Parisian Paradise

A cool breeze ruffled the leaves by the pathway leading to the Eiffel Tower. Shoes clacked on the cobblestones of the road, excited chatter of first-time visitors buzzing through the air. No matter how long I stayed or how many times I visited, the thrill of seeing the grand monument as if for the first time never failed to rush through me. Standing back, I took in the place that I would see for the last time in a long while to come. I had not left yet, but my heart still yearned to return.

The smell of freshly baked baguettes wafted through the busy street, coffee-scented the air from nearby cafes. The fragrance of about a hundred different perfumes stung at my nose, these smells surrounding me concurrently and individually, a memory that was sure to be remembered forever. There was a chill in the air that evening, gently nipping at exposed skin, dusting many faces with a crimson blush. A sea of scattered people in hats and scarves walked towards the tall structure, smiling as they caught another’s eye. Friendly conversations took place between absolute strangers forming new bonds. The atmosphere of cheer and the buzz of wondrous anticipation was electrifying. 

The street seemed to come alive in the presence of so many people waiting to see the beautiful edifice that the trees guarded. As the sunset in the distance, everyone stood with bated breath. Fairy lights lining cafe windows gently flickered on, mingling with the fading light of the setting sun, casting an orange glow over the eager faces of the tourists. And then, everyone’s breath hitched and resounding applause rang out. The Eiffel Tower stood in all its majestic glory, lit up by blinding lights. Gradually everyone made their way to the base of the tower, crowding together, fighting to reach the top first. 

The bird’s eye view was spectacular, overlooking the entire city of Paris. Blinking lights dotted the skyline like the stars in a clear night sky. The Sienne river gently gurgled past, the small ships cruising with the current. The people walking the streets were nothing more than minuscule points in the distance. The champagne bubbling in the transparent glass fizzed on my tongue, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue triumphantly as it successfully provided a little warmth so high in the sky. 

It felt distantly familiar, a feeling thought to have been lost to time. I hated to leave it yet I knew I would come back home. The air grew colder, there was a smell of snow in the air. Winter was coming, and everyone knew that Paris was breath-taking coated in pure white snowflakes. Every snowflake was unique and in that moment, standing there, overlooking the town that I fell in love with all those years ago, I realised that just like those tiny flecks of ice, I was unique and one of a kind. Every person was, in their own way. And for the first time, I understood what it meant to be a part of something yet not lose myself in the process. My mother was right. It is a Parisian Paradise and it is home.