ourselves at Home on Ile St. Louis

After flying in from Poland, we zip to Ile Saint-Louis, drop our gear in our toy room and head out to explore our new ’hood. It’s getting late, so the café at the end of our street, rue Saint-Louis-en-I’Ile, reels us in. We sidle into a table inches away from its neighbors, and soon realize we’re in the Anglophone alcove. The American women to my right are intense over their wine, so we smile at the couple to my left. Soon the Australians are telling us about their day on the Somme battlefield, where the wife’s great-uncles fell during World War I. We tell them about our plans for Versailles. We’ve met our first neighbors, who live in an apartment just a few paces down our street.

Hungry for more? See where to eat in Paris near popular sites.

Breakfast is another island foray, wandering into another corner café. One waiter zips off to froth milk for my coffee while another saws off a slab of baguette. They’re chatty and cheerful and St. Regis becomes our breakfast hangout.

The baguettes are always ready at the St. Regis on Ile Saint-Louis.

A waiter hops up on the banquette to update the day’s menu at St. Regis on Ile Saint-Louis.

After immersion in the excesses of Kings Louis XIV-XVI and Marie Antoinette, we can’t wait to jam into the rush-hour train from Versailles back to our little isle. Our homing device takes us back to last evening’s cafe and a sidewalk cocktail.

Sure enough, the couple to our right is speaking Aussie English, and we’re comparing adventures in no time. The wife is busy in classes, while her husband criss-crosses the city. He spills one of the best secrets: City bus No. 69 is basically a hop-on hop-off service across the vastness of Paris. It stops at most of the tourist landmarks – he even bequeaths us his crinkled bus map.

Predictably, next morning we catch the baguette and coffee at our café, the St. Regis, then head for the bus. We hop off at Pere Lachaise Cemetery, and, also predictably, like the Americans we are, wander the maze to rocker Jim Morrison’s grave. With a moment along the way to honor Oscar Wilde and those legendary lovers, Heloise and Abelard.

Yes, we’re Americans—we leave Ile Saint-Louis to pay respects to The Doors’ Jim Morrison in Pere Lachaise Cemetery.

Hungry for more? Betsa tells us about marzipan sweets in Toledo, Spain.

Re-catching No. 69, we cruise the Eiffel Tower and stay on so long that two different bus drivers show us the door and expect us to leave. We cling to squatters’ rights until we wear out our ticket, then contentedly tromp back to Ile Saint-Louis. We have everything here, dozens of bars and cafes, boutiques and what is often called the best ice cream parlor in Paris, Berthillon. We resolve to save ice cream for our finale.

Instead, we succumb to the tiny shirt shop across from our hotel. The owner wants to talk American politics, drilling down almost to our voting precinct. And he wants to sell my husband a cool shirt, emblazoned with dozens of pub coasters from around the world. Yes, it may turn out to be a case of Muumuu Syndrome, where a travel treasure just won’t translate at home. But it’s a showstopper whenever he’s brave enough to pull it out of the closet.

My splurges are much more transitory: roasted almonds and fabulous macarons from the confiserie down the street. Each bite is more than a Euro each, but at this point, who cares? I tell myself the stash is for the flight home, but in reality, it never makes it off the island.

Under gorgeous skies, day and night, we angle in and out of boutiques, exhaling to make room for more shoppers. The beauty of this tiny island is that most streets, whether decreed or not, become pedestrian esplanades by the sheer number of strolling couples and running children. We all spill off the skinny sidewalks, unafraid of cars zooming up behind.

Tiny as Ile Saint-Louis is, we realize we haven’t explored one section. The chalkboard of Auberge de la Reine Blanche lures us in, a jumble of petite wooden tables and farmhouse antiques running up each wall. Nothing fancy, just a revelation of onion soup and beef Bourguignon as their creators meant them to be.

The Auberge de la Reine Blanche offers its menu du jour.

The Auberge de la Reine Blanche down the street from our hotel has totally mastered French onion soup and beef Bourguignon.

Our island fantasy must, of course, end, but not before we spin out every moment. We walk along the Seine for miles on a serene Sunday morning, heading to the Bastille Metro and a tour of hidden treasures with a Parisian guide. Jean-Claude is a delight, but soon we want to amble back and spend the rest of the day on our little bit of river, our tiny jot of land.

We’re blessed with another glorious sky, warm enough for that ice cream. But the line wends across the street, and each time we check, more people have joined the queue for our Berthillon.

Finally, dragooned by an early flight, we let our sundae dream slip away. With a silent pact to savor that ice cream, next time on our island.

When You Go to Ile St. Louis:

Get more information about Paris by visiting en.parisinfo.com. To plan your trip through Expedia, click on this affiliate link.

-Story and photos by Betsa Marsh

RealFoodTraveler.com is an affiliate member of Expedia.com and may receive a small commission on travel booked through the site. However, it won’t change your searching, pricing, or booking experience at all.