A December day, Nearly Christmas. I was traveling with a friend and her seniors group. The weather casters on the news said it was the coldest December in forty years. Two inches of snow had fallen in Marseille! We had done the Riviera wrapped in layers and with newly purchased hats and scarfs and gloves. The night before we had almost frozen our toes off walking in open toed heels back from the Metro to our hotel near La Defense after seeing the ballet at the Opera Garnier. In the morning, everyone else was still snuggled in bed, but I hadn’t had my Tour Eiffel fix. So I walked there by myself. I was surprised to find no one in the ticket line. Even more surprised to find no wait at the elevators and only a patron or two on the ride up. As I slowly circled the top, identifying each Paris landmark below, I suddenly discovered why I was almost alone. The iconic landmark shuddered under my feet and began to perceptibly sway in the winter gale. I reminded myself of all the years it had stood strong while chicken-heartedly beating a path back to the elevators. Sometimes the only thing you really need to bring back from France is a memory.