Last week the U.S. State Department issued a travel warning to American tourists in Europe. Their message: stop being American en masse. Well, that’s pretty much what I ended up doing this weekend (much like the majority of this trip). I went to a food and wine festival up on Montmartre, which among other things, is a the highest point in Paris and home to Sacré-Cœur, a beautiful and grand basilica. Naturally, it was flooded with tourists and a little bit of anxiety.
And the day started pretty uncomfortably as well. When I boarded the metro to Monmartre, I had my first brush with a French pickpocket, a highly-revered and infamous species. Honestly though, I was surprised that it took so long for someone to try to steal my stuff. Anyway, getting on the train, I noticed a well-dressed middle-aged woman standing suspiciously close to me. As I took a step to get into the train, I noticed a hand nearly inside my pocket but I quickly blocked it somewhat reflexively. At first I didn’t think too much of it because I’m used to women reaching for my pants. But it turns out, she also tried snatching a friend’s purse. Luckily for us, the would-be thief left empty-handed. Perhaps she should consider a new profession.
I then made my way up to Monmartre, along with every other American in the entire city, or so it seemed. I didn’t hear a lick of French amidst the crowd of sweaty, hungry, and impatient tourists. Although it can be quite comforting to hear the occasional American accent when you’re in a foreign place, it was really just annoying this time around. In any case, large crowds are usually fairly dangerous to begin with, but with the added stress of a potential terrorist attack, it seemed that everyone felt a little unnerved. After all, if there was a place for some unfortunate act of terror to happen, I probably couldn’t have picked a worse spot.
To our comfort, security detail was high. Unformed men armed with machine guns and stern faces seemed to be on tight patrol. At least that’s what it looked like until they took their digital cameras out to take pictures of Sacré-Cœur. Yes, that’s right. The very people who I thought were protecting us were more obnoxiously American in their tendencies than I was! I know it’s hard to walk by one of the most beautiful parts of Paris without taking a quick photo, but is it too much to ask for the officers to at least but on some façade of professionalism? Reasonably so, I got out of the festival as quick as I could.
To be fair, the festival itself was a blast. Everything was cheap and delicious and I couldn’t have asked for weather more pleasant than what I got. But would I do it again, given the threat of terrorism? I planned my trip to the festival knowing that it could have been dangerous, but I still made an informed decision to attend it anyway. Yet I still let that lingering fear hamper what could have been an even better day. I guess that’s where I went wrong. I’m not saying it’s good to be foolish about your safety or to willingly put yourself in harm’s way, but when you’re in Paris for the only time in your life, it’s tempting to not want to live in fear.
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