Good Thing You're Old

So we're stuffed from our late lunch and decided to go see the Arc de Triomphe. It was one of the first sights I'd ever seen when I came to Paris in 1995 on business, so it meant a lot to bring my mother there. Seasoned metro riders that we are, it wasn't a problem to get there. Following our walking tour guide that my aunt gave Rosemarie for Christmas, we arrived at the ticket booth.

Imagine our surprise to read the sign: Attention, There Are 269 steps to the top of the monument. There is no lift."

"What do you think? Can you make it?" I asked my mom disguising the fact that I didn't think all my time at the gym could prepare me for that walk.

"I'll go slow, let's give it a try."

So, off we went and as I gave our tickets to the entry guard, I pointed at Rosemarie and gave it a shot.

"Are you sure there's no lift?"

The ticket woman smiled. "Oh yes, I will call ahead. Go down the passageway to the left."

I pinched Rosemarie, and laughed. "Thank God, you're old."

And in less than 2 minutes. We were at the top of the monument with the most spectacular views of all of Paris. The city stretched out before us and as the sun was setting, it reflected off the many sights below. The traffic on the Champs-Elysees resembled matchbox cars and we watched as the sea of headlights stretched out below us.

After walking around for a 360 view of the city, we got back in the lift and headed back to the Marais. As luck would have it, we once again choose the wrong sortie and wound up in the complete opposite end of where we needed to go. Trust me, one wrong exit and the Metro puts you a zillion miles from where you want to go. We figured it out though and headed back to the quarter for a stop at an Italian gialato shop. The creamy dessert puts any attempt at imitation in America to shame.

Tomorrow, I think we'll take a taxi to Paris Nord, where we will pick up our train to Belgium. I've had my fill of the wrong Metro exits for a few days.

paris high night 3