Paris in the Springtime...Cliche?

Paris is absolutely stunning at the moment. There are more flowers currently blooming around this city than I can adequately convey. The parks are all planted to the hilt with various buds in various colors, the grass is suddenly a lustrous shade of green, and everyday new trees are coming back to life. Against the monochromatic backdrop of the buildings, the streets, and the Seine, the juxtaposition of all this color and vibrant vegetation looks truly gorgeous. This sudden bloom, for me, epitomizes Paris on the whole. Her timing is exemplary. Meaning: just when you are fed up with winter, with having endured so many months of gray and drab and cold and yuck, she pops up all awash in color and blooming to the Nth degree. You instantly forget that she was ever anything but breathtaking and you fall in love all over again. Not sure why I keep calling Paris a "she." Makes me a bisexual lover of inanimate things, which is a rather unexpected life twist. Whatever, things could certainly be worse. I could love ferrets, for example. But anyway, just as when you are so irritated at being repeatedly ill-treated by a baker, or when you are about to pop with frustration and confusion because your bank is inexplicably fermer on a random Friday morning--AGAIN, you round a corner and are presented with a magnificent glimpse of gothic architecure, or a gleaming gold-domed building, or an impeccably dressed elderly lady carrying an armful of exquisite bright orange tulips. And suddenly, after being confronted with a shot of perfection, you remember that Paris is a city with something aesthetically arresting around each and any corner. You forgive each and any transgression with a sigh and a chuckle (assuming you are one to chuckle, of course)--the way you might forgive a naughty puppy for chewing your favorite shoes. Not that I know anything about that. Except I do. And Bruce, I am talking to you. Back to Paris though. Even though I well document my frustrations and confusions with interpersonal intercultural interactions here (just seeing how many words beginning with "inter" I could consecutively string together there), I can never stay irritated for very long because the city has so much beauty and near-perfection to offer in the form of food, architecture, or life in general. So Paris in the Spring time has always seemed to me to be the cliche of all cliches. Yet some things in life have earned the reputation they have for sound reasons. Admittedly, this situation is not the case for everything that has a reputation. Like, Krispy Kreme donuts, for example. All that hype, but are they really that good? I deign to say I find them average at best. But Paris in the spingtime really is all that it is cracked up to be. I hope you have or will have the chance to experience it for yourself soon enough.