An American in Paris

Beyond the Business class flight to London, the Eurostar train ride to Paris and navigating a new Metro system in French, the long road to Rue Cler was done. My son, David, and I were checked into the hotel on Rue Cler -- a little 3 block open-air market where many Parisians (and perhaps a few too many tourists in June) call home. As it was around 8:00 PM (20:00) that lovely evening, David and I set out to find the lightning rod of our motivation, Tour de Eiffel. We have all seen the pictures, in the nighttime light, in the day time sun -- unfortunately, on the Las Vegas Strip. The Eiffel Tower is in many ways synonymous with France itself. Gustav Eiffel's monument to man's dominance over the elements was set forth on the world in the last 19th century. No matter how many ways you see it, you have never seen it. Until you are there, with your own eyes in its presence, you have not seen anything. As it was night, the lights were on the tower. Great yellowish lights illuminating the focus of the city of light. I have seen many beautiful things in my life. I have seen the sight of the city from the top of the World Trade Center. I have seen the sight from a 10,000 tall mountain overlooking snow covered peaks. I have seen the first moments of my son's life in the delivery room. None of those could have compared me for what I saw that night. Maybe it was the sheer size of the tower or perhaps, it was the way the light hit it just so. In retrospect, I think it was the overwhelming fact that I, this poor kid from Brooklyn, was standing at the foot of a legend. I was so overwhelmed with emotion; I could not spare the tears. It was in many ways surreal. Was this real, a dream? Maybe it was one more of those simulations we Americans are so fond of doing, as if it could ever come close the seeing the real thing. No matter what the source of the emotion, I was clearly gazing at the most beautiful thing in the world. So tall, even somewhat scary, yet, so light and elegant. Is there any other way to describe traveling to a foreign city. I was ill prepared for the feelings. The fact that I was able to share this with my son made it all the more special. He is 12 years old and he has already seen some amazing things. I know the concept that we want more for our children than we have had. So, in many ways, it was fitting that we saw this together. You see, as I got the chance to see this magnificent homage to the industrial age with my son in hand, means this is always something we share. The world is filled with beauty -- manmade and natural. All you have to do is step back, and look at it. It may take a plane, train or simply a walk across the Potomac, but beauty is there for those that seek it. Viva la France!