Aside from a few insensate boors, Paris is almost universally admired. Usually loved.

The grand monuments of Paris generally are what is remembered by the visitor.  The Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe … the stations of the cross for the first-time Parisian pilgrim.

I have found myself appreciating small things, over the past four weeks. And I am going to set them down before I forget. Because even though we tell ourselves that we are subtle enough in soul and mind to remember the nuances … we mostly remember the Eiffel Towers, pyramids and Great Walls of the world.

So, my Top 10 list of “small Paris things” I find myself smiling about, even now:

10. Public transport. This probably is a big thing, isn’t it. But any individual ride on a subway or a bus seems a small thing. But you get within blocks of where you need to be, never entering a car, never buying gas, spending almost nothing. The midday, semi-empty buses, especially, are a grand bargain. You get a rolling tour of Paris while getting where you want to go. This is of inestimable value.

9. The cheese course. At any private dinner, and at any restaurant dinner of three courses or more, a cheese plate will turn up, with two to five cheeses on it. Sampling the variety and scope of French cheeses is an unexpected pleasure, especially for Yanks with little or no experience of cheese more complicated than American, Swiss or cheddar. I have eaten cheeses I never thought I would touch, and enjoyed them profoundly for those one or two bites. The pungent bleu, the buttery Camembert, the hard, sharp Comte. But it really is a Paris/France thing. I will not be having cheese courses when I get back to the States … because we don’t really do that.

8. Listening to Parisians speak. I grasp only the slightest fragments of what they are saying, but there is a definite pleasure to listening to elegant, well-formed French, and that is what the Better People speak here. The sonorous sounds that seem to emanate from the nose, the staccato of the hurried or angry speaker, the lilt of the feminine voice intoning a gay “bonjour.” I do believe I am better off not understanding it, because then I hear the music, not the lyrics.

7. The rose beds at Luxembourg Gardens. They are scattered around the grounds, and if you ever get tired of the big issues in life, you can stare at the bright pastels of the roses … and, yes, stop and smell them. It clears the mind and invigorates the spirit.

6. The twinkling of the lights at night on the Eiffel Tower. They go off at 10 p.m., 11, midnight and 1 a.m., for about five minutes, and comprise a fine,  small touch to a towering edifice. The lights run up and down the four legs of the tower, flashing gaily, and to see them is to be transported almost to a childlike state … almost like that first moment when the lights on a Christmas tree go on. Tourists flock to the Eiffel Tower at night to see the lights fire off, up close, though they can be seen for miles if you have an unobstructed view, and they are white and bright and seem wholesome and gay. And, of course,  cost you nothing.

5. Good, cheap wine. In the States, we have the idea that good wine and cheap wine are entirely separate concepts. Not so, in Paris, and in France. You can find quite nice wines for amazingly cheap prices. A bottle of rose for about $5. A red for maybe $7. We have grown particularly fond of a certain variety of Cote du Rhone and (because it’s August) one of rose … and they cost about $9 and $3.75, respectively. These are whole bottles, mind you. And I associate this amazing bargain, in my mind, with this city.

4. The old-book sellers along the Seine. I don’t buy from them, and I rarely peruse their offerings. Most are in French. But I love the idea. The entrepreneurs opens up the big locker they have rented,  along the quay, and spread out their wares … and the idea of being able to find some century-old version of Kipling or Victor Hugo, presumably bought up at an estate sale and read 10, 15 times by people no longer living … well, it’s interesting and it’s fun. I really ought to spend some time and work my way down the quay and see what I can find. Something good, I bet, for almost nothing.

3. Unrushed dining. This is a small thing with great value. No Paris bistro, cafe, brasserie … whatever … ever has tried to rush me out after eating or drinking. Once a table is yours, it is yours forever, if you so desire. This has a liberating effect on the mind and makes the purchase of a cup of tea or a glass of wine or pint of beer the right to own a bit of a restaurant for hours and hours. Liberating, it is.

2. A whiff of perfume while jogging. This is a pleasant olfactory surprise, one I have experienced maybe only once or twice anywhere in the world that isn’t Paris. I can be slogging around a course, quietly suffering … when a middle-class (and often middle-aged) woman strides past … and a scent of perfume lingers behind her and lifts my spirits. It happens here fairly regularly. I don’t anticipate it, though, and it always is an unanticipated pleasure. “Huff puff, huff puff … ahhh, that was nice.”

1. Baguettes. Better yet, warm baguettes recently out of the oven. With a hard (but not too hard) crust. With an interior that is marbled with pockets of air. With a bottom baked hard but short of burned. These marvels of culinary ingenuity are the pinnacle of global bread-making and cost 1.10 euro — about $1.50. To leave a boulangerie with a warm baguette in hand … is to be in a fine mood.