I remember the first time I saw it, looming in the hazy distance over the enchanted city. The group was walking across the bustling city bridge close to the famed Pont Neuf, quickly trying to make our way to the bus stop that would take us back to our hotel. I was parched from the break from Paris’ typical rainy day that ushered in unseasonal heat, and was purchasing a bottled water from a street vendor for 1 euro—a bargain in this astonishingly pricy city.
After struggling to continue walking across the bridge while wrestling to return my money to my purse, I heard my group leader say, “Everyone look to your right.” My head snapped up, worried that I would miss a piece of magic Paris had to offer, and a let out an audible gasp. After twenty years of waiting, it was right there in front of me—Le Tour Eiffel. Well, not exactly right in front of me. But it was there, and it was real, and I felt like it was all mine.
Though it was rather far in the distance, I could still see its majesty. I can understand why the people of Paris fought to keep the tower standing on the edge of the Seine River’s artsy Left Bank after the 1889 World Fair. Those who initially thought the tower was an eyesore began to see its symbolic power—Le Tour Eiffel had become an icon of Paris. Even from a distance, I could see the strength and elegance of the tower, two qualities that summed up Paris beautifully.
Standing there on that bridge, looking at the creation that had beckoned me here to wander the ancient streets of Paris since I was a little girl, I felt a most interesting sensation in the pit of my stomach: Butterflies. Big, fluttery, gut-filling butterflies. They were the kind that you get when you experience the first kiss of a new love, because that’s what this experience was for me. Though I had only been in the city for three days—a seemingly insignificant amount of time when compared to the number of days I’ve spent dreaming of being here—I could already tell that I was falling in love with Paris.
