Paris

Adventure. That's what it's all about. So, with that in mind, I hop in the car and head to Ashford International terminal. I'm off to Paris. I could have taken a local train into London and hopped on the Eurostar at Waterloo Station. However, John said that I would be better off driving over to Ashford. I decided to take his advice. It's about a 30-40 minute drive down to Asford. The navigation system will not cooperate with me about finding the station or even the town. Stupid piece of crap. I've got a road map and no fear of getting lost. It was fairly easy to find the place. I drive into the car park and notice it's going to cost me 19 pounds to park the car here for a couple days. Ack! Well, that's not that bad all expenses of this trip considered.

I head into the terminal and wander over to buy a ticket. The kind woman behind the counter is very patient with me and helps me to get on a train to Paris after noon and then on a train coming back tomorrow evening after 8pm. That cost me about 149 pounds. That's not very cheap. But, how many times do you get to go under the Channel? Damn right!

You want to know what it's like going through the chunnel? Get on a local train and close your eyes. There you go. Yup, it's a trip through a long tunnel. Nothing to see until you get out on the other side. The French countryside looks like...countryside. Don't get me wrong, it's nice seeing the green fields and all. The sky is amazing. Much like some of the sky I've seen in England. Low lying, wispy clouds contrasted by higher flying, clouds varying in shades of white to dark grey. All the while the sun behind the clouds peaking through holes in the clouds and around them. hard to describe accurately, but, very beautiful indeed.

The couple of hours goes by pretty quickly and I am deposited in Paris. Wonderful, I think to myself. Now, to find my hotel. It's near the Eiffel Tower. I'll head over to it and then try and pinpoint it's location. Before I leave the terminal I stop into a souvenir shop and pick up a map of Paris. Never hurts to have a map ;). I wander outside and try to get my bearings. I can't even pronounce the street names. I whip out the map and try to find where the hell I am.

I am immediately accosted by a lady who asks me if I speak English. Knowing full well that I will probably not be able to answer whatever question she has for me, I tell her that, yes, I do speak English. She shows me a note with a story of her being new in the country and wants money. Pan Handler. I tell her no and go back to my map. She just doesn't leave me alone. The only English she seems to understand is various words of begging. Through the continuous begging I can't find where I am on the map. But, I nod confidently and refold the map. I will do what I would naturally do in these situations. I pick a direction at random and start walking. The Eiffel Tower should be visible eventually. I ignore three other ladies, dressed alike, who ask me if I speak English as I walk.

I follow a small crowd of people who've left the same station as I have. I figure that they probably know where they are going. Since it's various groups of people, they aren't going to the same hotel. Safety in numbers. I walk along with them. It begins to rain. Of course. After several minutes of wandering from street to street with my companions, I still don't see any sign of a monument. I could ask...who am I kidding? I'll trudge on. I find our collective destination...another train station. Wonderful. Screw this. There's a taxi stand in front of the train station. With the fact that I have no *clue* as to where I am, I don't speak the language and it's raining, I'm having a taxi take me to my destination.

Good thing to. It was a 15-20 minute cab ride. Drove in front of the Louvre, and along the Seine River. I'm *SO* glad I didn't drive here. There are sections of the city that seem to have no lanes. Many times, the cab whipped around other cars and darted in front of them before we ran out of road. If you're not an assertive driver, Paris driving is not for you. There are lanes on the roads that are for buses and, apparently, taxis with passengers. It was an interesting experience to say the least. Confirming the address wasn't too bad. I had it written down. I still tried to pronounce it. But, the number I was clueless on. It's a basic piece of any language; numbers & counting. I realized too late that I can't do either in French. I can say hello, goodbye, please and some other niceties that are good to know in any language. But, I don't know the numbers. So, the cabbie and I went back and forth as he told me how to say 9 in French.

