What is so important about the Eiffel Tower? (video included)

When we were at the summit of the Tower yesterday, being enthralled by our guide Eric's steady stream of stories about Paris, its history, its quirks, he had made us promise to do one thing. To go to the Trocadero at night to see the Tower's light show. From sunset until 1 a.m., every hour on the hour, for the first five minutes of that hour, the Tower not only beams its searchlights but it also glimmers. Yes, glimmers. Twinkles. In different colors. And Eric maintained that the best place to see it from was from the Trocadero Plaza.

So, despite having traipsed around Versailles for miles, despite being pretty darned tired, going to the Trocadero at 7 p.m. was on our to-do list. A must see. We may never be in Paris again. Or at least not like this. I would certainly not recommend seeing Paris in a wheelchair, a state that may well be in the not-too-distant future for me. Too many steps and too many elevators that suddenly go out of service.

In fact, in our quaint hotel, you would barely be able to get into the elevator in a wheelchair. And you would very probably have to go it alone. It's not one of those elevators like in the movie Charade. You know, like a cage that rattles upward/downward while the murderer dashes up (or down) the staircase that winds around it. No, this elevator is enclosed but very, very tiny. A three person elevator, one person if you have luggage. But it works. And that is huge in a city where things often do not work. 

Enough of that meander though, back to our plan of going to the Trocadero. We left Versailles around 4:00 pm. Which gave us three hours to fill until Trocadero time. Laurie was on a mission. She wanted to find Porter and his friend football/soccer t-shirts. Eric, our guide, had emailed suggestions for where to buy them, one of which was Galeries Lafayette, near the Opera. I had fond memories of the Galeries, having been there in April. I told Laurie and Mercy that it was amazing. Like the Eaton Center in Toronto on steroids. A reference that Laurie understood but Mercy, having not really experienced much of the wonders of huge malls, didn't. And fairly easy to get to by train/Metro. It's Tuesday, we have two more days in Paris, both of which are already packed with things to do. If it's to be the Galeries Lafayette it has to be today.

I do have to take a slight detour and talk about the Metro though. Also not wheelchair friendly. And for the directionally challenged, something to be approached with trepidation. Those of you who know me know that I have no sense of direction. None. I have described this in a previous blog post when I lived in Ireland. My daughter has a good sense of direction though and she is great at using Google maps offline. And, granddaughter Mercy also has a sense of direction so between Mercy and Laurie, with me obediently trotting behind, we have only got totally turned around once in the Metro. And luckily we noticed it before we got on the wrong train. 

The Metro lines are color coded and alphabetized. But the Metro stations all have lots of tunnels and woe betide if you go down the wrong tunnel because all of a sudden, that color or that letter of the alphabet that you needed, that you thought you were following, is simply not there. You want Green D? You thought you were in the right tunnel. Haha, Green D has suddenly disappeared and the only sign is for Red C. 

And, frustratingly, you can accidentally exit the station too. So that all of a sudden you have to go back through the turnstile. But your ticket doesn't work because the Metro people don't want people handing tickets across the barriers to others to use. So, you can't use the same ticket at the same station before a certain amount of time has passed. I don't know how long, because it only happened to us once and we ended up having to buy more tickets because we needed to travel there and then. Thankfully they aren't expensive. But, be warned, if you see a turnstile that seems to lead to another train, don't go through it. I mean it.

Back to Galeries Lafayette. Les girls discovered that, yes, Galeries Lafayette are wondrous. Elegant. Exciting. Mercy had wanted to get a few clothes and she found what she wanted in Mango. Laurie found the football shirts at a Paris St Germain store on the third floor. We found inexpensive and excellent iPhone cables and battery chargers at another store. We drooled over all of the seductive macarons, chocolates and biscuits. Sadly, the rooftop cafe had stopped selling food but we were still able to sit and catch our breaths. We could have done a LOT more shopping but it was getting late. And there was still the Trocadero to do before we could go out for dinner. So, goggling one last time at the beautiful ceiling of the Galeries

we hopped back on the Metro and landed at the Trocadero Metro at 7:35. Despite the fine mist, we sat on the steps of the Trocadero, watching the street vendors trying to sell the ubiquitous light-up replicas of the Eiffel Tower and umbrellas. We waved them off over and over. The police even came over and the vendors made a pretence of folding up their blankets but as soon as the police were gone, back they came. And then, at 8:00, the twinkling began:

A still photo:

So, what is so important about the Eiffel Tower? It's magnificent. It's visible from almost everywhere in Paris. You turn around and voila there it is. Hitler couldn't conquer it. The Resistance cut the cables to its elevators before he came and he refused to walk up to the summit. All through the war, the elevators somehow didn't work. But, legend has it, two days after Liberation, the elevators were working. New York has the Statue of Liberty and it, too, is magnificent. But, here in Paris, although we are staying close to the Arc de Triomphe, which is also magnificent, the Eiffel is it.

After watching the twinkling, we headed over two blocks to Le Wilson restaurant for a sit-down, Parisian style, meal (as opposed to our Burger King dinner from last night.) Delicious. Roast chicken and mashed potatoes for Laurie and myself and Spaghetti Carbonara for Mercy. Relaxed, warm, surrounded by Parisians enjoying their food, a special time. Afterward we headed back to the hotel.

And, oh yes! True to his promise the hotelier, Benoit, had had the cot fixed so that it no longer sagged in the middle. With the French windows open to the soft air, faint city noises drifting up from the street below, we slept the sleep of the enchanted.