River, tower (Paris)

The Seine is large enough in places to create a sense of vastness, small enough elsewhere to feel familiar.



It’s oxbow curve huddles neighborhoods, defines arrondissements and makes jewels out of Isle de la Cite and Isle de Saint Louis. The smaller of the 30 or so bridges spanning the Seine encourage strolling. Some of them blend so seamlessly with little streets that you could cross the river without realizing it.





Tree-lined and cobblestoned promenades bordering the river encourage strolling too, along with idling, reflection, romancing (and fashion shoots).







Waterside, bollards dot the promenades, anchoring boats and barges that double as residences ranging from posh to vagabond. Many of the decks are covered in gardens, some producing noteworthy amounts of food. I tried prizing open the doors and windows of these vessel-abodes with my eyes to see who these river dwellers were, but couldn’t get a read on them.

I crossed the Seine by way of an unbelievably gaudy bridge and headed towards Eiffel.

At over 1,000 feet Eiffel is visible from a distance and can be approached without a map. But approaching it, streets often bend away and don’t come back. A game of cat and mouse ensues and the tension builds. These views of the tower peeking over rooftops and down alleys are far superior to the designed view one gets from the end of the Parc du Champs de Mars.

In the peekaboo views it appears like so many Parisian things; elegant and well considered. Like Brooklyn’s pre-Ratner/Bloomberg relationship with Mrs. Brooklyn, it seems like Paris has enough respect for Eiffel to keep all nearby structures well below it. The practical side of that arrangement is that locals don’t have to answer the where’s Eiffel question a million times daily. At or under Eiffel, it looms large. It seems less delicate and more hulking, but the up-close mass impresses as much as the far off elegance does.

Babel-like, the number of languages one hears gets more numerous the closer one gets to the tower. On line to buy tickets for the ascent, it’s a veritable schmorgasborg of romance and Germanic tongues. Ticket lines for the elevators were sizable, but tickets to the stairs were easily had. The stairs (which sadly do not continue to the highest platform) zig-zag asymmetrically up the parabolic slope of the tower. The ascent showcases the guts of the towers laced over increasingly stellar views of the city. Even stopping at the second platform, I was fully satisfied with the expansive view.