The hotel, l'Hotel Capitol Eiffel, was located on a side street about a mile away from the Eiffel Tower. Not too shabby. Checking in was easy as the gentleman behind the counter spoke near perfect English. I think he took pity on me as I tried to (and probably succeeded in) butcher his language. I went upstairs to my room. It was room 203. Now, you may think that's on the second floor. You'd be wrong. In Europe, there is the ground floor and the floor above that is the first floor. So, room 203 would be 2 floors above the ground...the third floor in American-speak. I opened the door to the room and was presented by the smallest hotel room I've ever been in. My bedroom back home is larger than this. This room is the size of my Kitchen (minus the attached dining area). I wanted to laugh. I went over and opened the curtain to see my view. I got the wonderful view of an alley and a building under construction. Pleasant. No great tragedy. I'm not in Paris to lounge about in my room.

Now that I've checked in I gear up for the touristy thing. I head toward the Eiffel Tower. I'd been told by someone here in the office that I really want to go up to the top at night. The view during the day is wonderful, but, the views of Paris at night can't be beat. It's getting onto four in the afternoon. I figure I'll head over there now and take a peak. It's about a mile away. Not that long of a walk...

The line to get up the tower was significant. No time like the present. I jump in line and begin the wait. The gaggle of German teenage girls in front of me with their broken English eventually catch my attention. They aren't talking to me...directly. They are facing away, giggling and saying English words back and forth to each other trying to find the right words, I believe. Sure enough, they were trying to figure out how to tell me that my zipper was down. Even in a foreign country with various languages, I provide entertainment. When it finally dawns on me what they were trying to say (again, not directly to me), I fixed the situation. That sent them into fits of giggles and normal teenage titterings. Their male adult chaperon just shrugged at me and said "Girls". I'm glad I could provide some sort of entertainment for people in this long line. It takes another 45 minutes to get to the booth to buy a ticket up.

The Eiffel Tower has 3 actual floors. The first floor holds a couple different restaurants and a couple of shops. The second floor holds other stores and two "floors" of viewing pleasure. The third floor also has shops and two "floors" of viewing pleasure. You can buy a ticket up to any of the floors. So, a ticket to the top is good for all three. I buy the top level ticket. Duh!

We all pack into the two story elevator and begin our assent to the first floor of the tower. Nobody opts to get off there. I believe everyone has the same goal in mind...the top. On the second floor, everyone piles out. I find that much of the second floor of the tower is taken up by the line of people trying to get up to the third floor. Great! It takes another 45 minutes to get into the next (smaller) elevator. It's about six in the evening when I finally arrive at the summit. They were right. The views are spectacular. I can see all of Paris. I take some shots of the city and realize that there's no way these will turn out well. I will have to read up on taking pictures of things at night. The shutter stays open far too long and things are a bit blurry. I take pictures knowing that they won't be as clear as they could be.

It then dawns on me that my telephoto lens has vibration stabilization built into it. I won't get as wide of a shot as I would my my normal lens, but, they will be clearer. I reach into my bag and pull out the lens. At that exact point in time somebody bumps into me. Bump isn't strong enough a word. But, it wasn't technically a shove. At any rate, the heavy lens in my hand goes flying. Things move in slow motion as I see my expensive lens slam into the ground. The guy throws me a nonchalant sorry and moves on. Bastard! I wanted to throw the guy over the edge. He could at least feign apology. I pick up the lens and inspect it. The lens cap is jammed onto the filter. I can't get it off. I can hear the shards of glass rattling around inside. I just hope that it was the glass filter that took the brunt of the damage. I'd have no problem replacing a $20 filter instead of the many hundreds of dollars that the lens cost me. I put the lens back into the bag and try to put it out of my mind. No sense worrying about it now. What's done is done.

I wander all over the third floor of the tower admiring the view. It was cold up there. It had stopped raining (mostly), but, the wind was pretty strong. I spend about 20 minutes looking at the view before I decide to head down to the second floor. Crap! There's a line to get *down* too. 15 minutes later, I'm on the second floor. I spend another 20 or so minutes checking out the views on this floor before jamming myself into the elevator for the first floor.

I grab a baguette on the first floor and eat my evening meal with a fine view of the city as company. Life isn't too bad. I head down to the ground level and head out for my hotel.