When I arrive in Annecy, I heave a sigh of relief. The morning has been stressful, entailing a mad dash across congested Parisian streets and a subsequent missed train. But I’m here now, and even in my dazed state I’m bowled over by the splendour.
Paris is serendipitous but never accidental. The city has 470,000 trees and they’re all measured and documented. Its streets are preened just like its inhabitants, limestone buildings blending into a creamy velouté for your eyes to lap up.