It's a balmy evening in Paris and the sun begins to dim in the sky. Twilight suggests we should wander from our small hotel just off Boulevard Haussmann down to the Seine, and watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle into life.
No matter how many times you've seen her in magazines, at the movies or on TV, no matter how much you think you know her, you will always remember that first moment you saw the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
No one tells you about the fine filigreed curved metal that weaves patterns of lightness between the towers brutish main frame. I'm enthralled how something so large could touch the earth so lightly. She is massive but gentle, she thrills and delights.
So we sit on the steps leading down from Pont Alexandre to the waters edge and embrace the night. The river comes alive after dark. It's black surface reflecting golden light, which plays off the wash caused by long coal laden barges and glass topped dinner boats.
At nine o'clock it happens. Around the river's edge, up at Montmartre, wherever people can see her, the magic is revealed and there is an audible sigh. The tower's genteel warm glow bursts into life as thousands of lights pulse and sparkle over her metallic frame creating mayhem and magic, and clutching at the romantic in the very heart of us all.
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