Paris: Eiffel Tower

Clearly I have failed in my mission to post all about my Parisian experience before my Moroccan one. So, despite the fact that I’m dying to talk about Marrakech, I’m going to take a minute to chat about 20 February 2012 (my second full day)—don’t worry, this won’t take too long.

I had 12:00 PM tickets to the top of the Eiffel Tower, which gave me a great deal of free time in the morning. My original plan was to visit Hôtel National des Invalides properly, so that I could also see le tombeau de Napoléon (Napoleon’s tomb). What I didn’t reckon with was the cost, which would have put me a bit more over my budget than I was aiming for. Instead, I merely walked away with a couple of fun photos from the outside…

Since I didn’t make it in to Bonaparte’s tomb, I was left with three hours of ‘down-time,’ which I spent purposefully losing myself in the streets of Paris en route to the Eiffel Tower. And then, finally, there it was—just looming above me.

After failing to find signs of Lois Lane and/or men in white overalls I made my way over. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to go to the very top floor (despite having paid for it), and they instead took us to the next-highest level. 

They did so in this boxy, yellow elevator that moved along ball bearings—at least that’s what it felt and sounded like—and which carried us up the northeastern ‘leg’ of the tower. And, since the elevator’s walls were mostly glass, you could see just how fast and far from the ground you were moving!

Think Lois Lane is under there?

 On that note, let me just say that the Eiffel Tower is a lot higher than one might think. In my case, I always think of those posters you see at other tall sites like the Sears Tower—I’m sorry, ‘Big Willie’—which give you a visual approximation of how much taller each site is in comparison to the others. On such graphics the tower always seems so tiny by comparison. But once you’re on your way up, I can assure you that it doesn’t feel so small.

When we finally reached as high as they would let us go, I hopped out and did a quick walk-around (followed by a second, slower and more studious tour). I managed to snag a photo of from each side, and then one final picture of myself standing over Paris’ touristy heart…and then the camera died. 

Le sigh. 

Looking east(ish).

I tried to jury-rig some battery power using a spare potato and one of the antenna wires running from the top (a.k.a. some AA batteries I bought at the souvenir shop) but no such luck.

 Despite a few hiccups, it was still a very pleasant morning—next up: Père Lachaise Cemetery…