the Eiffel Tower: a sleeping seductress in the city of lights.

sleep is scarce in our seventh floor flat; the moon is bright and hazy and full, beaming through the skylights and windows of our airy living space. the Iron Lady sparkles on the horizon, glittering the ceiling in her seductive ways. sirens abound in this part of Paris, the tell tale alarms sing in my dreams, igniting memories of the high energy films often seen from my seat on the plane.


with little rest, we are up way too early. even so, tourists tend to congregate everywhere, from the moment we walk out the door we are covered in trinket shoppes and harassed by foreigners with rings of tiny Eiffel Towers, 5 for 10€. in obligatory tourist fashion, and after various complaints from sommkid regarding her tired legs, we opted to see Paris by bus, the hop-on hop-off providing a much needed break from the long blocks of the city.


the wind is cool and wet. gray clouds hover above us, threatening a dreary day full of umbrellas and hot chocolates and patisserie stops with macarons. as we pass the Arc de Triomphe, sommkid breaks out her camera and begins to snap away. all told so far, there are more than 100 photos from this trip alone, and it’s only the second day in. (I wonder where she gets it!) again, the city beckons me with her decadence.


we disembark at the Trocadero, and cross the busy roundabout into the gaggle of sightseers snapping and facebooking and instagramming their moments in time, the Iron Lady placidly sleeping in the background. again we find ourselves giving in to the selfie annoyance and retrieve our phones.  of course there is always time to find beauty in the foreground.


fresh gingerades and nutella banana crepes await us at the carousels. since it is technically winter, the fountains are silent and the statues dusty without their daily showers. sommkid eagerly rushes toward the painted ponies and pays for her 2€ ride.


later in the day, at the time printed on our Eiffel tickets, the sommelier sleeps off the jet lag and rillette and fromage from the previous day. sommkid and I once again brave the weather and forge our way back to the Iron Lady for our close up. after surviving two security details, we rode our way to the second platform, watching as a century of iron whisked past our gaping eyes.


arriving in what felt like seconds, we walked out to the terrace to breathe in the spectacular views of the city of lights.


we explored the high map of the city, and while we discovered, we took in all that was Paris, the enchantress of all things we love.


and then we hit the wall. hard. sommkid barely made her way to back to the bus, where she immediately fell asleep in my lap while I discreetly eyed the ornate, gold-rimmed city.


that night, awake with sugar and cream and a little caffeine, she awoke with silliness and playful giggles. we feasted on sweetbreads and steak frites and blood-center veal. sommkid further developed her nose for les vins, even sipping a small drop of sparkling to wet her palette. we talked through the night about our favorite things, serenading each other in lyrical fashion. and then there was this:


be still my heart…. bonne nuit, y’all!

Paris: arising in the city of lights

petit birds chirp rapidly in the 5th arrondissement, the full moon fading from nigh as the dawn begins to break over the historic rooftops. the streets outside are quiet, lacking the bustle of midday tourists, the only sounds of sweet fowl lyrics and the occasional shopkeep arriving for the day.


our apartment sits high above the street across the isle from Norte Dame. in a few hours her bells will clang loudly across the cityscape, as to wake the people from their sinful slumbers and decadent dreams. pigeons will flock to her square, pecking at the cobbled ground, spying on pesky toddlers for tossed crackers and bits of bread.


it’s been several years since I walked the streets of Paris, felt entrapped by her concrete beauty, intoxicated by her golden inlays and glistening crowns. not much has changed, sans the small military gangs patrolling France’s most harbored treasures. rightfully so, yet a painful reminder of the cost of security in the wake of increased globalization. nonetheless, the city of lights still glitters with fervor and adulation.


the air is cool and crisp and fresh with energy. when sommkid arrived, her excitement was pinpointed, focused on the Iron Lady of the horizon, the glittery facade imprinted in the mind of an impressionable girl.


yet we walked the banks of the River Seine, admired the hosts of rebound books dusty with years of dedication to the written word. we culled over crepes layered with nutella and bananas and seeping with gooey deliciousness and all that is Paris. we rode carousels. then we walked some more.


and when all was said and done, when the stain glass windows were viewed in opulence, the museums perused, the cheese half eaten, and the rillette devoured… we drank wine and admired the view from our apartment window. tomorrow is another day, one in which these two ladies might just meet.


sante, y’all!