A Ramble in Le Jardin de Luxembourg...

For those of you who didn't catch it, the title above refers to the title of a poem by the Earl of Rochester. I have a particular affinity with this poem because this is when my writing drastically improved--writing about this poem in comparison to John Donne's "The Flea" for my college T.A. crush.
Anyway, the next day, my Irish love and I went to Sarkozy’s house, walking and talking our way around the Luxembourg Palace. The fountain had a myriad of people that surrounded it, and whether they were the tourists or the crème de la crème of Paris, most were watching the others.

There was a thoughtful silence as we walked around the wrought iron fence that enclosed the Jardin de Luxembourg, looking at the display of current photo exposition, which exhibited beautiful aerial shots of the splendors of the earth and breathtaking photographs of the most memorable events of the 20th century—some sad, and some happy. Apparently, knowing this particular outdoor photo expo at the Palais de Luxembourg is a must-do for every posh Parisian.


There are also those that advocate turning the park into a NYC-like Central Park in Paris. I guess that explains the runners and the old hat ladies. But, I bet Luxembourg gardens compete with the Palais des Tuileries, next to the Louvre, for that "central park" title. What do I think? Well, Luxembourg Gardens would make a prime and central location, being close to the renowned Sorbonne University (below). It also just has that personal feel to it. But Tuileries is also just magnificient, and alot bigger, too.

The best part was that the photos from the exposition were illuminated at night, which we noticed while we were walking by another day. Make sure to take a stroll by here for a little bit of all--the romance, art, and people.
That is me in Luxembourg Garden, above, with the Parthenon of Paris far behind me.

Then when you are sufficiently tired, and not TOO tired, since the French insist on savoring every aspect of life and being exhausted will not allow that, walk across the street for a cup of espresso and a luscious pastry. One of these extravagant cafés will surely help you soak in all the charm around you.

If that isn't enough, or you have had just about enough of the rude French waiters and no one can understand you and your feet are about to fall off and you are stressed out because you have longed forever to inhale a cigarette with true nonchalance, or all of the above, perhaps a Gauloise will calm you. Although I don't really promote them...

Not a smoker? Well, every Francophile makes sacrifices of health.

Just kidding.

Circa 1960, here are two famous Frenchmen who were Gauloise smokers and obvious cigarette connoisseurs--the writer Joseph Kessel and writer/philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre.