An afternoon in Paris.
A spring afternoon, in Paris.
A spring afternoon, in Paris before heading south to taste wine in Bourgogne and Provence. That’s the ticket.
We spent some glorious time meandering, arm-in-arm around the city of love and light. A feeling persists: that of time spent at the start of a trip. Time spent in a moment that hatches the whole of travel pleasure. Knowing that the next weeks hold new treasures: fantastic hotels, dream meals, world-class wine, lots of conversations en français. The canal-side drives, the where-are-our-coins tolls into Monaco, the cellar chats and the sun-seeped rosé hours.
It’s all ahead, it’s all assured and waiting. This started, for me, on an afternoon in Paris.