Eiffel Tower
You know, you can see this thing from just about everywhere in Paris. All you have to do is stand on you tippy toes.
This is my attempt at giving Kathy a big old hat. Pretty lame, huh.
At night, this thing is really impressive. I took about 20 pictures of the damn thing and this is the only one that came out at all decent. I guess it's one of those things that you have to see for yourself. Anyway, they light the hell out of it and then, every hour, they have a bunch of sparkling light go off. Again, I tried to capture the spirit with the camera and I failed miserably. Some people work for Playboy and some people work for Hustler.
By the way. Let me impart some advice. If there is a short line that doesn't cost so much to go up into the Eiffel Tower, don't take it. It is cheap and short for a reason. I found out that that line (the one we took) is for the stairs. We are talking, like 800 stairs. And that is just to the middle levels (where this pic was taken). After reflecting on the matter, I think that after the expense of going all the way out to another continent, don't scrimp a little on the elevator. Just another pearl of wisdom from Bob.
This is us again. I'm not sure if we are: A; just proving that we are really there. B; Showing off Kathy's great complexion or C; showing off my receding hair line. Whatever the case, that gold dome behind us is Napoleon's grave. We visited it but came away without any decent pics and only one real question.
It seems that when Napoleon was buried, someone had cut off his penis. This was told to us in English. Not much else in the whole city was pointed out in English. But this was.
