Paris Olympics 2024
We stand close to Pont d’Alma, watching the final stretch, as athletes and performers pass by along the Seine, before the Eiffel Tower’s grand illumination.
There was something different about Paris in the summer of 2024. A quiet hum of excitement in the air, a city moving with purpose. The transport system was a dream! Trains arriving like clockwork, platforms spotless (cleaner than they were during Covid), and together with the people in harmony were a collective impulse of the forthcoming event: the Olympics.
It was as if the entire city had rehearsed its performance for months, preparing for its grandest audience yet: the world. People (Parisians, would you believe!) had smiles that conveyed an understanding: We are fortunate to witness something unique.
Strangers' faces were filled with tangible, warm joy. Smiles were exchanged in silent understanding: We are here. We are part of something fleeting and irreplaceable.
But the reality was that there were some truths we could not hide. The pristine streets and seamless organization all came at a cost. The city had made room for history, even if it meant pushing some of its own to the margins. The thought lingered, but so did the reality that we were here, part of something that would never come again.
Read: Thousands of homeless people removed from Paris region in pre-Olympics ‘social cleansing’, The Guardian
Olympic flame
For starters, B and I watched as the Olympic torch slowed through the streets of Val-de-Marne. A quiet crowd gathered, their eyes reflecting the flickering flame. History was passing through our small corner of the world, a symbol of history passing through our lives, just for a moment.
At Stade de France, B & I watched athletes push the limits of human strength and speed
Opening Ceremony
And then, as if time had skipped a beat, the Opening Ceremony arrived. The city held its breath. We stand close to Pont d’Alma, watching the final stretch, as athletes and performers pass by along the Seine, before the Eiffel Tower’s grand illumination. Rain fell. Not the kind that dampens spirits but the kind that makes everything shimmer. Paris glistened under the streetlights as the sun set and night fell, the river Seine and Parisian streets’ puddles of water mirroring the golden reflections of the night.
Among the standout moments, two left an indelible mark: the provocative performance of Gojira with opera singer Marina Viotti at the Conciergerie and Céline Dion's heartfelt rendition of "L'hymne à l'amour" on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower.
In a daring segment, performers around Gojira and Marina Viotti depicted Marie Antoinette holding her severed head, referencing her 1793 execution during the French Revolution. This scene, set in the Conciergerie where she was imprisoned, sparked controversy. Critics argued it glorified the violence of the Reign of Terror, while others saw it as an artistic statement. I find it fascinating to look at the reaction of the European monarchies who were in attendance, essentially their ancestors. It must have taken a lot to hide the horror on their faces. Suffice to say, Gojira’s Ca ira and Marina Viotti’s L'amour est un oiseau rebelle was a great collab!
Closing the ceremony, Céline Dion rendered a moving performance of Édith Piaf's "L'hymne à l'amour" from the Eiffel Tower. This marked her return to the stage after her 2022 diagnosis of stiff-person syndrome. Days leading to the event, there was a lot of media attention to her condition, all of a sudden, if I might add. I found that kind of odd because it has been a while since we heard of Céline Dion, and I thought maybe she was just making local shows in Québec and less on the international stage. At one point, she gave an interview to TF1 about her condition. What a build-up! That was well-played marketing. In any case, her rendition resonated deeply with her still ever-so-powerful vocals and the song's profound lyrics, leaving many, including myself, in tears.
We worried about getting home, but as if Paris itself was working in harmony, everything was orderly. By midnight, we were back, warmth still lingering from the magic of the night. I felt proud of myself that I understood most of the cultural and historical references highlighted during that event. But I can’t help but wonder how much the international audience could relate to or appreciate, though. Probably, the clichés were easy to spot and nod to (most of them are true, anyway; some clichés are based on certain degrees of truth). Undeniably, it felt more like an excessive showcase of what France is rather than the athletes, which was a shame because this event was meant for them. I think the world has seen and known too much of France to have that much on display. Nevertheless, indeed, they made it exceptional, l’exception française, as they say.
L'exception française refers to France's unique approach to culture, politics, and society, emphasizing national identity, state-supported arts, and a distinct resistance to globalization's homogenizing effects. Story for another day.
We secured more moments and more memories:
The modern, ephemeral, electric glow that is the Olympic flame cauldron standing in the Tuileries Garden.
At Stade de France, B & I watched athletes push the limits of human strength and speed
With RF came tickets to witness something that struck closer to home: Aira Villegas, a Filipino boxer, fighting on her birthday at Parc des Expositions de Villepinte! She eventually went on to win the bronze medal in succeeding rounds.
/Intrusive thought alert/ As I cheered on my fellow Filipina, surrounded by Filipino scholars in the crowd, I felt a shift from being a newcomer here to an 'Ate' (older sister), guiding others through the experience. On our ride home on the RER B, as they chatted and got to know each other better through their struggles as students, I realized that time had been moving all along; I had simply failed to notice.Among the fortunate few to grab a slot in the Marathon pour Tous was B. He ran the midnight Paris streets with determination, despite an injury, aided only by knee support from Decathlon and my old crutch I got when I had that hiking injury in 2022. He didn’t chase a time, only the finish line. As he ran, RF and I wandered through the city, sharing a quiet drink around where he would finish. We weren’t allowed inside the race course, but we met up with B near the finish line. (Reels: Glimpse of clips on that night)
There was something surreal about walking through Paris at midnight, during the Olympics, of all times. The city was alive yet peaceful, as if it, too, was savoring the moment.
Before it all faded into memory, we visited the modern, electric glow of the Olympic flame cauldron standing in the Tuileries Garden. A temporary home for something eternal. A privilege to witness, knowing now that it would return every summer, as if to remind us that for one fleeting season, we were part of something grander than ourselves.
Paris 2024 was indeed an athletic event, but it was also a feeling of movement, of being part of history, even in the smallest of ways. Perhaps that is what makes it unforgettable.