Climbing the Eiffel Tower
by Kristine Mietzner
Although we can’t travel now because of the pandemic, we can reminisce about past adventures and one of my most memorable was a trip to London and Paris with my son during his senior year of high school.
In nine months, he’d be off to college and an independent life. I hoped he’d leave home with certain intangibles: a strong sense of self-worth; the ability to make good decisions, defend his ideas, create a sound philosophy of life, take risks, experiment, and have the capacity to love and be loved. I dreamed he’d make a contribution to the world.
At Thanksgiving, I invited Ben to visit London with me the week after Christmas. I fully expected he’d be like many other teenagers and decline the trip in favor of spending time with friends. When he accepted, I gulped at the responsibility. I had suggested London because I’d been there once before and could duplicate the itinerary to avoid anything going wrong. We toured the Tower of London, Windsor Castle, the Globe Theater, the Tate Modern, and enjoyed a West End play.
On the second to last day, I decided to modify the itinerary and risk an unplanned, one-day excursion to Paris on the fast train. It would most likely be our last major trip together, so why not shoot for the moon and experience two of the world’s major cities, instead of one?
When our trip began at the London tube station near our hotel, I dug in my purse for my pass while the train approached. “Mom!” said Ben, “Keep your pass in the same place in the front of your wallet, all the time.” Point taken, I thought, but wait a minute — who’s the parent here?
Aboard the Eurostar, in the dim morning light, we zipped through miles of coal-darkened red brick tenement buildings on the outskirts of London. We zoomed under the English Channel, through the Chunnel, and emerged in Normandy. We passed miles of pastures, some green, others brown and fallow, waiting for spring. French houses dotted the countryside with architectural features like small chateaux in muted shades of ivory, and I delighted in seeing how attentive and interested Ben was.
Just over two hours after the trip began, on an overcast morning, the Eurostar slid quietly into Gare du Nord, Paris’s northern railroad station, delivering us to the City of Light. Ben didn’t say anything, but he was visibly excited.
Ever since my son had started living with his father a few years earlier, I wondered how I could influence him when I didn’t see him every day. My motto became, “If it is to be, it is up to me,” and my strategy was tenacity and constancy. Ben and I had weekly dinners and outings that ranged from indoor rock climbing to miniature golf. I vowed to make the most of our time together and planned a series of vacation trips that took us to the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. and Glacier Bay, Alaska. I wanted to provide him with experiences that might give him more context to make sense of the wonderful world we lived in.
When we stepped off the Eurostar and made our way to the RER train, Ben pointed at the signs for the Paris Nord line to the Eiffel Tower. “This way, Mom,” he said, guiding me by the elbow. A wave of parental pride washed over me when Ben quickly figured out how to navigate the railroad to reach the center of Paris.
We exited the train at the Champ De Mars stop and made our way above ground to the 7th Arrondissement. Ben checked Google maps and led the way to the Eiffel Tower.
Long lines of visitors queued at three of the four legs of the iconic structure, and we headed to the shortest line, at the fourth leg. We discovered the reason for the shorter line — it was where tickets were sold for stairway ascents instead of tickets for one of the tower’s elevators.
“Mom…?” Ben said, eying me to see if I was game. I hesitated for a moment. It would be easy for him but a challenge for me. I took a deep breath and bought tickets to take the stairs to the second level. At some point along the 674 steps Ben stopped and looked back. “Are you okay?” I was very okay, because my son demonstrated the wonderful qualities of care and compassion. I also made a mental note to do more walking when I got back home. Ben dashed ahead, reaching the viewing platform in just over 30 minutes and waiting for me to share and savor the panoramic view of Paris.
Night had fallen when the Eurostar delivered us to London’s St. Pancras train station. We hailed a cab to our hotel in the West End theater district, drank hot tea in the hotel lobby, and then returned to our room and a view of thousands of Londoners gathered in Leicester Square to bring in the new year. Below us, a guard inside the hotel’s locked glass doors kept out everyone except registered guests. With Ben’s safety my number one concern, I was relieved that we were cloistered in our hotel instead of out in the crowd.
I changed into my nightgown in the bathroom and climbed into one of the two queen beds. Satisfied and relieved at successfully managing a day of spontaneous mother-son international travel, I said, “Goodnight, Ben.”
He looked up from his cell phone for a moment. “Goodnight, Mom. Thanks for the trip.”
“Sure,” I replied. Whatever else he would carry with him into the wider world, he had the good sense to express gratitude.
Silently, I ran through the Buddhist mantra I repeated for him daily: May Ben have peace. May Ben have joy. May Ben have freedom. May Ben have love. I glanced across the room at my son snoring softly and experienced the peace and happiness of seeing him sleeping. I drifted off, already treasuring our unhurried week together. We’d given each other the gift of time. Priceless.
Kristine Mietzner is an American writer living in Northern California. Her short play “Reservations, the Cat and Dog Comedy” premiered at the Winters Community Theater’s 10-Minute Play Festival (January 2020).
Photo credit: @Nil Castellví via Upsplash.
