The First Time I Saw the Eiffel Tower in Paris

As long as I live, there are a few things I will never forget. I will never forget the day I met my husband or the day my children looked into my eyes and knew who I was. I will always remember my parents 50th Anniversary party. No one will forget the day the World Trade Center went down. The first time my husband left for war was the worst. And I will never forget the first time I saw Paris. Never.

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The First Time I Saw Paris

My first trip to Paris lasted less than 24 hours. But it cemented a few things that I will always remember. I loved crème brûlée, the fantastic architecture, and the French language. I fell in love with the quirky vibes of its quirky neighborhoods. And to this day, it’s the only European city I’ve visited more than half a dozen times. It’s probably the only city I’ll visit a half dozen more times.

Crossing the English Channel

The bullet train is a high-speed train that traverses the English Channel, connecting The United Kingdom to its nearest neighbor, France, on the European Continent. I was looking forward to seeing the scenery crossing the English Channel. But at 186 mph, it’s difficult to see anything but a blur. It was pre-dawn, and the only memory I have, besides the insides of my eyelids, were the large graffiti-ridden transformers under a grey sky. Shortly afterward, I succumbed to the gentle rocking of the train. And the soothing heartbeat-like hum beneath my seat was comforting. Only to be intermittently awakened by the loud overhead announcements in both French and English.

The Bullet Train

The train left London’s St. Pancras International Station at 5:40 a.m. I first noticed no seatbelts, and the train attendant checked my passport and customs form. I had a 2nd class ticket that the attendant placed above my seat. So I would not be disturbed at the border. I cradled my backpack between my legs instead of the open overhead or the large storage compartment by the doors.

We were pulling into the Gare du Nord in Paris an hour later. However, the graffiti was in French, and the sky was blue and not grey. The plan for my first trip to Paris was to tour the city’s highlights: visit Saint Chapelle, stroll along the Seine, and eat something delicious, returning to London on the last train at 11:13 pm that evening. I would see the Arch de Triomphe, Montmartre, the Latin Quarter, Notre Dame, the Champs Elysee, and end at the Eiffel Tower.

The French People

You’ll notice that I didn’t say I fell in love with the French people— they’re alright once you get past the service industry—waiters, store, and hotel clerks can be a little interesting. They love their city. And though it was my first trip to Paris, I was probably the sixth person that day who asked for directions to the Eiffel Tower. Just look up; you can see it anywhere in the city.

 

Oxford College Study Abroad 

I was a college senior studying abroad at Oxford University. During a routine visit to the college chapel, I was floored by the vivid colors and imagery in the beautiful medieval stained glass windows. The large rose window that hung just below the ornately scalloped ceilings was spectacular.

In a moment of rare clarity, I focused my thesis on medieval stained glass windows. Because as a history and political science major, I needed more relevance for the 21st century lol. Who knew that a chance meeting with another fellow student and a simple oversight like forgetting to set my watch back an hour would culminate in an adventure I’d never forget and a souvenir I still wear to this day?

Getting Around Paris

The metro station is a 2-minute walk out the doors and to the left of the train station. I love the Metro. It’s a convenient and inexpensive mode of transportation with stops at all the major tourist destinations. Could you follow the signs? With only a day in Paris, I booked one of the numerous hop-on-on hop-off, double-decker bus tours around the city.

The train screeched to an ear-shattering halt at the Charles de Gaulle – Étoile stop. There is an entirely separate ecosystem below the streets of Paris. I could hear the faint sounds of a guitar playing somewhere in the distance. The amplified sounds found no rest, floating from tunnel to tunnel. Lively and often good, entertainment reverberates off the subway tiles every day. If you stop, tossing a coin into the upturned hat or open violin case is customary.

The Paris Metro

Restaurants, clothing stores, and shoe-shine stalls lined the wide corridors. Vendors sold fruit, gum, and newspapers, and the yellow and black vests of the maintenance staff stood in stark contrast against the shiny metal, tile, and glass surfaces they cleaned. Combo tickets offer a valuable incentive to travel through the well-kept, well-marked tunnels. However, Parisian life is best experienced on the pretty boulevards, sidewalk cafes, and public squares and parks above ground. I followed the “sortie” signs and emerged from the cavernous underground station via steps and escalators too numerous to count.

First Trip to Paris

And there it was. The Arch de Triomphe in all its glory, surrounded by a multi-lane cluster fuck of cars and buses. I was just about to step off the curb when I was tapped from behind and directed to the underground walkway that leads under, past all the manic traffic.

