PARIS, France

The Parc de la Turlure is next to Sacré-Coeur Basilica.

Photo:
Ed Alcock
for The New York Times

EARLY on a recent morning, I went walking around the 18th Arrondissement with François Jousse, City Hall’s main lighting engineer (and a self-appointed expert on Paris), to explore more of the city’s little-known gardens, ones I had never come across in the six years I have lived in Paris. There, as in other parts of the city, squares and parks were built in a wave of democratization in the 19th century.

Mr. Jousse showed me the Square Carpeaux, where working-class families bring their kids and where table tennis is played on permanent tables. A white statue of a woman whose arm was broken off looks over the space; a pergola sits in the center of the square.

“I love this place for what it represents: an old, authentic Paris neighborhood meeting place,” Mr. Jousse said. “I call it the anti-Luxembourg.”

We stopped by the Parc de la Turlure, a series of discreet spaces that form a sort of garden-apartment — a living room of grass, a corridor with a tilleul (linden) arcade, a “bedroom” that seems to belong to oiled women in bikinis and another for boules-playing. Abutting the Sacré-Coeur Basilica, the park has a small amphitheater that faces a wall of rushing water.

From there, we headed to the wilderness of the Jardin Sauvage St.-Vincent, a 16,000-square-foot space that since 1985 has been designated by the city as a “wild” garden, where insecticides and artificial watering are banned, and some of the most unexpected vegetation in Paris — artemisias, white nettles, wild blackberries — can be found. Unfortunately, it is open only six hours on Saturdays from April through October. Sometimes not even then. It was closed that day.