Blame it on Jim Morrison She believed she could... and she did!

It was Jim Morrison's grave and the sunset that caused all the trouble. We would have caught the last bus if I hadn't insisted on waiting to get that perfect shot. The sun setting over Paris, it's muted haze turning the Seine into river of molten gold was a photographer's dream but it was Jim's grave that made us late getting to the Eiffel Tower in the first place. By then the line for the elevator was too long so we climbed the stairs of the elegant Iron Lady. The view from the top was worth the effort.
We arrived earlier that day with only 10 hours to see Paris. After breathing in the beauty of Notre Dame Cathedral for too long, we climbed aboard a tourist bus and did some whirlwind sightseeing. We spent the morning exploring and having promised ourselves the obligatory champagne in Paris, we stopped for lunch and then went in search of Jim Morrison's resting place at Père Lachaise Cemetery.
With our limited French, and by that I mean practically nonexistent, we misunderstood maps and directions and ended up at Montmartre Cemetery instead. The upside to this meant we accidentally stumbled across Moulin Rouge, however it meant we were miles from the Eiffel Tower so we hurriedly caught a cab there, arriving late afternoon.
After our breathtaking climb, we ran to the bus stop, only to find that the last bus had left five minutes earlier. We had no more Euro on us so asked a cab driver if he accepted cards. He didn't and we were stuck. We had to get back to San Michael for a train to the airport and we had no idea how we were going to do that.
From out of the fading light, an angel stepped forward offering his services in a mixture of broken English, Pakistani and French. He assured us that he could get us through Paris on time with his bike taxi. With much trepidation we climbed into the back of the rickshaw and off he rode, pedalling as fast as his legs would take him, through the streets of Paris as darkness descended and the city lit up.
As he rode, he proved to be an amusing, if slightly breathless, guide. We meandered through the back streets of Paris, the breeze fresh in our faces, as the city started to sparkle even brighter against the darkness of the night. What we thought was going to be a disaster proved to be a highlight of our trip. It was a really delightful way of saying goodbye to Paris.
Next time I will know that one day is not enough time there but it was enough to fall deeply and irrevocably in love with the city of love.