The view from the top is all-encompassing. All 12 streets intersect at the Arch, forming a star at its base. La Tour Eiffel looms over everything in the distance. The white stone façade of Sacre Coeur sits majestically atop Montmartre, and you can see all of the way down the Champs Elysees to the Place de la Concorde, the gateway to the Tuileries Garden and the famous Louvre Museum. And beyond that, you can see the skyscrapers surrounding the sculptural open cube La Grande Arch that anchors the business district of Paris. In hindsight, the view from atop the Arch is the best orientation to the city of light.

Les Cars Rouge

Back on street level, I walked to the lineup of buses parked along the Champ Elysees for my city tour. With nine stops, Les Cars Rouges (now called Big Bus Paris) offered the best deal for the money and a 10% discount when purchased online. I found a seat on the upper level towards the back of the bus, ready for the 2-hour trip.

After plugging in my disposable headphones, I selected English from the nine available languages and took my camera from my backpack, ready to capture it all. A few moments later, Daniele, a pretty French major from Italy in town for the day, sat down in the seat next to me.

The People You Meet

I gathered from her hefty backpack that she was traveling on a budget. She had deep blue eyes and jet-black hair that fell in a wispy curl below her shoulders. And not unlike most Europeans, she wore a gorgeous bright red scarf that formed a neat Windsor-like knot just beneath her chin. Her English was excellent, probably from years of school-based training and conversations with random American tourists. She used contractions, which isn’t typical among non-native English speakers. I couldn’t help but smile when she said my braids were tight. She hurled her backpack into the empty seat in front of us.
We clicked immediately.

Hop on, Hop off

We decided to hang out for the day to take each other’s pictures, avoid eating alone, and practice our French, Italian, and English together. She raised a closed palm for the first of many fist bumps we’d share that day. Yeah, I wasn’t the first black girl she’d met. With limited time, we decided to hop off at three stops: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and Notre Dame, and take the Metro to Montmartre for a picnic lunch on the steps beneath Sacre Coeur. Everything else would have to wait until a later date. After two turns around the Arch, we headed down the Champs Elysees towards the busy Place de la Concorde.

Learning Italian in France

We learned much about each other as we rode by the Petit Palais and the Trocadero. Daniele was in her last year at University in Bologna. After briefly studying Mandarin, she decided to study French and English but needed to work on it. We both loved art and history. Il mio nome è Stacey e mi piace viaggiare is just some of the Italian I learned riding around the streets of Paris that day.

Skipping the Louvre

We stood up to take pictures of the Eiffel Tower in the distance before exiting the bus and heading off to the Louvre. We walked through the tree-lined Tuileries garden, under the Carousel Arch, right up to the proverbial front door of the Louvre.

The line to get into the Louvre was ridiculously long. We realized there was no way to do the Louvre any natural justice, so we nixed the idea of going in. I took a few pictures of the I.M. Pei Pyramid that disguises the museum entrance, knowing that I’d be back to tour the treasures buried beneath its glass walls one day soon.

Paris is Walkable

Walking in Paris is one of the great pleasures of visiting the City of Light. The best map you can get for Paris is called “Paris Pratique par Arrondissement,” which you can buy for about €3-5 at any newsstand. Crossing the entire city in a few hours is possible, and that’s precisely what we decided to do for the rest of the day. We ditched the bus and walked across the Pont des Arts to the Musee d’Orsay on the left bank of the Seine.

Paris Neighborhoods

That last painting we saw reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything since the train. Paris is excellent— but the authentic Parisian experience is in your interactions with the locals in the colorful neighborhoods. Montmartre is wonderful. It was the first time I realized that Paris has little neighborhoods that exude more of a bohemian village feel than the big city. The stone pavers were warped and grooved from the wear of carriages and then automobiles.

The sidewalks were wide and winding, where trees were not disturbed but paved around, providing much-needed shade during the summer months. Statues of people I’ve never heard of filled little-hidden niches. Beautiful stone houses sat in landscaped courtyards behind ironworks. And then ‘beep,” the little yellow and white tourist train brought me back to the 21st century. I looked up and saw the white stone dome of Sacre Coeur. We dove into the deep bins of scarves on the Rue de Blah Blah, yeah, I can’t remember.

Cheap Eats

We grabbed some cheese, bread, deli, and fruit and headed in that direction. Neither of us wanted to venture past the basilica doors. We weren’t alone. It was our first trip to Paris– hopefully, we’ll return. She unstrapped the buckles of her gigantic backpack that ran across her chest and waist, holding the padded strap over one shoulder. We found a spot big enough for the three of us on the extraordinary stone steps, laughing while we gobbled down our portable feast.

