Night fell sometime after 10 PM, . The lights on the Eiffel
Tower had been switched on. Standing on the Pont de Bir Hakeim (or the
“Inception” bridge), I had made a feeble attempt at balancing my big camera on
a small tripod. After mixed results, I decided head to the Palais de Chaillot.
My hunch paid off. It was a completely different scene there. The lights from
the tower across the Seine cast a brilliant glow on the fountains of the
dimly-lit Trocadero Gardens. An ocean of people throbbed. Someone turned on the
music, and the Esplanade turned into a dance floor. Couples broke away from the
crowd and started waltzing. Young men were begging single ladies for a dance
with them.
Paris is a romantic city.
It had been an incredibly hot day. The Eiffel tower loomed up
at the bright blue sky. Around it, innumerable young black men were trying
their best to attract customers with miniature Eiffel models (some of them
brightly lit), and selfie sticks. An exasperatingly long queue snaked at the
base of the tower. Deducing that this was for the elevator to the top, I
decided to take the shorter queue up the stairs. Not many climbers – certainly
not the Indian honeymoon couple up front.
After buying tickets, they asked:
“which way?”
The guy at the counter pointed ahead.
The husband: “That’s the stairs. Where’s the elevator?”
“That way”, said the counter guy pointing at the snaking
queue.
“We already have the ticket. We can’t just go in?”
“No. You stand in the queue”.
The wife wasn't amused. They kept mumbling.
The average Chinese tourist has the best camera that money
can buy – mostly the high end Canons. As a single traveller, you might think
“Ah! Here is a guy who understands DSLRs. He can click my photo”. Far
from the truth, the purpose of that camera is to point and click.
They wouldn't even know how to focus the camera. And just when you have
composed your shot, ready to click the photo, you find one of them
waltzing into the frame, animatedly asking you to move. Turn back, and you will
see their fellow traveller with a huge camera gesturing at you in exasperation
for blocking their shot! Today, they were in abundance on the second level of the
Eiffel.
I stood there for a long time, taking in the view from the
top (and to catch my breath after the climb). A delightfully high-pitched
squeal rang out. I turned back. There he was, kneeling before his girlfriend
with a little box in hand.
Paris is a romantic city.
Heading down the stairs, I spotted the honeymoon
couple coming up the stairs. They weren't looking happy.
The way down was better, except for the embarrassment of the
American lady who asked me whether I was from Nat Geo.
A few blocks away, the golden dome of Les Invalides could be
spotted. I walked towards it. A huge crowd had gathered to witness some traffic
safety drill. Before I could go in my leg muscles gave away, tightening up like
rocks. I sat down in front of the huge dome, unable to walk further –
invalidated before the Les Invalides.
It was incredibly hot. There were ice cream and water
vendors everywhere. But the tourists were more inclined to dip their scorched
hands and feet into the huge ornate fountains (into which Andrea throws her
phone in the movie) at the Place de la Concorde. Ahead in the distance looms the Arc De
Triomphe, at the end of the Champs Elysees. French and Spanish flags adorned
either side of the avenue. Innumerable expensive cafes dot its streets, not to
mention the fashion houses. An Adonis guards the gates of Abercrombie &
Fitch – every girl wants a photo with him. A few blocks ahead stands the huge store of
Louis Vuitton – only for window shopping.
A massive French flag hangs from the Arc de Triomphe. The
walls are dotted with the names of the various campaigns of the French. A small
memorial burns at the centre. It seemed like a rich man’s India Gate. A tiny
door on the side leads to the steps. “No elevator” exclaimed a guy who had just
come out. I've had enough of stairs for the day.
Finally at 5 PM, my shoulders were relieved of my baggage at
my host, Ravi’s apartment (delightful guy and a well-kept apartment). With the
camera hanging around my neck, I headed to the Palais Chaillot and the
Trocadero gardens. I loitered around the
fountains, pitying the elderly guy who stepped into a waterhole on the floor,
thankful that it didn't happen to me. A few minutes later, I slipped and
twisted my leg – momentarily invalidated.
I set up camp on the Pont Bir Hakeim to click the lights of
the tower. A Chinese couple had already moved in for the shots. But we weren't
the only ones there. A couple was preparing for their wedding photo shoot.
Paris is a romantic city
No comments:
Post a Comment