Greetings and many apologies for my absence the last couple of weeks. I’m blaming it on the Olympic Games which will start this coming Friday. Why not, I figure, everyone else is blaming everything on them.
The truth is that Paris is in a state of “zizanie” or chaos, and it seeps into everything, including life and accomplishments. The sound of hammers and power washing drowns out conversations, walls go up, favorite monuments are hidden, tried and true routes are closed, cars are constantly doing u-turns as drivers realize they can’t really get anywhere.
As I bicycle through it all (on blessedly empty streets because vehicle traffic is diverted), I realize how many minds have been figuring out the details of hosting these Games, including: 329 sports events and 22 paralympic sports events; 39 sites where they will take place; the opening ceremony which will cover 6 kilometers (roughly 4 miles) on a newly clean Seine; and 150,000 created to pull off this event. The Place de la Concorde will soon be a skate park; the Invalides home to archery; the Champs de Mars, a judo arena. And this doesn’t even take into account the snappy new uniforms for the 4,000 young, buff policemen and women who are now surveying the streets of the city, blowing their musical whistles with abandon.
There is another amazing thing going on that I hope will continue long after the Games. I think transit workers have been taking nice lessons because, after all, the world will be watching. I experienced this first hand when I had to re-magnetize my Navigo metro pass and the experience was truly pleasant! I got on the train at Gare St. Lazare going to Rouen, a heavily used line that stops near Monet’s home in Giverny and has been equipped with brand, new trains, its tastefully decorated cars rife with stairs that make life difficult for anyone with luggage bigger than a handbag. I mustered my resources to carry my suitcase up to the luggage rack when, as if by magic, a bright, young conductor appeared at my side. “Madame, let me help you with that!” Accustomed to a surlier welcome at the best of times, I was frozen in place at this epic event.
The other day I was going to the dentist, across the river on the Pont d’Alma. I got to the bridge and a bevy of young police officers were diverting traffic, checking everyone for the QR code we’re all supposed to have to navigate the city. I tried to get the code online, as we are supposed to, but after two attempts and two failures, I gave up. Because I didn’t have it I was, kindly, diverted down little streets I didn’t know which was fun, around in a big circle and over the Pont des Invalides, then further diverted to get where I was going, late. I’d called ahead and the weary receptionist said, “How late will you be?” as though this is a question she now asks twenty times a day. Turns out everyone at the office was understanding since none of them had been able to get their QR codes either, quitting after three attempts. Their ultimate solution? Closing the office until the Games are over.
A friend of mine who frequents the President Wilson market came over last night. “I don’t know how I’m going to eat during the Games, so I decided to go to Spain,” she said, as a tear fell from her eye. “The market is closed, just CLOSED.” It’s been disbanded to make way for the triathlon sports taking place at Trocadero.
In preparation for the opening ceremony on the Seine, wire fences have gone up on just about every street that leads to the river, and the quais are banned from use. There are openings in some of the fences for people to slip behind and go to a café for a coffee, where they sit looking as if they are in a zoo.
But despite the complaints and disruption it’s really pretty fun to watch these games come together and, as usual, when it comes to planning a fête, the French are masters. If any of you saw the Bastille Day fireworks you know that the French have that “je ne sais quoi” when it comes to doing it their own cool, imaginative, classy way. The games are the same; I cannot wait to see how it unfolds, and I will, on a television screen. Because I won’t be in Paris except for a day or two to feel the magic or the pain. Instead, I’ll be in Provence for ten days, then off to the cool breezes of Normandy.
I imagine many of you will join me watching the Games on a screen. I’m including two iconic French recipes here to make you feel like you are present. Enjoy them both!
