France by chance

PARIS NEVER CAME CLOSE to topping my list of “places to go”.  Actually, it probably wasn’t even in the top 100.  But here I am, boarding a flight at Charles De Gaulle.  Paris was four days and nights of ideal weather- plenty of sunshine, yet not sweltering hot.  From what I’ve heard and what I perceive to be true, many regard the city of lights as a most romantic city to spend a holiday.  Why are people so charmed?  Is it the art, the literature, and the music?  Is it the café-lined streets housing a most diverse crowd of inhabitants enjoying gourmet delicacies and seemingly warm conversations?  Perhaps it’s the common sight of embraces hello, and long kisses goodbye.  The politeness of Parisians is apparent all day long.  There are hellos in the elevators, held doors throughout the metro stations, and greetings in the bakeries and markets.  The wine flows like the River Seine, cutting through the city, keeping her alive and moving, gracefully dancing.  The architecture is magnificent, with each building carrying beauty.  Impressive columns, statues, monuments, gardens, fountains, carvings, and churches are so common that it’s almost too much.  The structures and spaces are all so nice that the individual beauty ceases to stand out and we’re left with a single, breathing, and gorgeous hunk of elegance that is the city of Paris.  And that's just the surface.  
[J-Pa with a guidebook, near the Pantheon]:

 

Yes, there’s the Eiffel Tower, which does tend to stand out.  Seen from various points in the distance, it pierces the hearts of so many with that cliché of romanticism.  I do appreciate big pieces of metal, and seeing so much metal up close wowed me.  I was over it after a short time.  It didn’t hit my gut, and I never expected it would have.  It didn’t disappoint, perhaps the lack of expectation being why.  The tower is quite unique, with a great merge of phallic height and feminine curvature.  As the last bit of daylight finally faded after 10 p.m., it was illuminated with a soft amber glow. 
[the Eiffel Tower]:

The grassy stretch to the south made for an ideal gathering of picnickers.  Large circles of friends and intimate pairs spread out comfortably upon blankets fill the lawn.  Facing the tower, one can watch the sun’s slow descent as the sky darkens and clouds turn from white, to pink, to grey.  From the base to the tip of the tower, white lights occasionally sparkled and danced to the cheers of the lounging, drunken crowd.  Champagne bottles popped as vendors made their rounds offering wine, beer, smokes, and souvenirs. 
[a woman, as seen from a boat along the Seine]:

 

As darkness settled into night, the crowd also darkened, emanating that wild, fake drunken energy.  It was during that hour that my dear companion, Jen, left to find a restroom.  I sat on the blanket, watching and listening to the others around me.  A moment turned into an unreasonably long time for her to be gone, and I began to worry.  In the meantime, I packed up our trash and leftover foods.  After more than half an hour, she finally returned and we were ready to go.  I hit the toilet in the way out, in the form of a squat among a dark patch of bushes.  To get back to our room, we rode the ageing, sturdy metro alongside some drunk, some quiet, interestingly dressed others.  We rolled into the space after midnight, and that was my last of four evenings in Paris.  I was exhausted and relieved to be through with such a splendid monster of a city.  
[the church @ Montemarte]: