I don't really know how to begin.
I have written and rewritten this so many times. Sometimes I want to make it funny, to try and lighten the mood. Sometimes I am angry. Sometimes I am so sad that typing the words brings tears to my eyes. Sometimes I feel as though my opinion is so insignificant in the great scheme of things that I shouldn't post at all. Sometimes I feel that it would be dishonest, considering the purpose of this blog is document my time in Paris, not to write about it. Most of the time I am so confused I don't know how to put the words down. So I will just write what I can see, what I can feel, and what I hope.
Paris is quiet this morning. There are very few people in the street. The silence is so heavy it is like the people are wearing it. The silence tells you everything. Grief. Anger. Shock. Confusion. The events of last night have passed, and as I write we live in this strange 'tween place. Is it over? Are there more attacks to come? We don't know. We feel like we are waiting. Waiting for something else to happen, waiting for it to be over.
I cannot inform you about the perpetrators any more than your preferred news channel. I cannot tell you anything else about the who, why, and how of what happened. I have no special insight into these attacks. I have no theories about the reasons for the attack. I don't want to condemn anyone, I don't want to accuse. Something terrible happened here last night, and rather than repeat the details you can find on the news, or stand on a soapbox to blame a group I know nothing about, I want to tell you what I have seen in Paris today.
Here in the west of Paris, further from the attacks, life is starting to begin again, but it feels like a different city. People are out on the streets, often in groups - whole families, sometimes two friends, most of them are holding hands. The supermarché on our street is full to bursting. Partly this seems normal - most Parisians do their shopping on a Saturday, but it feels more full than normal. Some may be panic-buying, afraid that, like with the Charlie Hebdo attack, someone will resurface to resume the attack. Other seem like they are acting out of defiance - they will not be scared into hiding in their homes by an act of terrorism.
I can see into the flats opposite from my balcony, and everyone is on the phone, calling loved ones. Someone on the balcony waved at me. We have never spoken before. My host family have called friends and family around France and Spain. I have called my family in the UK and have received messages from friends in the UK, Greece, Spain, The Netherlands, USA, Japan and more. There are friends who I have lost contact with after university, and some who I haven't spoken to since secondary school messaging me to ask if I am ok. Yes we are shocked, and sad, frightened and confused, but we are also united in these feelings. Friends have arrived at our house here in Paris and we are cooking food, pouring wine, and consoling each other. We are all feeling the same things, so we can all stand together.
Wherever you are in the world, the news tonight will show the same footage. You will see flashing lights, police, and bodies. They will talk about terrorism, they will talk about motivation for the attacks, they will ask the same questions - "Who is behind this?", "How can we stop them?", "why are they doing it?". You will see world leaders offering words of condolence, words of solidarity, words of war. What you may not see is that suicide attacks in Burj al Barajneh, Beirut, that killed at least 41 people yesterday. They will probably not get the same media coverage, the same statements from world leaders, the same sympathy. As someone who lives in Paris, I extend my deepest condolences and sympathies to them. I hope those affected are now safe, cared for, and with those they love. I hope that in the absence of words from governments and media, they are still hearing the same words I have heard spoken here in Paris, between friends, between family, and between total strangers:
"Tout va bien avec vous?"
"Ça va?"
"Tu es hors de danger maintenant?"
"Tu me manques."
"Je t'aime"
Life as an au pair is strange. We come to a country to learn about the culture, to live with the families, to share in the French experience. I don't doubt that there are many au pairs in Paris today who feel scared and very far from home. But you have a family and friends here too. They feel as you feel. They are as scared as you, and for them their home has profoundly changed. Today I hope you do not feel like a foreigner in Paris. Today I hope you feel what I feel,
Je suis Parisienne. Nous Sommes Tous Parisiens.
I have written and rewritten this so many times. Sometimes I want to make it funny, to try and lighten the mood. Sometimes I am angry. Sometimes I am so sad that typing the words brings tears to my eyes. Sometimes I feel as though my opinion is so insignificant in the great scheme of things that I shouldn't post at all. Sometimes I feel that it would be dishonest, considering the purpose of this blog is document my time in Paris, not to write about it. Most of the time I am so confused I don't know how to put the words down. So I will just write what I can see, what I can feel, and what I hope.
