A Date With Eiffel

By Clair Wenzel

To the rest of the world, the Eiffel tower is the international symbol of Paris. It is visible for all to see during the day, but in a sense the tower is sleeping. Only at night does it come alive. This is the ideal time to experience the Eiffel.

On my first visit to Paris, I traveled with a group of students who were also Paris virgins. I had one thing foremost on my mind--the Eiffel Tower. Our first day was spent briskly walking from museum to museum in a vain attempt to see everything. As I passed the Eiffel, my eyes remained fixed on the giant structure, having only moments to stare until I was forced to catch up with my fast paced group on the way to a museum. However, as delighted as I was to see the Eiffel during the day, I was unaware that later that night, I would literally see the new tower in a different light.

We planned our busy day of sightseeing to conclude with the grand finale, the Eiffel Tower. That evening, we all dressed in our best. The women wore dresses, in spite of their wrinkled appearance, a result of being tucked away in backpacks. The men wore slacks and ties to impress the women they would be accompanying for the evening.

From our hotel, there was no need for a map as the top of the tower was always in sight and served as our guide. After a short walk, we turned a corner and found ourselves face to face with the illuminated tower. My face decided it would smile whether I wanted to or not.

Suddenly, the tower came alive. Thousands of flashing lights made the tower sparkle. Every night, the tower puts on a light show for five minutes at the top of the hour. As we stood and snapped pictures of the flashing tower, it appeared as if thousands of people scattered throughout the tower were taking pictures of us. Hundreds of flashes went off as each second passed by. As quickly as it began, the tower’s performance ended. We wasted no time and moved closer.

We headed under the tower to purchase our tickets. Zigzagging through the empty ticket line, we made our way to the front almost instantly. Because it was nearing the end of the night, we didn’t have to wait. It was 10:28pm and we were the last people who would be allowed up the tower this evening. The tower closes at eleven, but the last elevator to the top departs at 10:30pm. It is open later in the summer.

We were faced with a decision. For four euro, you can tackle the stairs and climb to the first and second levels. On the other hand, the elevator provides easy access to all levels and is the only access to the top. It costs 4.80 euro to go to the first level, 7.80 euro for the second level and 12 euro to take the elevator to the top. Without hesitation, I pulled 12 euro out of my wallet and stepped inside.

As we entered the elevator, I felt my friend Richie grab my hand. “I’m scared of heights,” he admitted. Turning to him, I realized that my excitement had blinded me to his apprehension. By this point Richie was shaking, his palms moist to the touch. I reassured him that everything would be fine.

The operators of the elevator ushered thirty of us in and we crammed together like sardines in a can. Huddled together, we began our ascent. Smoothly and silently the elevator, at an angle, made its way up the leg of the tower.

Shortly after, the elevator slowed and came to a stop. As we exited the elevator, I rushed out and started to make my way to the edge of the tower. I was quickly informed we were only half way to the top. My stomach turned over with excitement as we stood in line for the next elevator.

The second elevator ride, straight up, was longer than the first. After we could go no further, the doors slid open. A strong burst of cool wind swirled into the elevator. Laughing with excitement, my friends and I pressed our arms to our sides to keep our dresses from flying above our heads. Pushing our way out into the gusting winds, we stepped out to the edge of the tower.

Looking down, we saw Paris, dusted with lights. Roads we had been on moments before looked like slender lines of light running across the city. I watched as the searchlight on the tip of the tower scanned the horizon, its beam of light piercing the deep black sky. Just as I was about to snap a picture, the tower came alive once again. This time, we had a front row seat for the spectacular flashing light show. Strobes of light flickered up and down the smooth metal structure. The tower was alive and sparkling.

Each morning as the sun rises over Paris, the tower resumes its slumber, silently resting for its next nightly performance. Because when the sun sinks below the horizon, that’s when the Eiffel Tower comes alive.

Clair Wenzel, a University of Kansas journalism student from Minneapolis, studied in the CIMBA undergraduate program in spring, 2009.