The pleasures of Paris.

• Author: Rothenberg, Sheila

WE GAZED SKYWARD from the base of one of its mighty legs. The view was both imposing and dizzying. Rising majestically above us, latticework beams reflecting the golden rays of the sun on a magnificent spring day, the Eiffel Tower seemed official confirmation that we indeed were in Paris. This world-famous symbol of the City of Light is perhaps the most recognizable single landmark on the globe, but all the pictures had failed to prepare us for its physical reality.

The sheer numbers are breathtaking. Soaring 1,051 feet into the air and weighing more than 10,000 tons, the Tower is like a giant's Erector Set, with some 18,000 pieces of iron bolted together with 2,500,000 rivets. Yet, the over-all feeling--especially at a distance--is one of airy gracefulness, an elongated capital A poking a hole in the sky.

Ascending Gustave Eiffel's centerpiece of the 1889 Universal Exposition in a glass-sided elevator (letting younger legs contend with the 1,652-step climb that is its alternative), we were struck by two vastly contrasting sensations--awe and vertigo. Watching the city spread out below us the higher we rose was thrilling. At the same time, however, our stomachs were doing acrobatics since the open-sided construction of the monument conveyed a feeling that we were dangling in open space with just a flimsy superstructure between us and disaster. This, of course, is far from the truth. Despite its seeming fragility, the Tower is rock solid, with the maximum sway in the highest winds not exceeding four and one-half inches. (In contrast, the height can vary by as much as six inches, depending on the weather, contracting in cold and expanding in heat.)

It is from the third floor, approximately 900 feet off the ground, that the panorama of Paris is most spectacular, the rooftops of the city and its suburbs laid out in all directions like a giant aerial map. Viewing tables provide actual maps that allow visitors to put names to the scenery, thus getting a perspective on the vista. Under ideal conditions, when the atmosphere is perfectly clear, one supposedly can see 42 miles, but even the most chauvinistic Parisians admit such days are rare.

Starting a visit to Paris with the Eiffel Tower may seem a cliche, but there is such a feeling of familiarity with the city--men among those who never have been there before--it is hard to avoid cliches. With the possible exception of New York, there is no other metropolis that--thanks to movies, books, and songs--is so instantly recognizable. All our lives, it seems, we have heard of the Left Bank, Notre Daine, Montmartre, the Louvre, Pigalle, the Latin Quarter, Champs-Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, and Folies Bergere. Thus, one of the prime pleasures of Paris is matching the face to the name.

In planning our tour of Europe via the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, we knew we would be beginning in Venice and ending in London. Logically, a stopover in Paris would be the ideal midpoint of our journey, but we had to overcome a long-standing antipathy engendered by years of reading and hearing from others that, while their dollars are welcome in France, American tourists are treated with disdain, if not outright hostility. Well, we decided, the world's a big place, and we needn't go where were not wanted. Accordingly, we have spent many years traveling without stepping foot on French soil. Nevertheless, bypassing Paris on this trip made no sense, so we began to examine the possibilities.

Because of the Orient-Express' twice-a-week schedule, we could debark in Paris for one and a half days or remain for a week. Since the former clearly was insufficient to do the city justice, we reluctantly opted for the week-long stay. Friends and colleagues, hearing us express our misgivings, were amazed. Who possibly could be put off at having to spend seven days in Paris?, they asked. Were we crazy?

We might as well come right out and admit we were wrong. Our skepticism turned to delight as we opened ourselves to the experience, did all the touristy things, and wandered around in search of the unexpected. Contrary to our expectations, we were extended many courtesies by helpful Parisians as, armed with maps, guidebooks, and what we remembered of our high school French, we explored the city. Not once did we encounter a waiter or salesclerk who was rude or condescending. Best of all, we invariably found their English far superior to our hesitant French, eliminating the communication gap.

By the time our week flew by, we had found that Paris best is seen on foot, observing lovers, children, fashion, art, history, and spectacles, all commingling in an exciting melange that often seems larger than life. Finally, much to our chagrin, we had learned that one week is insufficient to get the real feel of the city and not just dash from highlight to highlight.

We had left the Orient-Express at the Gare de l'Est (East Railroad Station), collected our luggage, and wheeled it to the cab line. Within moments, we were speeding through streets that seemed to have leapt off a picture postcard, with blossoming chestnut trees and outdoor cafes. Cole Porter's "I Love Paris" sprang to mind, but where his lyrics proclaimed, "I love Paris in the springtime, when it drizzles," we were greeted by a superb day, sunny and mild, making the city look as if it had just been washed. (The drizzle showed up later, at times graduating to gusty showers, but did nothing to diminish the city's charms, for the most part considerately confining itself to times we were indoors.)

Our destination was the Pullman Windsor, part of the Pullman/Sofitel International Hotels, chain. In carefully choosing a home base, we had sought a locale that provided a convenient location while avoiding both the overwhelming hustle and bustle of the giant hotels and the inconveniences especially in plumbing) that many of the older small establishments try to pass off as "charm." The Windsor proved ideal, nestled comfortably in a quiet residential section. Yet, less than a five-minute walk would bring us to the Champs-Elysees with a vast selection of restaurants, banks, first-run movie houses, and chic stores. Though we spent most of our days covering the city on foot, we appreciated having the Charles de Gaulle station--one of the key transfer points for the Metro (subway), with many of the major lines intersecting there--readily at hand for after dark or when we were headed for more distant points, as well as easy access to a wide-ranging assortment of bus routes.

One of the Windsor's most welcome features is the availability of non-smoking floors. To Americans who have grown used to being able to avoid secondhand smoke in restaurants and most public facilities, France provided a rude shock, with the largest percentage of adult smokers in Western Europe (42%). Unfortunately for our noses and lungs, we had arrived a few months ahead of the tough new anti-smoking laws that went into effect late in 1992, triggering intramural animosity between tobacco addicts and their foes that at times threatened to spark a second French Revolution. Being able to come back to a hotel room free of lingering aromas of smoke clinging to the furniture and draperies made us eternally grateful to the Pullman group for its consideration.

In booking the Windsor, we tended to dismiss the fact that the hotel provided a complimentary continental breakfast, mentally translating that as the paltry croissant and coffee we had experienced elsewhere in our travels. Much to our delight, we found that the Windsor version is a veritable cornucopia of a buffet, with juices, fresh fruit, cold cereal, toast, yogurt, eggs, ham, sausages, bacon, jam and marmalade, pastries, tea, cocoa, and yes, croissants and coffee. Well fueled, we were ready to set out each morning to partake of the pleasures of Paris.

Like the spokes of a wheel, 12 major boulevards and avenues radiate from a central core--the Arc de Triomphe. A wide traffic circle around the arch and the Place Charles de Gaulle that surrounds it is Paris' version of the running of the bulls at Pamplona, with daring souls pirouetting, darting, and dodging kamikaze cabs, trucks, and other vehicles without a traffic light for protection. For less reckless--and far saner--types, an underground passage allows access to...