A Moveable Feast

NOBODY THOUGHT ANYTHING could change the Parisians and their habits, including columnists based out of the French capital and even the French them­selves. Pessimism was in the air ahead of the 2024 Paris Olympics which started with what Roger Cohen of the New York Times— mind you he is not a sports reporter, but someone who made a name as a war correspondent— optimistically described as the “French style blending (of) history and artistic audacity”.

Before leaving for Paris, I had met an amiable French couple enjoying a snack in Brussels’ Parc du Cinquantenaire who wished me “best of luck” when I announced that I was leaving for their city the next day. They had departed fearing chaos and terrorist attacks, but now that the Games are over, they would likely regret leaving at a historical juncture when their hometown was filled with hap­piness. Indeed, the sporting event was a huge, unexpected success. French newspapers even ran articles quoting the foreign media show­ering praise on France for pulling off such a magnificent spectacle.

The first thing that struck me about Parisians was that they too could change—primarily their composure— and could be nicer than usual, attempting to speak in English to make visitors comfortable. Trying to look happy seemed to be the new normal and that mood was on loud display on the faces of the shopkeepers, waiters, and policepersons. Volunteers went out of their way to help confused tourists looking for the right train to board. The weariness and wariness that typically mark French facial expressions were nowhere to be seen, perhaps until the Games were over.

Contrary to worries, the public transport sys­tems, especially the trains, didn’t collapse under pressure and remained the mainstay of people shuttling from one location to another to watch various events. Of course, the main tourist spots were still frequented by touts and access to them was tougher thanks to restrictions on free movement. Museum tickets were mostly sold out, and after repeated attempts, I gave up on visiting Musée de l’Orangerie and Musée d’Orsay.

Despite the heat and humidity, Paris was packed—be it at late-night boat rides on the Seine River, or partying spots along its banks, or in restaurants and pubs elsewhere.

French daily Le Monde’s editorial following the closing ceremony expressed surprise at the grandness of the event that took place amidst political uncertainty and polarisation, which seemed far higher in French politics than at any time since World War II. The editorial said, “Who dared to believe it? While countless scaremongers had predicted a security disaster, an Olympic Games without an audience and a national humiliation, the reality outweighed all the rhetoric.”

While it was a triumph of French soft power, the visitors to the capital city and other venues in the so-called metropoli­tan region — comprising Saint-Denis, Le Bourget, Nanterre, Versailles, and Vaires-sur-Marne — couldn’t help learning an important aspect of the French way of life: flouting traffic rules. The drivers as well as pedestrians jumped red lights or crossed the roads, respectively, with glorious irreverence and gusto. Jaywalking looked like a fundamental right and so was smoking next to a non-smoker with no sense of foreboding. A scent of revolution is as much a part of Parisian culture as sidewalk cafés where everyone sits facing the road.

Sport pundits had found fault with the idea of using national monuments as sporting venues at the Games, but that warn­ing, too, turned out wide off the mark as spectators crowded places like Champ de Mars, Eiffel Tower and other iconic spots.

As a result, Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo came out acquiring a halo thanks to her hard work and her feisty disposition in keeping her flock of officials and volunteers close, ensuring that the worst fears of people— especially those who knew Paris only too well —never came true. So did Emmanuel Macron who relished the idea of an “Olympic truce” of sorts among warring politicians.

To me, personally, France resembled in a sense the 2010 FIFA World Cup held in South Africa where even criminal gangs took a break to uphold the honour of the “Rainbow Nation” when the biggest sporting activity was on. Here in Paris and other venues, too, you felt better and safer thanks to police reinforcements.

Long walks during the day ended with watching BBC back in your hotel room, but the British public broadcaster hardly re­flected the mood in Paris as it focused exces­sively on events where Britons did well. The toast of Paris was Léon Marchand, the 22-year-old French swimmer who won five medals in the Games, four of them gold. The French watched him from various public spaces—as well as in stadiums—on their mobile phones and cheered him on.

I had the luck to visit Hemingway’s favourite haunts. The writer had lived in Paris in his 20s and said about the city, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

France seemed to revive itself during the Games. The question is what will it do with that spurt of new energy?

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