The Eiffel Tower is a piece of Steel

My first time to Paris was three years ago. I was 19 with my mother and sister. Since young age, I had been told by movies, literatures, the touristic brochure etc. that Paris is romantic. Whenever the message of “Paris is romantic” is delivered, for some reason the Eiffel Tower has to appear. I remember looking up at the arch of the tower, the only thing I could think of was my boyfriend at that time. Perhaps the image of us wandering along the Seine with the Eiffel Tower and a full moon as the backdrop was on my “bucket list” for some time.

Three years later, I was back. I came back to see the Eiffel Tower. Stepping out from the metro station, I instantly realised that I was just a girl among the many people who wanted to see the Eiffel. But what made me extraordinary was the fact that I was the only one who was going to see it alone. As the tower became more vivid and closer to me, I saw more couples making out, hugging or smiling at each other. Were these what I wanted see? I had a strong evil impulse to push those loving couples leaning against the bridge to the Seine.

The tall black hawkers who sell those “made in China” souvenirs were still standing with the tower. They were very keen on greeting me with “ni hao” as they did three years ago. I ignored them and looked up at the arch of the tower the same way I did three years ago. To my surprise, no faces came into my mind, not even a pretty imaginary male face. The architecture that used to be the gateway to my romantic imagination, excitement and hope has regressed. It has regressed to a piece of steel. The young beautiful boys who used to be the source of my happiness have grown. They have grown faceless in my memories. The naive yet faithful me is gone.

“Where am I now?” I found the Eiffel tower had fallen out of my sight as I talked to myself. I found a bench facing the tower. I sat down and took out a pen from my pocket and started writing on the back of a receipt which I got from a cafe.

“Perhaps the idea of romance and the meaning of it to me has changed. It has changed to something that I can no longer capture. Not making sense of something is terrifying, especially something that once has meant so much to you. The past must be interpreted. But everyone is so in love in the here and now. They’re so lost in the now. Who cares about those old memories? But how are they going to interpret the now in the future when they realised that the Eiffel tower is actually a piece of steel? ”