"Have you seen the Eiffel Tower at night yet?" asked the only other English speaking person who'd joined the Civitatis walking tour in Paris.
"No, I just arrived this morning," I answered.
"It's so beautiful," she said. "You should go take a look tonight."
"I want to." My mind immediately rushed back to the time a chicken foot was thrown at me when I walked down a street in Rome at night. The time my dad was threatened after dusk in London. The time... "But I'd rather not go out after dark by myself."
"Yeah, I get that. Maybe we can go together directly after the tour."
It sounded like a good plan. But first, we had a walking tour to do.

A little over two hours later, we were both in a horrible mood. The tour operator had canceled the English tour and the Spanish tour, which we joined out of desperation, was 80% rapid-fire history facts and only 20% walking to beautiful buildings. On top of that, it was raining. A freezing cold drizzle fell down on us. We were cold, angry, and didn't even wait for the tour to finish at some random point in the Jardin des Tuileries. The sun was setting, so we left for the Eiffel Tower.

I never learned my temporary travel buddy's name. She was from Bulgaria, but lived in Poland. She took pictures with an old-fashioned analog camera. We got along just fine. Before we'd left the Jardin, we were already smiling again. As darkness fell, everything around us became more beautiful. Our plan was to simply walk to the Eiffel Tower. Since the thing literally towers over everything, it wasn't difficult to find our way.


We crossed the Pont de la Concorde and followed the main road along the Seine a while. We were giddy with excitement. It was completely dark already and the lights on the Eiffel Tower were shining brightly. After a while, we took one of the roads that led us away from the riverfront. It looked like it'd be a faster route. This specific part of Paris seemed a bit less touristic. Every now and then we saw the Eiffel Tower peeking through the concrete jungle. Finding our way was as easy as we'd thought it would be and we stuck to well-lit streets with lots of stores and restaurants. We talked endlessly about all the things we wanted to see and do in Paris. People walked by without paying any attention to us. Except for one man. He came from the opposite direction. The Bulgarian girl bumped into me as he pushed his way past her, even though there was enough room for him to pass.

Then life turned into one of those cliche movie scenes, when everything happens all at once. Some metal object clattered onto the sidewalk. I assumed it was something the rain had washed off a roof. The man started screaming English swear words. I had no idea what caused him to freak out like that. Until I looked down. There was a knife on the ground. The man was still screaming.
"Keep walking!" I told the Bulgarian girl, who seemed a bit in shock. "We've got to keep walking!"
I walked away and she quickly followed me.
"He hit me in the knee," she said a few meters down the street.
"What?"
"He hit me in the knee so I'd fall over. With a part that wasn't sharp, I think." She wasn't bleeding. Neither was she badly hurt. Just in a bit of a shock. Just like me. I could not process what had happened. So I walked on.

By the time we'd reached the end of the street, I just wanted to go home. I did not feel safe anymore, but I was also very far away from metro stations. But as we turned the corner, I saw the Eiffel Tower again, this time with dozens of tiny white lights blinking all over it. The light show looked magical and reminded me of why I'd come there that night. It was beautiful. And so we walked on.

About 15 minutes later, we finally arrived at the security checkpoint that we had to pass to get to the tower. It was cold and rainy, I was still half in shock, but still it was awesome. I wanted to go touch the Eiffel Tower, as I've always thought I would be so overwhelmed by it that I wouldn't believe it's real until I touched it. Sadly, the base of the tower is locked away behind fences, to protect them from graffiti and other more serious threats. So instead of touching the thing, I just took a million pictures. We waited for the light show that'd convinced us to keep going to start again. It was worth all the weirdness. We ended the day with a crêpe Nutella under the Eiffel Tower. We saw a man propose. It was the picture perfect Eiffel Tower visit.


Two days later, I found myself scrolling through pictures on my phone. I looked at those I'd taken of the Eiffel Tower, thought about how long it'd taken us to get there... and how the Bulgarian girl had almost gotten stabbed. "What the hell was that?!" I said out loud to my empty dorm room. I don't think I'll ever get an answer to that question. One thing I do know: it's the weirdest Eiffel Tower related story I've heard in my life, and I hope none of you will go through something similar if you decided to go to Paris.