In the past, I never saw the appeal of picnics. To me it seemed a lot more effort than it was worth: you have to make sure everything is packed just so to avoid any spillage, there’s the constant shooing away of flies and everything just seems to get sticky by the end of it all. And there just never seems to be enough napkins.

Since I moved to Paris on Bastille Day (the 14th of July), I’ve been on more picnics in one summer than I have in all of my adult life. Some of the loveliest places where I’ve made a seat on the ground: Canal St. Martin near Republic, Champs de Mars by the Eiffel Tower, Pont des Arts by the Seine, The Parc de la Villette, Parc Monceau in the 8th.

Along the way, I love to look at what other pinickers have on their spread: cold pasta salads, crudités, cheese, bread and wine.

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Night picnics are even better. During the warm summer nights in Paris, it doesn’t get dark until nearly 10.

So what changed my mind about pinics?

I realized that sometimes all you is a bottle of wine, which makes life a lot easier. And when you have good company and this kind of view while chomping on a baguette, I have to say picnics aren’t too bad.

The weather has been grey for the last two days, signaling the end of summer and picnic season in Paris. And I was only just beginning my love affair with outdoor eating. Tant pis.

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