After sidestepping the Eiffel Tower, the next thing to do is thoroughly avoid the glorified Arc de Triomphe, as well as the well-known shopping strip that extends east from the open mouth of the arch, like a long ugly tongue.

Darrell Hartman cocks a snook at one of the world’s Seven Wonders and wanders as far away from the Eiffel Tower as he can!

In describing Paris, one struggles to avoid clichés; in visiting Paris, to avoid the Eiffel Tower.

Somehow, the image of Gustave Eiffel’s steel quadruped has come to represent a city whose average street corner is more interesting than this dominant landmark, a 1000-foot monstrosity that was built to commemorate the French Revolution but looks like it should be propping up electrical wires. On T-shirts and elsewhere, the Eiffel Tower symbolises France itself. Call it the world’s heaviest hieroglyph.

It is the monarch of the Paris skyline. The Statue of Liberty, that other soaring icon of French origin, sits exiled in New York Harbour against a backdrop of Manhattan skyscrapers; the Eiffel Tower, however, enjoys a central prominence, since all of Paris’ other tall structures are required by law to keep their distance. Tourists see the towering office buildings at La Défense and Montparnasse as mere shadows on the horizon.

So, just how does one avoid this attention-hogging edifice? The architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, once said of a tower he detested, that he would prefer to be in it, because that way he wouldn’t have to look at it. But then, Wright could ascend the eyesore he was describing, free of charge. The lift to the top of the Eiffel Tower will cost you a little over 10 Euros, not to mention the indignity of paying to ride a lift, in the first place.

My advice, then, is to get a quick look at the tower from Trocadéro – just across the Seine – and then be on your way. While you’re at Trocadéro, step into the Musée de L’Homme, or Museum of Man, whose magnificent summary of the evolution of the human race begins in 250,000 B.C. and ends at the present day. Here is a good place to point out that Paris and its museums are rarely accused of being humble.

After sidestepping the Eiffel Tower, the next thing to do is thoroughly avoid the glorified Arc de Triomphe, as well as the well-known shopping strip that extends east from the open mouth of the arch, like a long ugly tongue. Many travellers, not to mention Parisians, dismiss the Champs-Elysées strip as overcrowded, overpriced and overly American – with its American tourists, Hard Rock Café, Planet Hollywood, two-storeyed McDonald’s and blockbuster cinemas. And, they are right to do so.

So, instead, do your shopping farther east on the Rue de Rivoli. Don’t worry, there’s a McDonald’s there too. But the main thing to know about Rivoli is that it is an ideal place to enter the most charming part of Paris: the Marais.

Marais is French for marsh, which is exactly what this classy historical neighborhood was until the 12th century, when the wetlands were filled in and made into gardens. Towards the end of the 14th century, King Charles V moved his royal court to the Marais. Over the next four centuries, the area flourished, as both a seat of creative and intellectual activity and a stage for aristocratic showboating. For rural gentry of the 17th century, a hôtel particulier (private town mansion) in the Marais was all the rage and, sneaking a peek at one, beyond every other gate you find, is one of the primary pleasures of strolling through this quarter today.

Another one is visiting the Musée Picasso, housed in a lovely hôtel that was built in 1659. Picasso reportedly once told feminist Gertrude Stein, “I want an old house,” and since 1974, when a historic building was dedicated to his legacy, the great artist has had one, complete with a garden and stone courtyard. The collection is extensive but not exhausting. When I was there last September, I left the exhibition in awe of Picasso – his broad talents, his genius for innovation – and felt both an inspiration to create something myself and a renewed sympathy for all those artists who have complained, ‘After Picasso, what is there left to do?’

After the Musée Picasso, there is plenty. One is to walk around. The art galleries, cafés and upscale boutiques will make it obvious that the Marais is a fashionable part of town. Unsurprisingly, it is the home of Paris’ gay community but, its long history as a Jewish enclave is what gives it style.

Where else in the world do young professionals in Jean Paul Gaultier share the sidewalks with rabbis and Sephardic Jews from North Africa? In the Marais, you can buy designer furniture across the street from a kosher butcher, or trip out of the gates of an extravagant 17th century mansion and into a skinny passage that leads to a synagogue. If I had to choose a way to find religion, that would do just fine.

Then, after you grab some falafel and hummus, you can wander back to the mainstream Paris of the Rue de Rivoli. The famous Cathedral of Notre Dame is over that way – just don’t get too close.

Then stroll over to the Place Beaubourg and behold the Centre Pompidou, a colourful and imaginative building whose architects, Richard Rogers and Renzo Piano, put the utility pipes on the outside (thereby confirming the theory that the best modern architects show some guts).

The museum’s six million annual visitors don’t just come to stare at the air ducts, though. The Centre Pompidou houses an extensive permanent collection of 20th century French art and pop design, from funky toasters to sleek living room sets straight out of a 1960s science fiction film. The emphasis on architecture, photography and new media distinguishes the Centre Pompidou from older, but similarly grandiose museums like the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay. What’s more, you can almost always count on a provocative temporary exhibition or two.

Like the Eiffel Tower, the Pompidou’s top floor offers a panoramic (and free, if you buy a museum ticket) view of the city. The escalators that worm their way up the outside of the building are encased in glass tubes, making the ascent a bit like being in a chemistry experiment. Every time I’ve tried it, though, the results have been predictably good.

Paris has been special to American writer, Darrell Hartman, ever since the first international flight he ever took unloaded him into the sleek, airy wonder of the Charles de Gaulle Airport. He returned to the US, two weeks later, only to realise that a small piece of his heart had missed the flight. It is still in Paris, having overstayed its visa by about seven years. Hartman’s travel writing has appeared in The Christian Science Monitor and other American publications. He is currently living in New York.