The headline is a little misleading. Paris doesn’t have ugly walks. I had to turn to the near suburbs to find scenery that reflected my worry that the world is ending, democracy is dying and the pandemic will never be over.

I’ve walked through funky neighborhoods, ethnic neighborhoods, outdoor neighborhoods, street-art neighborhoods and edge neighborhoods. What I was looking for this time was a dead neighborhood.

The most soul-crushing place I could think of was La Défense, an office district just west of Paris that houses an ever-increasing collection of skyscrapers and other glass-and-steel buildings. It’s the largest business district in Europe, where 180,000 workers (except during lockdown) swarm across concrete plazas from the Métro and the RER commuter train and are sucked into hundreds of revolving doors.

My plan was to walk from there to Nanterre, along the same axis to the west. I had never actually been to Nanterre or met anyone who lived there but I knew it had a lot of universities and offices and courthouses: In the newspapers I often read about criminals being tried at the tribunal de Nanterre.

It was, of course, a gray, chilly day. I took the No. 1 line of the Métro to the first of La Défense’s two stops and immediately got lost. Everywhere I turned was glass and steel. Fortunately, there were a few signposts.

Almost as quickly, I began to see signs of greenery and outdoor art.

It didn’t take long for me to find the walkway heading to the Grande Arche de la Défense, which is sort of modeled on the Arc de Triomphe, on the same axis but in Paris proper. (Note to self: Learn the difference between Arc and Arche.) Along the way there was, of course, a shopping mall.

and more examples of outdoor art, albeit rather strange ones.

By the time I got to the Grande Arche itself I realized I was enjoying what I saw. If culture expresses itself through architecture, then we shouldn’t just be looking at grilled balconies, cream-colored stone and mansard roofs to appreciate Paris.

And even when what I saw wasn’t beautiful, it was nice to see an effort to make the best of every scene.

This proposition was tested as I headed west from the Grande Arche.

The bridge, which was apparently supposed to be a bike path, was closed.

And Nanterre proved that attempts at green spaces work less well when the herbage is scraggly (even by the standards of late winter and despite the fact that Aimé Césaire, to whom the plaque in the photo below pays homage, was one of the founders of the Négritude movement in France).

I have to say I was relieved when the commuter-rail station hoved into view. A weak hot chocolate at a grimy nearby café and I was headed home. My spirits lifted at the familiar sight. Paris is good for reminding us that maybe the world won’t end.