The Awful Tower and La Toilette de Terror

Ok, so I know I've always had issues with heights, but this was the Eiffel Tower. I thought that surely I could suck it up and enjoy the views. The trouble started when Loni and I headed for the lift. I started to feel a little giddy, but brushed it off as the excitement of being at such a beautiful place. As we entered the lift, 'giddy' disappeared to be replaced by overwhelming fear as the lift took me possibly higher than I'd ever been (aside from a plane, which doesn't bother me). For those of you familiar with 'The Simpsons' episode where Marge actually gets on a plane, that's what was going through my head at the time. I'm embarrassed to say that upon emerging from Level 1, I found a metal girder several metres from the edge of the viewing platform and almost left fingernail marks in it - as the photo may demonstrate.

The previous night I had become acquainted with the Paris public toilet system, which consists of free toilets on the footpaths - all resembling a kind of 'Tardis' (think Dr Who). As Amanda and I had been searching for such a facility for quite some time, the need was growing urgent. We had read that a 'cleaning cycle' begins after each patron has completed the task at hand. We waited for the toilet to become available and when it did, in my haste, I entered prematurely. The door closed behind me and the light went out leaving me with only enough vision to see the toilet disappear into the wall. Then I realised that the 'floor cleaning' part of the cycle was about to start, and I covered my head waiting to find myself in the midst of something akin to a carwash. Fortunately, it was only the floor that was cleaned, and the walls and ceiling were left untouched. The door automatically opened again - which is when I should have entered. Lesson learnt.

I've been here for just over a week and continue to pinch myself. I've also visited Notre Dame, Musee d'Orsay and had a wonderful night time cruise on the Seine with Amanda - complete with a petit bottle of Champers. The French don't do anything by halves...

Jenais