Follow our Olympics coverage from the Paris Games. And follow live coverage of day one of the 2024 Paris Olympics, including dedicated swimming coverage.
PARIS — Two floors up from the masses of humanity, two women sat quietly at a table on their balcony, a bottle of wine between them. A co*cker spaniel puppy played at their heels. Their apartment, on the Avenue du Général Tripier, was not directly on the Seine but close enough that they could glimpse the river through the trees.
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This was the Parisian way to do the Olympic opening ceremonies, equal parts proud and disinterested. While thousands of people queued along the streets with their IDs and QR codes to gain access to the banks of the river, the lines stretching for city blocks, those living near the river either long ago hightailed it out of town or watched idly as Paris unveiled its spectacle. “The French,” said Radouan, an Uber driver who counts Victor Wembanyama as his favorite French athlete, “we are never happy.”
Which is not, in its entirety, true. The French are indeed happy to have the world at their doorstep, and thrilled to open the doors to an Olympic Games that had, for its past two iterations, been closed tight due to the pandemic. But this is also a city that takes its aloofness with as much seriousness as its artistry. The well-choreographed ceremony turned on the lights of the Eiffel Tower just as the French delegation made its way last and finally on its boat past the throngs of rain-soaked spectators. But unlike America, where a citywide cheer might have greeted the arrival, their arrival was greeted with quiet dignity.
Warned for months about crowds, closures and police, much of Paris emptied, turning the keys over to those visiting. Getting there — or anywhere — was not easy. Planned train closures combined with an attack on a high-speed train line made maneuvering around the city an Olympic event itself — which is why locals bolted. Upon the 12 train’s arrival at the La Motte-Picquet Grenelle stop, a kindly man wearing a purple vest signifying his role as an Olympic volunteer told everyone to exit the train two stops shy of the Eiffel Tower.
The train, like so many others, would go no further.
Ceremony-goers queue outside one of the entrance gates Friday. Once the crowds were let in, the streets around the Seine were largely quiet. (Olympia de Maismont / AFP via Getty Images)
Outside the station, people milled about, trying to wander their way toward the Trocadéro, site of the opening ceremonies. As they found their way, they clogged the streets. Two hours before the start of the party, people spilled in droves toward the river, walking down a wide promenade oddly devoid of capitalism. No hawkers, no vendors, only two people stretching a Jesus banner halfway across the roadway. Plenty wore their country’s wares — a pair of stars-and-stripes knee socks, a Brazilian flag-turned cape — but most just hustled in the direction of the river.
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Yet a quick pivot off the main drag, down the Avenue de Docteur Brouardel, unveiled a street completely empty save a man idling on a bench and three pigeons. The balconies above were closed taut, bearing evidence of their absentee inhabitants. The street led all the way to the backside of the Eiffel Tower, so close that you could see the names etched on its side and the elevator making its way up the inside.
Outside, people, largely tourists, snapped pictures and one debated the merits of Olympic sports for a TV affiliate. “How could you have rock climbing and not dodgeball?”
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Yet the closer the crowd moved to the ceremony, the more purposeful it became. Unlike say, a quintessential American sporting spectacle — a college or NFL football game, for example — there was no stopping to imbibe, no draw to simply be near the moment if not in it. The goal was entry or bust. So keen was their intent to make it into the ceremonies, the restaurants along the way stood largely empty.
“We hoped for more,” said Sihem, the manager at Vesper’s, a charming sushi spot just blocks from the Seine.
Bemoaning the city’s decision to ask restaurants to remove sidewalk tables for security reasons, Sihem went on to add that they hoped things would improve once the opening ceremony restrictions were lifted. Vesper’s, though, had an ace in the hole: a TV.
Restaurant management wisely propped a big screen on a table at the front of the small front dining area, beckoning people to come inside. The big screen was entirely a Paris anomaly. Most brasseries do not sport TVs, content to make the meal and the conversation the focal point. But slowly, as the actual ceremonies began, people filled the interior front seats — the well-appointed back dining room, with cozy banquettes and floral wallpaper, stood empty. A man visiting from Atlanta shared space with two Frenchwomen and a French grandmother watching with her granddaughter.
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Restaurant workers stopped and paused to watch as the ceremony began, fretting temporarily and then cheering when the frozen screen gave way to Lady Gaga at the piano.
Yet as the restaurant filled, outside the streets were so empty that a jogger got in his run, dodging only puddles.
GO DEEPERA walk along the Seine for the Olympic opening ceremony, where the joy was back(Top photo of a deserted Paris street near the Grand Palais during Friday’s opening ceremony: Olympia de Maismont / AFP via Getty Images)
Dana O’Neil, a senior writer for The Athletic, has worked for more than 25 years as a sports writer, covering the Final Four, the Super Bowl, World Series, NBA Finals and NHL playoffs. She has worked previously at ESPN and the Philadelphia Daily News. She is the author of three books, including "The Big East: Inside the Most Entertaining and Influential Conference in College Basketball History." Follow Dana on Twitter @DanaONeilWriter
