We began the day (a bit late; time change, you know) with gorgeous sunshine, but by the time we’d strolled to Île de la Cité, clouds had rolled in, and were transitioning from white to grey. So, here, around the backside of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris (so fancy architecturally—not from pure decoration like the door-façade—that it seems like this is the end that might make you want to become Catholic*), you can tell we’re probably about to get a message from gawd. Or something. (Meteorologists call it a on-again-off-again light rain, trying to become full-on light rain. Légère pluie here.)
Still, we persisted with our footwork, crossing the bridge to the other island, Île Saint-Louis. Here, the légère pluie lost its intermittent quality. We did manage to find the restaurant we’d lunched at aeons ago, and the “little” church I remembered (crane your neck; the streets are narrow, and the roofline is high).
Undaunted by the pluie, we turned southish, detouring through part of the Jardin du Luxembourg. We traipsed around the back of the Sénat (or maybe the front; qui sait?), where I lost count of the number of guards we saw (distracted perhaps by the flowers and their plexiglass guard-stations, with all their electronic communication gear quite visible).
We had quite a trek, in short. Then, The Guru got the SIM to start working, but it may be out of data-money—there’s always something.
* Consider that the exterior long was painted quite colorfully, which would have made this view POP. Note, too, that the building is owned by France (or is it the city?, at any rate, not the Catholic Church), although managed by the clergy.