The first time I saw the Eiffel Tower was at dusk. I was seventeen and just arrived in Paris with my best friend, the two of us having taken a coach, then another coach, then the Hovercraft, then another coach, then the Metro, to find ourselves on the Trocadero overlooking the Champs De Mars as night fell.
We were woefully unprepared, really, other than the fact that I spoke fairly good French. We had an address for our hotel but no real idea where it was, other than that it was ‘close to the Eiffel Tower.’ We’d taken the wrong coach from London to Dover because a group of handsome young men had also boarded it, then found that most of the francs we’d brought with us were out of date and no longer legal tender. However, as we walked across the paved area bounded by statues, the Tower ahead of us lit up as though welcoming us to Paris, and the troubles of the day were forgotten. And we instantly fell in love with the city.
This photo is from a more recent trip to Paris. This time the Eurostar took us there from London in less time than it had taken on the coach from Calais, all those years before. It was winter, but the city sparkled, as it always does, with lights. And this time we came upon the Eiffel Tower via a different route, a short road lined with exquisite apartment buildings opening up to a spectacular view. I still remember the gorgeous girl’s look of wonder when she saw the Tower for the first time.
Thank you for coming on another Wednesday Wander with me – see you next time!