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Eiffel Tower
As lovers need to FALL in love
They're often drawn to landmarks, tall,
Once up above, they pour their dreams
On lowly mortals, one and all.
Now, there's a perfect pinnacle
That rises high, beside the Seine
Where lovers who have scaled the heights
Return, with joy, time and again.
Locked hand in hand, they make the climb
E'er searching for the highest ledge
From whence to cast their tender hearts-
A sacrifice to seal their pledge.
This beacon has become a shrine,
A place where those who still believe
Can rise for ever heavenward-
Where hearts are lost but never leave.
The architect could not have known
His vision would withstand such time
Transcend its, merely, metal form
Achieve the essence of sublime.
~Written by Mary Ann Love
One of the best places to be in Paris at sunset is at the top of the Arc de Triumph. From here you can get an amazing view of the Eiffel Tower and all of Paris!
After discovering that the Eiffel Tower turned off at night (GRRRR!!), we spent the night huddled beneath, waiting for the light of day. I have some indelible memories underneath the darkened (GRRRR!!) tower:
* The two squads of machine-gun-toting guards, who randomly walked the grounds.
* The bicyclists who solicited donations and later argued stupidly with the guards.
* The cheesesteak vendor in the Ryder Truck, cooking sandwiches all night to club goers heading home.
* The strange dancers next to the cheesesteaks, who were impossibly flexible and gave those waiting for their sammies something to watch.
* The freezing cold and the wind that seemed to work into my bone marrow.
* The port-o-lets which our ladies pronounced filthy, while I didn't think it so very bad.
* Leaning against a ticket booth for hours as shelter from the wind.
* Hearing burglar alarms going off as it approached morning, and having the office security guard politely inform us that we were the ones setting it off.
* Lovers sitting beneath the tower, somehow impervious to the cold and wind, lost in each other.
* And mostly, the drums. Always the sound of multiple deep bongos, and sometimes singing. What were they there for? How long would they play?
These are my memories, along with the constant look at the watch and the knowledge thanks to the GPS of when the sun would come up. When it did, I put my camera onto the manhole cover signaling the center of the tower, and fired the longest exposure I could without a bulb.
And, wordlessly, we left the Eiffel Tower for the train to take us back to St. Michel and thus back to the airport. All of us were ready to quit Paris and go home.