A Love Letter to Paris
Note: This piece was originally written and published in 2015 after a series of terrorist attacks in the city of Paris. While it is older, my love for the city of lights remains.
The first time I fell in love with Paris I was 21. I just completed my semester studying in Joensuu, Finland, and went to visit my best friend and her family in the "city of love" for a few days.
I remember the exact moment when I realized my love of the city: Sarah and her family had to leave the flat early in the morning to catch a train to Provence and my flight back to Finland wasn't until early afternoon, leaving me a few hours to explore the city on my own. It was a weekday and I was up with the Parisians.
I roamed the city without a map, with a coffee in hand, and soaked in everything there was to offer. I saw the street vendors set up for the day, opening their carts and putting their artwork and tchotchkes on display. I saw the Seine lay undisturbed; still. I was one of the first people to enter Notre Dame, the quiet pews echoing their history through silence. I walked until I got myself lost, discovering a beautiful greenspace where people young and old gathered for lunch. I knew I had stumbled upon something beautiful.
The second time I fell in love with Paris, I was 22 and had just graduated from UNC Asheville. The trip, which my family refers to as "the big trip", was my father's first visit to Europe. We spent four days each in London, Paris, and Amsterdam. I experienced a different side of Paris; a side I loved just as much. We ventured to the Richard Lenoir market, ate incredible meals, and attempted not to drive one another crazy. This past summer my parents went back to Europe, for their own "big trip", sans daughter. Their apartment during the trip was mere blocks away from the Bataclan. A scary thought.
The third time I fell in love with Paris, I wasn't falling in love with the city at all. I fell in love with an incredibly passionate, caring group of young people from all across France. They applied to participate in the French Youth Ambassador program, went through a vigorous interview and application process, and spent two weeks in Washington, D.C.
This group of 50 students were amazing. They laughed, they sang, they changed my life frankly. In my two years working at Close Up, I never cried over a group of students. Except this one. I pray for their safety, their courage, and their determination to make a difference for their country.
My good friend Nikki said it best herself on Facebook today:
"Four weeks ago, I met an energetic, hilarious, and brilliant group of French students and young professionals from cities all over France: Toulouse, Lyon, Marseille, Paris and others. Some of their families had immigrated to France from Northern Africa and the Middle East. Many of them were Muslim. All of them had applied to this program and shown dedication to serving their communities and their country. My heart is heavy thinking about the terrorist attacks in Paris. It isn't just a city that I visited six years ago. It is a city that is home to amazing and brilliant young people, a few of whom I had the amazing pleasure to work with. I pray that those students who are from Paris and might have been there 3 nights ago are safe. I pray that they are able to join together with the rest of their countrymen in the aftermath of this tragedy. I pray that they don't have to face prejudice like what is coming out of the US right now. I pray that as they continue to sing La Marseillaise in solidarity, their hearts are lifted and they remember this moment when they sang it on the bus in joy and celebration. And I pray, too, that the words of the French national anthem are no more than words, that the militarism of that song doesn't force out reason. And I pray that peace will reign once again in this world."
While Nikki was speaking about her experience with Paris, and a similar group of French students, much of what she writes rings true. I am praying for all of these young people. I am praying for all of the people of France. And, most importantly, I am praying for the world. For peace. For understanding. For compassion. I am praying for those who see tragedy everyday. And those whose tragedies go unrecognized. Finally, I am praying for a bright tomorrow. The sun shall rise again, my friends.
I leave you with this quote, from Archbishop Desmond Tutu, as a reminder for all of us that human lives are always important: “When we see others as the enemy, we risk becoming what we hate. When we oppress others, we end up oppressing ourselves. All of our humanity is dependent upon recognizing the humanity in others.”