Journey to the Top!

I finally made it to the top of the Eiffel Tower! I was a four-hour ordeal from which my legs still hurt, but it was totally worth it. Kaylin and I had the afternoon off yesterday (Wednesday), so we decided to head over to the Eiffel Tower and go to the top.

We took the metro from St. Placide (line four) to Gare Montparnasse, where we hopped on line six heading toward Etoile. About twenty to thirty minutes later, we were sitting on the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower taking goofy pictures and relaxing in the sun amongst all the picnickers, tourists, musicians, sunbathers, photographers, and artists. It was the perfect temperature; slightly warm with a cool breeze. It was bright and sunny with a few puffy, white clouds floating leisurely by, unaware of the excitement going on below them.

The lines to get on the elevators to the top of this magnificent monument were already long, and evergrowing, so we made our way to the platform under the tower to where the lines were. It was already packed with people standing in line. We had three choices: the line that was packed out past the street, the line that curved almost all the way around the base, and the line that was packed way out in the gardens. They were all outrageously long, but there was one that was a wee-bit shorter than the other ones, so we jumped in that one. There was a group of about forty British high school girls in front of us, so they kept us entertained for the duration of the wait (I guess). There was a lot going on while we were in line. There were soldiers circling the base of the Eiffel Tower carry HUGE, scary guns, there were policemen in rollerblades (no joke), and there were Parisian teenagers doing tecktonik dancing (kind of like moon-walking, but with your whole body, and you do it to techo-music... really cool to watch but I would look stupid doing it). You could buy a hot dog for "only" five Euros, or an ice cream cone for about the same, or you could take a carriage ride. There was so much going on that it was difficult to be bored in that line.

While waiting in line, I had my first encounter with a gypsy. Thankfully, Rick Steves had warned me about gypsies and their scams to try to get money from you. I saw her coming from a few feet up the line. It was obvious that she was a gypsy. She had long brown hair, a really out-of-date dress that looked like someone had either made it by hand or it had been passed down through the family for a few centuries. Then she gave the biggest indication of being a gypsy: she was asking for money. She came and stood in front of Kaylin and me with a piece of paper that said:

"I am from Bosnia. I have been in Paris for two months. My brother has leukemia. I need money. Can you please help me?"

The second indication that something was strange, aside from her being a gypsy, was that the note was written in English. We are in Paris, France, where French is the official language. That told me right away that she was targeting tourists. Her story was sad, but it was just that: a story. This was almost verbatim one of the scams Rick Steves talked about.

I shook my head and moved past her, but she followed me.

"Please," she said, in near perfect English. "Give me some change, please. Please, I need your help."

I kept walking, and as I knew she would, she gave up more easily than a truly desperate person would, and she kept walking down the line, harrassing more people. And I started checking my purse and my pockets. I felt really bad, but every instinct, every cell in my body told me not to trust her, and I am big on trusting my instincts and intuition. If she spoke english, then why did she have to write her story down on a piece of paper, as though she didn't speak english? Anyway, I am glad that Rick Steves had warned me about scams like this. Besides, if her brother really did have leukemia, then France is the right place to be, because it is illegal for a doctor to turn away a patient because they don't have insurance or a way to pay. Which is moot anyway, because France has universal health care. But even is she weren't from France or an European Union country, then she still would not be turned away.

Then, as we were standing in line, a bunch of military jets and helicopters started flying by, landing somewhere nearby. They were really loud and it went on for close to five minutes. I was wondering if I should be worried, then I decided that I would get concerned until the guys with the huge guns look concerned.

After over an hour and a half of waiting in line, we finally reached what we thought were the elevators to the top. Except all of the signs we were seeing said "stairs only." Which would have been good to know an hour and a half ago. So we asked and surely enough, we had just stood for an hour and a half in the wrong line. After all that, we had to walk 328 steps up to the first platform. We walked up these brown steel steps all the way to the first platform, and that was actually the scariest part. And it wasn't because of the height (although it didn't help), but because it was really windy and there were people running up and down the stairs, and both of those factors combined made the entire thing shake. So here I am, walking way higher than my brain is used to dealing with, the stairs are shaking like the entire thing is about to just blow over, and the wind feels like its going to carry me away. I was not in a good place, mentally. But I kept chanting "I'm a big, brave dog," like Chuckie, from the Rugrats used to say (yes, I still say that sometimes when I am scared, but it really helps), and I looked straight ahead of me, rather than down, and I just made my legs keep going. Eventually we made it to the first platform. For all of you Cincinnatians reading, the first platform of the real Eiffel Tower is as high as the very top of the King's Island Eiffel Tower. So I've seen the world from this height before, but instead of looking at Mason, and Loveland, and Kings Mills when I looked out, I was looking at the lovely suburbs of Paris with its old streets, quaint neighborhoods and centuries old homes crammed together.

We spent a little bit of time on the first platform, pointing out landmarks and finding where we live (we could see the neighborhood where we live from the Eiffel Tower). We looked around in the over-priced gift shop, then made our way to the steps that would take us to the second platform. We found the stairwell and climbed the 340 steps to the second platform. So now we're twice as high as the Eiffel Tower at Kings Island. There was a better view up there than at the bottom, but we were eager to get to the top, so we bought our tickets and found the elevator - along with the long line behind it. We stood in line for 30 - 34 minutes for the elevator before it was finally our turn.

That was the most crowded elevator I've ever been in, but I was one of the first people to get on, so I was pressed up against the see-through glass wall of the elevator. It was cool, but it was scary, too. I got to watch the elevator's ascent into the sky with my face firmly pressed against the glass. And that elevator moved. It was one of the fastest elevators that I've been on. Or maybe it just seemed that way because I could actually see our progress up the tower. And there were these handy little windows in the ceiling of the elevator, so that everytime I thought that we surely must be getting there, I could look up and see that we still had a lot more distance left to cover than I was comfortable with.

When we finally reached the top of the Tower, it was all worth it. The views of the city were absolutely breath-taking - I would have expected nothing less, but it was so amazing that it blew away my expectations. If you are going to Paris and want to have a breath-taking experience, go to the Eiffel Tower, wait in line (its worth it, I promise), and go all the way to the top. You will never forget it.