Paris: 5 Years To The Day
Today is Friday, November 13, 2020.
Five years ago on Friday, November 13, 2015 I was in Paris.
I love the "City of Lights" and travel there whenever possible. After a business trip to Nuremberg, Germany, I had the chance to relax in Paris for the weekend. The chilly fall afternoon of 2015 felt familiar as it had in the past, and I couldn't wait to walk the historic neighborhoods. Little did I know that evening I would be in the middle of consequential pandemonium.
I checked in at the trendy Renaissance Paris Vendome Hotel and then made my way to shop at a favorite boutique, KENZO.
With treasure in hand, I left to find a cozy outdoor cafe to sit at and watch Parisians stroll past as I had patisserie and coffee. I thought I was in my happy space. As I sat there, though, I was fidgety and surrounded by a grey cloud for no reason.
These feelings were very unusual for me as I had fun activities with friends planned for the weekend, including a comedy show, "How to become Parisian in one hour", followed by an intimate group dinner later in the evening at Ralph's in the 6th arrondissement.
After the show, dropped off by taxi, we waited in a rustic gated courtyard to be taken inside for dinner. Once seated, I was relaxed until a gentleman near me began excitedly speaking French loudly into his cell. I'm not a fan of chatting on devices in restaurants but took note that people were answering calls one by one, and the chill vibe I walked into earlier was diminishing quickly. My friend's phone chimed; my husband's went off, too. Honestly, I almost glared at him to say, "Don't pick up!" But since only my dinner mates knew where we were, I knew something was wrong. Anxiety was building.
The Maitre d' came into the beautiful room at 10:30 p.m. and announced the restaurant's gates were being closed and locked. We were sequestered in place. Reason: there were active and coordinated terrorist gunmen and suicide bomber attacks throughout Paris. They began at 9:25 p.m., simultaneously assaulting the famous Bataclan concert hall filled with a sold-out audience, the Stade de France, broadcasting a live soccer match on tv, restaurants, and nightlife spots. We were numb and totally in shock.
Once we were allowed to leave, we ran to our friend's apartment, where we watched horrifying live coverage unfold on tv. There was nothing left to the imagination. The streets were utterly bare, minus Police and Gendarmerie National forces.
At 4 a.m. I was finally able to summon an Uber to take us across the Seine, past the Louvre, and over to the hotel. Darkness encapsulated the soundless eeriness. The driver would not accept payment, declaring he was just happy to be of service. Showing proof of being a guest to hotel security, we finally got the lift up to the room, exhausted.
The remainder of the weekend was as glum as you could imagine. We were meeting other friends, Sebastien, himself a Gendarmerie officer, and his young son, Antoine, for Saturday brunch a good walk away from the Paris Vendome Hotel. Over coffee, we chatted openly, being grateful Antoine's English was limited for understanding the events' graveness.
After dining, we took a very long walk in the stillness. The weather was cold, wet, and overcast. Few people wandered the streets with nowhere to go. Shops, restaurants, monuments, and museums were closed. Parks were empty except for heavily armed police. I wanted to see something familiar, the Eiffel Tower.
As we got closer, I commented to Sebastien there didn't appear to be any security in view. He quickly and quietly assured me there most certainly was; we didn't have the 'eye' of awareness the way he did.
After exchanging heartfelt farewells, I continued wandering the beautiful 7th arrondissement looking for a cafe to toast France with a raised glass of wine filled with love. I was grateful I'd be on my way back to Washington, DC on Sunday. I'm thankful Paris will always be "The City of Lights."
See additional photographs of my travels to France here.
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