I know it is a tourist site. I know that it is completely overrun with vendors selling silly, badly made little statues of the tower, lines that snake for hours of people wanting to see Paris from the different platforms and gypsy children trying to scam English speakers out of money with an index card detailing the sob story of a father from Argentina who goes off to Bosnia to fight in the war and never returns, stranding his luckless family in Paris.* It was a twenty minute walk from my hotel (when I did not get lost) to a prime people watching spot.
After fetching my luggage from the front desk, I change into clean clothing**, grab the camera and hit the street. Since I am only a mile away from the Effiel Tower, I decide to take a walk. On the way I see a champagne cork on the ground and I am stopped for the first of multiple times during the week to give directions, since I seem to appear to know where I am going.
Hundreds of people who have chosen to picnic in the park in the heat of the evening. Tourists play guitars, vendors sell small metal statues of the tower and a volleyball tournament is taking place.
Later in the week I will return to have a picnic dinner and see a newly married couple posing for photograhs, dogs playing, jugglers juggling.
During the time I was taking photographs of the wedding couple I look up into the sky and noticed it was getting grim. The type of grim that a girl from Western Pennsylvania knows is a cue to run for cover. The people surrounding me seemed unconscious to the rapidly changing weather.
As I crossed underneath the Eiffel Tower, the wind began to blow. At first it felt like a cooling breeze. I looked across the road and noticed clouds of sand lifted by the steadily rising wind. I start to walk back up the street to the hotel. The wind becomes stronger, the sky begins to rumble. The sand stings my eyes and ends up in my mouth.
It begins to pour. I take a wrong turn and become lost in the rain and the darkness. I return to the hotel soaking wet (and wearing a white shirt, naturally) and strangely happy.
* True story from my last trip to Paris. Before I could point out the inconsistencies in the story on the card J reached into his pocket and gave the girls five euros in coins.
** I will never again underestimate the value of clean underwear.
What a great time that was. I don't think I would let rain stop me. I actually like to play in the rain. So, wandering around Paris in the rain would be fun. And, getting lost is part of the fun too. Great pics.
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