“That’s it, Paris!,” I think to myself. It was a good three days, full of sights and culture. Standing in Gare du Nord, I patiently waited with my family while we showed our tickets. The serious faced ticket taker told us we still had time till our train took off. I looked over at my aunt. She knew exactly what I was thinking. Crépes. I’ve been telling her that I wanted to try a crépe in Paris, but with so many things to cover in just three days, we couldn’t find the right time - until now. There were around thirty minutes left until we took off, which meant there was enough time to run to the nearby café and grab treats. Getting off the elevator with the clear walls surrounding us, I excitedly left the station with my aunt, ready to buy some crépes. Not only would it be my first time trying a crépe, but I would be trying an actual French one, straight from a café in Paris.

I stepped into the small, dimly lit café, which didn’t consist of much people. The man behind the counter greeted us with a warm welcome, and we returned the kindness with a smile. My aunt ordered five chocolate and banana crépes for the five of us, me, both of my parents, herself, and my little brother. Once the nice man took our order, he jumped right into making the crépes for us. As he made them, I stared, amazed at his culinary skills. He first spread the mix with his special spoon, then covered it in chocolate. He quickly closed it up in a nice triangle, and topped it with bananas and more chocolate. In less than ten minutes, the man had all five crépes ready, stacked up on one another. The aroma of warm chocolate hung in the air of the small café. My aunt paid the man, and we quickly crossed the street to get back to the station, just in case it was time to get on the train. As a family, we decided to eat the crépes once we got on the train, so we could enjoy them more comfortably. Five minutes into the train ride, we took out the crépes and distributed them amongst ourselves. I opened up the aluminum foil to a beautiful masterpiece, a thin bread filled with chocolate, covered in bananas and drizzled in more chocolate. There was chocolate oozing out, causing my mouth to water immediately. I stared at it for a good ten seconds. “Do it, Tasnim,” I thought to myself. “Dig in.”

I took my first bite of the messy, chocolate crépe. It felt like heaven in my mouth. There was so much chocolate in my mouth, with just a small piece of banana, it seemed perfect. I chewed in slow motion, savoring every bit of chocolatey goodness that was currently dancing on my taste buds. The train was moving on its way back to London and I was taking some more bites.

A few minutes later, I realized how fast this train was traveling. It felt like the trains I took back home, good old New York City. Ignoring my thoughts about the train, I took some more bites. After I ate around a fourth of the crépe, I put it down, giving myself a break. A few minutes later, I felt nauseous. My head was starting to spin, and there was a weird sort of pain in my stomach. The train was in full speed and I felt like I was about to puke. I decided to ignore the weird feeling, and pay more attention to this crépe I had to finish. I took another bite and realized I could barely swallow it. I felt like everything was going to come hurling out of my mouth any second. I was confused. Was there something wrong with this crépe? There couldn’t be, the man made it right in front of my very eyes, everything was fine with the crépe. Then why did I feel like I was about to throw up like a little child who just came out of a thrilling roller coaster ride? I realized the cause of my nausea and this sick feeling. Motion sickness. Eating a warm, chocolatey dessert in a moving vehicle was not the best idea. Lying to my family that I will finish the leftovers later, I got that thing out of my sight. Excusing myself for the bathroom, I rushed and stood over the toilet, expecting to throw all of it up.

All of my excitement in trying my first crépe, all down the drain. I felt like there was warm chocolate and bananas stuck in my throat, but not the savory kind, the nasty, rotten kind. The train kept going in full speed, and I held on to the sink to keep my balance. I was already dizzy and there was a gross, sick feeling in me that I wanted to get rid of. I was still standing over the toilet, waiting. I was in that position for a few minutes, and then I gave up. Nothing came out, though I wish it did. I might have felt a little better. I returned back to my seat, closed my eyes and leaned my head on the back of the seat. The nauseating feeling still didn’t go away, but I tried my best to ignore it. I still had the crépe in front of me, but I couldn’t even look at it. I threw it out, relieved, though there was a part of me that felt bad. There was half of it left, and I hate wasting food. But I couldn’t keep it. There was no way on earth I would be able to take even a tiny bite of that thing anymore.

To this very day, I am unable to eat anymore crépes. Coming close to one brings back the horrible experience on the train, and the same nauseating feeling.