Oh but this is P-A-R-I-S!
Whenever I heard from my friends' mouths that sigh of visible elation, I could not resist a reactant
thought - it must be exaggeration. My sister who studied in France was the first one to say that. As a natural result of my rebellious mind, for a destination of my visit to France I have deliberately chosen Amiens that is not far away from Paris Beauvais (From now on is my love to cathedrals true and eternal. If you have never heard of that cathedral... well, believe me, Notre-Dame is just as impressive). What was much more important to me at that moment - I have NOT chosen Paris.
My conviction about Paris was undisturbed and stubborn. Wherever crowds of tourists build their own communities of mass touristic consumption, there is no place for magic, not to mention for a soul of the urban space. And without those, the city misses all its sex appeal.
Nonetheless, the life is an ironic creature, because I did visit Paris, although I avoided it for so long. During my trip to Sarajevo in September 2014 (read more here) I have met not only one, but three impressive Parisians, who kept repeating after my sister the very same sentence:
Oh but this is P-A-R-I-S!
The verdict on me and my stubborn avoidance of Paris was given - all three loved the city. Did I have any other choice than to visit? So I did already on October 2014, under only one condition: I will do sketch - but please - I have promised myself - avoid kitsch, for God's sake - avoid the Eiffel Tower!
The sketch above proves my sins. Obviously I was far from avoiding the forbidden fruit.
Do I have any other explanation than a cheerful greeting of my friend: Welcome in Paris - I have to show you this! You will love it - Look! This is THE Tower! Isn't this view not beautiful?
A joyful child- I thought.
In that very moment I gave up.
Hence, I was shown THE Tower from each side. From down, from far, from close. I was shown it even during a deep dark night, when the beautiful illuminations turns it to be some modern Christmas tree on the Parisian horizon. I was even made to observe it from the top of the Sacré-Cœr and from the banks of the river Seine with a bottle of red wine as accompaniment. Each of those occasion was filled with delightful comments...
Was that the wine or the constant flow of euphoria that has been reaching my ears? Even now, I am not sure what has brought me to that, but I have to publicly confess it - I did it. I sketched THE Eiffel Tower. The compromise I made was- at least it is on the foreground!
In my inner quest for saving the magic of that iron creature, embedded so deeply in the Parisians' souls, I found the postcard below. Hopefully, this will save the rest of my dignity.
The photograph was taken from the very same point where I hid myself with a sketchbook (Pont du Alexandre III. - Bridge of Alexander III), however the time is much different - it was in 1900 during the universal exhibition. Back then - Paris had plenty of towers like the one of Gustave Eiffel. Back then - the intellectual debate about aesthetics rose up slowly. If I had lived then, I would have been an active part of it! Maybe then that building would have been deconstructed after the exhibition as well?
I found justification for myself. This is the Tower's charm that even Marcel Proust had to obey (in the end it was his friends who built it!). What else I can then admit than simply accept the fact - the Tower is not a thing to ignore - either you hate it, or love it.
PS. For Proust lovers I leave you reference to his description of it on that site or below - that refers to its important role in the defense of the capital during World War (1916):
In this Paris, whose beauty in 1914 I had seen awaiting almost defenseless the threat of the approaching enemy, there was certainly, as there had been then, the ancient unalterable splendor of a moon cruelly and mysteriously serene, which poured down its useless beauty upon the still untouched buildings of the capital; but as in 1914, and more now than in 1914, there was also something else, there were lights from a different source, intermittent beams which, whether they came from the aeroplanes or from the searchlights of the Eiffel Tower, one knew to be directed by an intelligent will, by a friendly vigilance which gave one the same kind of emotion, inspired the same sort of gratitude and calm that I had felt in Saint-Loup's room at Doncières, in the cell of that military cloister where so many fervent and disciplined hearts were exercising themselves in readiness for the day when, without hesitation, in the midst of their youth, they would consummate their sacrifice.
Time Regained 6: 161-62
[UPDATE -6-01-2014. I have found some precoloured photographs. Enjoy!]
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