At Easter 2002, I journeyed to Paris for the first time, and was sucked into the tourist-vortex never to see the real Paris. This time is so totally different. Yes, I am tourist, but one trying not to think like a tourist. I am trying not to do anything that I have to pay to enter. And I spend half my day either at home or within 100m.
Top left, cunningly disguised, Tour Eiffel lurks behind that central tree. This next image is right at the foot of Tour Eiffel, beside a concrete wasteland. I love the eye with which they create their massed plantings - must use a bristle rather than a trowel.
Flower shops flood out onto the footpath, such is the spring growth. I think one could assess the socio-economic standing of a city block by peeking at the number and verdancy of its flower shotps. If I want to smell the metaphorical roses, I sit down and sniff 'til my heart's content. The lucky thing is that, as I don't have a garden, the potted colour loses its temptation.
I took these shots on the way down Rue de Grenelles, through Champs de Mar, up Jardins de Trocadero and into Passy Cimitere yesterday. The statue of Benjamin Franklin, with which I complete this post, is just outside the cemetery.
I have just skyped with my girls ... so everything is coming up roses!