Paris 2006.
An Arc de Triomphe photo montage.
Again, one of the many buildings I, for the life of me, cannot remember the name of.
Golden gates to....sigh.
La Defense.
I wish I could go again. I'd buy Ispahan and vanilla macarons at Laduree, try real duck confit and eat croissants for breakfast, visit flea markets and food halls, and work up the guts to walk into Louis Vuitton in the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
Looking at the photos four years on, I can hardly remember taking so many beautiful photos of this place.
I recall snooty salespeople, locals who replied our question "Parlais vous Anglais?" with "Do you speak French?", and streets that stank of dog pee. Tall, skinny women dressed in form-fitting black trenchcoats. A sea of black suits at the La Defense.
An Arc de Triomphe photo montage.
Again, one of the many buildings I, for the life of me, cannot remember the name of.
Golden gates to....sigh.
The pictures belie the rain, the early nightfalls, and us living on a combination of kebabs and crepes.
View from the top of the Arc de Triomphe, the all too famous Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
La Defense.
Saint Chapelle, with its legendary stained glass windows.
In and out of Notre Dame, paean to Gothic Architechture.
The inverted pyramid at the bottom of the Louvre.
I wish I could go again. I'd buy Ispahan and vanilla macarons at Laduree, try real duck confit and eat croissants for breakfast, visit flea markets and food halls, and work up the guts to walk into Louis Vuitton in the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.
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