Fighting for Views, Finding the Real Paris

Eiffel Tower on a beautiful sunny ☀️ day

We rolled downstairs to the hotel breakfast and were greeted by a lovely spread—fresh fruit, eggs, bread (and more bread), cappuccinos, and a lively group of Iraqi generals. Yes, really. The hotel is full of international travelers, and this crew made their presence known.

What a scene—what a sound! These guys didn’t need a group chat to overshare. Just be within half a mile and you’ll know everything… assuming you speak Arabic. They looked like a a character of what an Iraqi general would look like. Image dark hair, bush mustache and desert camo with stars. It was a little awkward because they were sitting right next to the buffet. Oh excuse me I know you hate women to be bossy and I’m clearly American, so sorry about that messing up your country thing but you are in the way of me to get a Chocolate croissant so I’m going to need you to move. 

We arrived in Paris yesterday on an overnight flight. Miraculously, both Chad and I managed to get some sleep, so we landed with a few functional hours in our pockets. We dropped our bags at the hotel and headed straight to the Eiffel Tower.

Now, I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower before, but I’d never been up in it. My friend Robert was shocked—shocked!—that we hadn’t gone to the top. So, in the spirit of “Why not?” we added it to the itinerary at the last minute. And honestly? Perfect decision to do once. 

We got in line, passed through the first round of security, and found ourselves inside the fenced perimeter. The last time I was here, you could stroll around freely under the tower. Not anymore—now it’s all barricades and security checks. Times change.

It was obvious we’d hit the off-season sweet spot: no massive crowds, and the roped-off queue areas were mostly empty. Still, it managed to feel a little claustrophobic.

You can climb the stairs up to the second level if you’re feeling sporty, but from there, it’s elevators only to the top. As we shuffled through the corral toward the lift, I noticed the worn-down floors—slick and shiny like ski tracks from a hundred years of shuffling feet.

We had to use a tour group to get tickets since the official site was sold out. Our guide wasn’t exactly a fountain of knowledge, but he did have a winning smile. Fortunately, the guide behind us was full of great info, so I casually drifted into her orbit and listened in.

I’ll spare you the Wikipedia rundown, but a few fun facts stood out: the Eiffel Tower was originally painted red (which I would love to see), and it was built for the 1889 World’s Fair as a temporary installation. Spoiler alert: it’s still here.

Once you make it to the top, prepare to battle the selfie takers. I’m not even sure most of them saw the view except through their phones. For the love—put the phone down! It really is a beautiful view: Paris, home to about 2 million people in the city proper and another 12 million in the suburbs. Since no building is allowed to be taller than the Eiffel Tower, it’s one of the best ways to get a sweeping aerial view of the city.

Once down on the ground we started to feel the crash from the overnight flight but we were almost two miles from our hotel. Walking back? Not appealing. We headed toward the street, thinking we’d flag down a taxi, when we spotted a Metro station sign. Both of us had the same thought—why not?

At 5 p.m. on a Monday, we figured out how to ride the Paris Metro. Well, to be honest, Chad figured out how to ride the Metro. I was just happily along for the ride. And honestly? It was exhilarating.

First impressions: the stations aren’t glamorous. They’re functional, bright, and not remotely dingy. (Not saying they’re clean, but I wouldn’t be afraid to sit on one of the few seats.) I did notice some clever safety features—barricades that open only when the train arrives, so nobody can jump or accidentally fall onto the tracks. Trash cans are just clear plastic bags hung in frames, so you can see exactly what’s inside. Most of the stations are simple: white subway tiles, clean lines, no frills.

What amazed me most was how absolutely no one made eye contact. We were packed inches apart, yet everyone was deeply committed to the invisible wall rule. No glances. No nods. Nothing. Very Parisian. 

I guess the thought of the day is this: go do the tourist thing. There’s a reason it’s popular. The Eiffel Tower really is breathtaking, even if you have to dodge elbows and three generations of influencers to see it. But if you want to understand a place—really feel the pulse of its people—take the subway home.

Because nothing says “welcome to Paris” like being jostled in silence by 200 strangers pretending you don’t exist. It’s oddly comforting. Like a group hug where no one makes eye contact.