It was our last morning in Paris. We were due to fly out in just a few hours—but, like the rest of our week-long sojourn in in the City of Lights, we were making the most of every second. We were standing in line to climb up the Tours-de-Notre-Dame, the famous Notre Dame towers. As it was Sunday, admission to the towers was free, and I was determined to see the famous gargoyles and the view over the entire city.
It was early January, just a few days after the New Year, and it was absolutely freezing. Although we’d tried to get there early, there was already a line—that’s Paris for you. Since we pretty much needed to get to the airport as soon as we finished, we grabbed one last crepe each while we waited, shivering. Here’s a picture of me, my (faux) fur-lined coat obscuring most of my face, just my grin visible as I hold the crepe close to my face.
Paris was a dream, but on the tail end of a two week jaunt around Europe over Christmas, right before going back to my grueling teaching schedule in Prague, it probably wasn’t the best idea. We were exhausted. Add that to the fact that we were totally broke, and well…it wasn’t our most genius travel plan. In addition, Paris at the start of the New Year might be the busiest place…ever. We spent a lot of time waiting in lines.
Still, we’d managed to get as much out of Paris as possible. We were staying in a very tiny flat with unreliable hot water and heat, a pull-out couch the only bed, and a view over a decidedly unpicteresque courtyard. Still, just over the tops of the buildings behind us, we could see the Eiffel Tower. We watched it every hour, as we ate baguettes and cheese in our flat to save money, sparkling through the long and cold nights.
On our last day, we were finially going to do the activity I’d been dying to do the whole week. We’d seen the Notre-Dame, of course—hard to miss—but I was determined to get a view of the gargoyles (fun fact: the gargoyles are actually the drain pipes in the shapes of monsters; the statues everyone thinks are gargoyles are actually called chimeras).
Finally it was our turn, and we climbed the dizzying, slightly claustrophobic stairs, stopping periodically for the crowds and to snap photos from different points of view.
We made it to the top, finally, and there were the chimeras—staring over the City of Light, some thoughtful, some looking monstrous, some looking almost sad. And there, as I picked out a few landmarks I knew, I felt my eyes filling with tears.
Here I was, in Paris. The place of my imagination, the place of so many stories and dreams and so many other imaginations. Paris is chaotic, confusing, gigantic, overwhelming, and in spots dirty, dangerous, overcrowded and overpriced. But from this vantage point, it was mostly beautiful, iconic, and the Paris of my dreams.
I was heartbroken this week, to hear the news about the Notre-Dame. Such an iconic building, of course, but also one of my favorite memories from my few years living in Europe. Technically, it’s just a building, and even one saturated in so much history and age and beauty and culture, it could be so much worse.
Yet, while I’m sad, I’m also so grateful. I got to see it. The loss of such an important piece of human history serves as a stark reminder that nothing lasts forever. Not even you. You only get one chance to see the world, to see everything you want, to get the things you want. I’m here to tell you that the world is changing, your life is changing, and if you have dreams of travel, go for it, to the best of your ability. Waiting has its purpose, but nothing is ever guaranteed a tomorrow. Not even the places we think might be around forever.
