When friends texted me yesterday to ask what the vibe was like in Paris I had to reply that we were experiencing the Olympics in the most Parisian way: on holiday far away from the capital. The last opening ceremony I watched was in 2012 where an ill advised alphabetic drinking game rather put me off, but in our little Airbnb on the Ligurian coast we tested out the unreliable wifi at 7.30pm and watched as a small rowboat made its way down the Seine before Austerlitz Bridge burst into clouds of bleu blanc rouge.
After that my family group chat was rather dubious for a while, with Gaga and the can-can failing to impress. We were also rather indignant that the Australian team boat failed to appear as the alphabet marched on (my husband suggested perhaps we shouldn’t have cancelled that submarine contract) but eventually we realised we’d appear at the end as we’re hosting in my hometown of Brisbane in 2032.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to A Week in Paris to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.