She took out her sketch pad, and I took in the city’s panorama in front of us while we listened to the musician who had set up his electric guitar on the landing. He sang the 1988 classic Bobby McFerrin tune, Don’t Worry, Be Happy. That song has magical powers; we fought humming it all day with little success.

Ile de la Cite

We took the Metro back to Notre Dame on the Ile de la Cite, a small island between the Right and Left banks. It is also point zero, where all distances in Paris are measured. The cathedral’s three massive rose windows are stunning. Daniele was graciously patient as I studied each one, making notes and taking pictures for my thesis. On the way out, she lit a candle for her mother, who had died three years prior. The candlelight flickering in her hand danced across her beautiful face. And for a brief time, I saw the sadness in her eyes. She looked up at me, staring at her, and her face brightened up again. She didn’t say a word. We walked around the grounds in silence.

Saint Chapelle

My tutor suggested I visit the tiny 13th-century chapel, Saint Chapelle, a few blocks away. Daniele said she wanted to sketch for awhile. So we decided to meet 90 minutes later at Bertillon’s, an ice cream shop known to have the best cones in the city.

A picture is worth a thousand words. This adage may explain why many people have referred to stained glass windows as the “poor man’s bible.” Saint Chapelle is a perfect example of the interplay of light and symbolism, a beautiful form of artistic expression used to describe the Spirit itself. The transparent mosaics are a larger-than-life representation of the Bible, effectively portraying biblical history and church dogma. Rubies, emeralds, and sapphires enveloped me as I climbed the narrow spiral staircase into the chapel.

Stain Glass Windows

I couldn’t help but imagine how the graphic representations conveyed the complex biblical concepts to the illiterate medieval man. In addition, glass-making held a sort of mysticism over the general public and was considered akin to alchemy and magic. Medieval church-goers didn’t just look at stained glass windows; they experienced them.

And the magic exists to this day. Stain glass windows still evoke wonder whether you look at or through them. I closed my notebook and sat at one of the long wooden benches that lined the jewel-box-like chapel; watching the sunlight bounce off the deep blues, reds, and greens in the large rose window gave me lots of pleasure. I’ve been back to that tiny jewel box of a chapel next door to the Palais du Justice every time I’m in Paris– a dozen times over the years by myself and my kids.

Bertillon’s

Daniele was standing in line when I arrived at Bertillon’s. After tasting 3 or 4 flavors, we both settled on pistachio. We walked across the Pont de l’Archeveche (Archbishop’s Bridge). The bridge links the 4th Arrondissement, at the lie de la Cite, to the 5th Arrondissement, St. Germain des Pres. Unfortunately, neither one of them had a lock to attach to the bridge, so we spent a few minutes looking at the ones already there. We walked for hours.

City of Lights

It was getting late, so we returned to the most iconic monument in Paris— the Eiffel Tower. Soon it would light up the night sky and provide a lighted beacon for us to follow. We followed the Seine, watching the significant Bateaux Moches ferry tourists from one end of the city to another, their flashbulbs flickering in the dusk sky. We never lost sight of the towering monument. It’s so tall, and the city is so flat.

A Bottle of Wine on the Champs du Mars

We reached the Champs du Mars, the park under the Eiffel Tower, just after 9 pm. Sitting on the cut lawn was a fitting end to a more than awesome day. But when Daniele heaved that large bag on the ground and reached in and grabbed a couple of wine bottles, I was ecstatic. She handed me one and we drank directly from the bottles under the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. We sang Don’t worry, be happy until it was gone, and I had to leave to make the 11:13 pm train. She sprang up from her prone position atop her backpack. Is that 11:13 p.m. Paris or London time? She inquired.

I Missed the Train

OMG!! I forgot there was a time difference; I missed the last train to London. Oh well, we sat there for a few more minutes. I missed the last train, so we decided to go get dinner instead.

Dinner lasted until the wee hours of the morning. I crashed at the foot of Daniele’s bed. Yet another hostel, too tired to think about sleeping in a hostel. I said I would never do that again, but here I was, happy to have a soft place to lay my head.

Back to London

The first train back to London left at 7:13 in the morning. I sat on the 4th train that left Gare du Nord at 9:13 that morning. Just a little hungover and very tired. But extremely satisfied with my first trip to Paris, with a beautiful “new to me” bright red scarf tied in a loose Windsor just below my chin. And the knowledge that I would be back again one day soon.

After that first trip to Paris, I had no idea I would begin blogging. Or that my computer would crash and I’d lose almost every picture I had taken that day. I did not know that I would live 4 hours from Paris and return to the city many more times in the future. But I will never, ever forget the first time I saw Paris.

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