Dispatch: An American in Paris
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Travel Weekly contributor Jenny Hart was in Paris after the city was attacked. Her report follows.
I had just boarded my flight to Paris when the messages started coming through. “Where are you? What’s happening? ARE YOU OKAY?”
It was Friday, Nov. 13, and the terrorist attacks that would take 129 lives were underway in France’s capital city.
Nothing was mentioned during the 7-hour flight. I wondered what the airline staff knew.
I scanned the heartbreaking headlines as we disembarked and prepared
myself for absolute chaos at Charles de Gaulle Airport. What I
encountered was almost more disconcerting: complete silence. The customs
officer wordlessly took my passport, stamped it, and shoved it back at
me. I was on an equally quiet street just moments later, the loudest
noise the buzz being my cell phone and its incoming flow of concerned
messages.
When I arrived at my accommodations — the Idol Hotel, a lovely
music-themed boutique property in the 8th arrondissement — I was greeted
with an apologetic smile: “Welcome to Paris. I’m sorry this is the day
you have to come.”
Similarly, later that day when a cafe barista realized I was American,
he shook his head and said earnestly in English, “I hope you are still
able to enjoy my city while you are here.”
I felt terrible guilt being apologized to, as if the experience of a
tainted vacation could ever be worse than having one’s home attacked.
But I suppose to truly excel in hospitality, the patron has to be put
first. And the service I received that day, at the hotel and the various
venues I visited, was nothing short of exceptional. I was humbled by
how serious the French took those responsibilities during such a
perilous time.
The streets were nearly empty the entire day. Even in heavily populated
areas, crowds were sparse. Paris, normally so beautiful and bustling,
felt unshakably eerie. The Eiffel Tower mourned with its city, looking
like a sullen, hulking mass in its blacked-out state. During my
30-minute walk home from dinner, I must have passed more than two dozen
heavily armed police officers patrolling the streets. But I didn’t pass
anyone else.
The city started to wake up on Sunday, with more people out and the
attractions taking hesitant steps forward. Notre Dame forbade tours, but
allowed visitors to sit in the pews and pray. The Eiffel Tower also
denied visitors, but brightly lit up the dusk sky. I let my emotions get
the best of me while walking past both; at the Cathedral, my eyes stung
with sorrow, and at the Tower, gleamed with pride.
As of today, Monday, Paris seems largely back to normal. The Metro
stations were packed with commuters and sidewalk cafes spilled over.
After a moment of silence led by French president François Hollande at
one of the attack sites, many of the notable museums and monuments
reopened, and the infamous Eiffel serenely displayed France’s colors.
Even in its darkest hours, the City of Light refuses to stay dim