Although I have been in Paris for over four weeks now, it was not until this past Thursday that I (finally!) visited the Eiffel Tower, the most famous and most recognized monument in France, let alone the world.
However, it wasn’t intentional: I happened to “stumble upon” it while I was getting pastries at a pastry shop on the Longchamps. I wasn’t even thinking about finding it, but as I continued down the Longchamps, I turned to the right and saw…the Tower. Figuratively, my mouth dropped. My God. This is happening. At that exact moment, I was ready. My body was ready. As if under some spell, my feet started walking towards the looming monument, crossing the notoriously dangerous round-abouts and sidewalks towards that towering beauty. The sun beat fiercely down the back of my neck and I was perspiring like crazy, but I didn’t give a damn: I was going to the freakin’ Eiffel Tower.
I arrived at the Trocadéro where, at the top of the steps which descended down to the Tower’s main area, I snapped a dozen photos, by itself and with selfies (usually not big on selfies, but how could I not take a selfie with the Eiffel Tower?!), and descended down to les Champs de Mars. Strolled past the Paris Plage (Paris Beach) where children and young adults had stripped down to their bare essentials and splashed in the waters of a large fountain (which doubled as a pool in the summer, I guess). I was tempted to stop and join them, but then again I wasn’t equipped for getting wet- I was fully clothed.
In front of and under the Tower. Scores of tourists lined up on all four sides of the base for a ride up to the top. I didn’t have the time and patience for that, so I by-passed it all.
Took more photos from the other side of the Tower, after going under and past it. People picnicking on the lawns of the fields had an incredible view of the monument. It was amazing.
So there you go. After four weeks of putting it off, I finally made it to the Eiffel Tower.
– The Finicky Cynic