Haute pasta

Paris A terrace with a view. City lights, warm evening air. To the east the magnificent cathedral of Sacré Coeur, lit up in blue. But where was that icon of icons, La Tour Eiffel I craned my neck westwards, aha there it was, not just lit up but sparkling We saw the tower everywhere, from the bridge, the boat. We picnicked in front of it. Walked towards it, under it. We marvelled, gaped, wondered how they did it. We sat in the park and gazed at it (definitely more appealing from some distance). We drank a toast to it. We shed the city for the quieter, more picturesque streets of Montmartre. More splendid views of the sprawling city. Amazingly, from here the Eiffel Tower was nowhere to be seen. We needed the loo and espied the souvenir shop, aha, the tower was here again Countless versions, even&hellipEiffel Tower-shaped, multi-coloured pasta. We could eat it too