On Paris 2024, part IV

The day is here. I wake up to rain and new travel restrictions. According to Le Monde, some metro stations will be closed all day and even more after the ceremony. This in order to avoid too many people leaving and causing chaos. I wonder what I am misunderstanding here, the French language or the French way of thinking.

The rain means that the police, who would normally be drinking coffee and chatting under our window, have to stay in their cars. I like it because they don't wake up my sleeping teenager, who wanted to get up early to see the American rapper Snoop Dogg and the final torch relay. Instead we see him live on TV, young men standing by with their stereos blasting his music and cheering him on, he dances for them in his gold trainers. He only breaks the rhythm to take a selfie with a fan in a wheelchair. It seemed like such a silly idea from the outside to have this American rapper here in this commune in the northern suburbs of Paris, but it was obviously more important to the young people of Saint Denis than I knew.

I know that Paris hosted the Olympic Games in 1924. And yet, when I saw the short silent film of a tennis match from back then at the Palais Galliera yesterday, I felt confused. The player was wearing the most impractical dress for the sport, which we saw a little further on in the exhibition. We also watched a film of women swimming in the Piscine Molitor in 1929, one of the largest swimming pools in Paris and one of the most popular for 60 years. When it closed, it was taken over by artists and is said to have been the temple of the Parisian underground. I found a picture online from that time, there is graffiti everywhere and looks like a skateboard heaven. Raves and concerts were held in the empty pool. Now that it has been renovated, you can swim there for the insane amount of 300 euros for lunch & pool. I think of the piscine my daughter went to, next to her old school. Built between 1884 and 1887, it was one of the first bathing establishments of its kind here, and also housed medical and so-called hygienic activities. At that time, most Parisians bathed in the Seine, where some swimming competitions might take place in the coming weeks. The rain is still falling so I guess we will have to wait and see.

The last (and only) sporting event this writer covered was the world championship for the homeless held in Copenhagen many years ago, sponsored by Éric Cantona among others, and I often think about those I met from the Norwegian team. Outside, I hear the sounds of singers rehearsing for tonight's performance, and I try to figure out which bridges we need to cross to get to the RER C for a birthday party later today, just outside Paris. There will be an apéro and big screens showing the ceremony. We walked past the place where Marie Antoinette spent her last night alive yesterday and look at the festive decorations. We also passed a French family of three wearing berets in the colours of the French flag, and are not sure if the sulky teenage son in the red one had said d'accord to this stunt.

I got my first film back from the lab, taken with my little Olympus. The Japanese company, which started out making optical products, changed its name to Olympus in 1949, named after Mount Olympus, the home of the Greek gods. The black and white pictures show soap bubbles in the Marais, my daughter at Versailles, the tomb of Brassaï and also a little coffee cup enjoyed in a bistro a few weeks ago. There will be more.

It's the diversity of the city that keeps me here, the constant conflict between the bourgeois and the beggars, who act as the machinery of Paris. It's honest in a way: there's no comb-over, no pretence that everything is fine, which you get in other cities. This is it. What you see is what you get. Except from where we are staying. No tourist sees the real Paris here. It's like being in a film still, walking along these two islands in the Seine. A friend of mine claims that his hometown only maintains the illusion of being the city of love because it can't afford not to. He has never understood the fascination of the Eiffel Tower or the Sacré Cœur, which he says is basically just a big symbol of the Catholic Church and the establishment. We've even argued about the Buttes-Chaumont park, because he doesn't like the reminder of Napoleon. And everything around Notre Dame breaks his heart, how easy it was to fund the restoration while the government still ignores helping the people who are suffering. He has no words to share about JO, he has already left the city and refuses to return until it is over.

These texts relating to Paris 2024 are a work in progress.