Squealing Around the Arch

Doc and I looked forward to seeing the Arc de Triomphe sometime during our latest trip to France. The chance appeared when we were given a day of sight-seeing in Paris before we started our first week’s assignment during GEM’s Tour de France Outreach.

Visitors reach the Arch on foot through a noisy tunnel under the street.  Excited children’s feet clatter; they throw their voices, enthralled by multi-lingual echoes.  Scolding parents strive to keep their chicks under their wings.  Young people, ignoring the stifling heat, cling as couples and huddle with their friends—their guffaws at inside jokes adding to the ruckus. 

This is my favorite Paris landmark yet.  Wikipedia tells us that the Arch “honours those who fought and died for France in the French Revolutionary and the Napoleonic Wars, with the names of all French victories and generals inscribed on its inner and outer surfaces."

 
I found myself gawking—assuming that rank accounted for the varied font sizes of the engraved names,

 

 

 

 captivated by the sculptures of angelic and mortal warriors.  

 

 

"Beneath its vault lies the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from World War I.”  Even as I write I ponder, with those who paused at the Tomb, the value of a life given for others. 

 

 

 

 

 

Doc has always been curious about the eight-lane roundabout that encircles the Arc de Triomphe. He’d sworn never to drive it, but he watched the vehicular parade with intrigue as the rest of our team surveyed the monument. I noticed an older gentleman, studying people as they studied the magnificent structure, and everything around it. So much to take in.

                                                                                                         

Next stop--Eiffel Tower. I remarked to the group how close it looked from where we stood and that surely we could walk.  Then we spotted a taxi, powered by a man on a bicycle. Tired from the heat and lots of walking, Doc and I decided to enjoy a ride. We asked to be taken to La Tour Eiffel.  To our surprise, our athletic “driver” headed straight into the roundabout!

 “Whoaaa! Whooaaa!” Doc bellowed as I squealed with nervous delight. Traffic in France is very fluid. Not a single horn sounded, though we were making lots of noise.  Our cyclist maneuvered clear into the inside lane, then back outside to take the third exit.  “Whoaaa!  We made it!”  The rest of the ride was pleasant, even breezy.  The Eiffel Tower was more than a half-hour walk, but that’s another story.  Suffice it to say, our friends didn’t complain.  And we’ll never forget giggling and screaming like kids on a carnival ride as we were pulled, in a bike buggy, round the Arch.