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| Image Credit - Jean Jullien (@jean_jullien ) |
Paris is quiet this morning. There are very few people in the street. The silence is so heavy it is like the people are wearing it. The silence tells you everything. Grief. Anger. Shock. Confusion. The events of last night have passed, and as I write we live in this strange 'tween place. Is it over? Are there more attacks to come? We don't know. We feel like we are waiting. Waiting for something else to happen, waiting for it to be over.
I cannot inform you about the perpetrators any more than your preferred news channel. I cannot tell you anything else about the who, why, and how of what happened. I have no special insight into these attacks. I have no theories about the reasons for the attack. I don't want to condemn anyone, I don't want to accuse. Something terrible happened here last night, and rather than repeat the details you can find on the news, or stand on a soapbox to blame a group I know nothing about, I want to tell you what I have seen in Paris today.
Here in the west of Paris, further from the attacks, life is starting to begin again, but it feels like a different city. People are out on the streets, often in groups - whole families, sometimes two friends, most of them are holding hands. The supermarché on our street is full to bursting. Partly this seems normal - most Parisians do their shopping on a Saturday, but it feels more full than normal. Some may be panic-buying, afraid that, like with the Charlie Hebdo attack, someone will resurface to resume the attack. Other seem like they are acting out of defiance - they will not be scared into hiding in their homes by an act of terrorism.
Elsewhere in the city there are signs of the great generosity of Parisians. Last night the hashtag #PorteOuverte was used by Parisians to offer safe houses for those who were trapped by events and could not return home. Now the hashtag #DonDuSang is trending as they line the streets to give blood. When le Président de la République urged solidarity, the people of Paris took it to heart. They are giving their homes and their blood to help others. I am moved and genuinely astounded at their generosity.
I can see into the flats opposite from my balcony, and everyone is on the phone, calling loved ones. Someone on the balcony waved at me. We have never spoken before. My host family have called friends and family around France and Spain. I have called my family in the UK and have received messages from friends in the UK, Greece, Spain, The Netherlands, USA, Japan and more. There are friends who I have lost contact with after university, and some who I haven't spoken to since secondary school messaging me to ask if I am ok. Yes we are shocked, and sad, frightened and confused, but we are also united in these feelings. Friends have arrived at our house here in Paris and we are cooking food, pouring wine, and consoling each other. We are all feeling the same things, so we can all stand together.
Wherever you are in the world, the news tonight will show the same footage. You will see flashing lights, police, and bodies. They will talk about terrorism, they will talk about motivation for the attacks, they will ask the same questions - "Who is behind this?", "How can we stop them?", "why are they doing it?". You will see world leaders offering words of condolence, words of solidarity, words of war. What you may not see is that suicide attacks in Burj al Barajneh, Beirut, that killed at least 41 people yesterday. They will probably not get the same media coverage, the same statements from world leaders, the same sympathy. As someone who lives in Paris, I extend my deepest condolences and sympathies to them. I hope those affected are now safe, cared for, and with those they love. I hope that in the absence of words from governments and media, they are still hearing the same words I have heard spoken here in Paris, between friends, between family, and between total strangers:
"Tout va bien avec vous?"
"Ça va?"
"Tu es hors de danger maintenant?"
"Tu me manques."
"Je t'aime"
Life as an au pair is strange. We come to a country to learn about the culture, to live with the families, to share in the French experience. I don't doubt that there are many au pairs in Paris today who feel scared and very far from home. But you have a family and friends here too. They feel as you feel. They are as scared as you, and for them their home has profoundly changed. Today I hope you do not feel like a foreigner in Paris. Today I hope you feel what I feel,
Je suis Parisienne. Nous Sommes Tous Parisiens.
2 comments:
honest and heart felt. I am gald you are safe. a warm hug from greece
My heart is aching for Paris, we are united - all the way from the US
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