Ali-Sun and I have walked, perhaps for miles. Along the Seine, through the Invalides neighborhoods, past cafés, brasseries, bistros, boulangeries, tabacs, tapis and patisseries.
The long rectangular park appears, the cold steel Eiffel Tower dominating the skyline to the northwest as the sun dips lower in the horizon.
The young Parisians form their groups on the lawn, for that is what they do. Bodies rest on blankets, heads rest on laps, knees rest on knees. Within the circle lies wine and juice and baguettes and cheese and cherry tomatoes and a slice of paté. They smoke, talk and lounge.
We walk to and then under the tower. It is magnificent in scale. It’s beams angled and curved ever skyward, light streaming through the created space. Until now, I have always seen the Eiffel Tower and thought, yeah, well, there it is. Underneath, looking upward, I can’t take in enough of this inspired monument. I take photos, hoping to reveal an angle, a portrait, a moment of Eiffel that captures its essence.
You did it justice, Bud!
Miss you guys tons….
Your travel tales are so delicious — and the image of the two of you walking miles and miles, without the distraction of children, unencumbered by diaper bags and strollers, still young with strong legs, two earthlings traveling the planet, absorbing the sights….is absolutely wonderful!