In the past days, I was working on something art historically justified for this blog about the adaptability of Dutch artists arriving in Paris in comparison to my own experiences, but after Friday night this seems completely futile. In a theatre in the center of Paris dozens and dozens of people were killed. At the same time near the Place de la République several café's and restaurants were targeted, as well two locations near the Stade de France where France was playing a friendly match against Germany. All hell had broken lose not 10 minutes from where we live. 129 people were killed.
We were asleep. We had had a hectic week and an early night seemed a good idea. We were woken by our phones bleeping madly. Many of our family and friends were worried.
In our neighbourhood, however, everything was quiet. And the silence remained for the whole weekend. We live on the groundfloor and we can usually hear the sound of cars and people talking, laughing, shouting outside our window in French and in many different other languages as we live in a neighbourhood with many nationalities. This weekend Paris seemed muted.
It was not that people stayed inside, on the contrary, there were long queues in the supermarket, the parks were full of people picknicking, the tables on the café terraces were all taken and the streets were as busy as always. It was just the absence of loud noises, except for the sirens that could be heard where ever we were.
I was and still am incredibly impressed by the fact that the Parisians are carrying on with their lives, refusing to give in to fear. They are trying to get on with their lives as best they can. It is chaotic and all kinds of measures are taken: if we're late for school that's it, we're not allowed in. You can understand that our children like that measure a lot. The library of the Institut National de l'Histoire de l'art is closed this morning without notice and I expect it will stay this way for the coming period.
But the Parisian resilience is enourmous. Everything is done with courtesy without impatience or anger. I saw myself as a stranger here, a visitor for just a few months and my feelings about the events of Friday night were horror, pity and an overwhelming helplessness. The director of the Petit Palais just emailed me, writing that he was worried, because, after all, I am a Parisienne as well. I can tell you, judging from the past days, I am proud to be a Parisienne.
