by Borderstan Contributor November 16, 2015 at 12:40 pm 0

By ANC 2B Commissioner Nicole Mann

Traveling to a foreign country with limited phone and internet service is frustrating to begin with, but the stress is tenfold realizing everyone in the room is checking their cell phones in a panic and you’re left feeling uninformed.

I was sitting in a restaurant in central Paris on Friday evening, on vacation with a friend to get a feel for a foreign culture I had never experienced before. I had the overwhelming feeling that something important had happened when the Parisians at tables around me began to scroll through their phones in nervous whispers, receiving phone calls from friends seemingly all at once.

They were speaking in French, and I didn’t understand a word. I couldn’t stand sitting in the dark, so I switched on my data plan to check the internet against my better judgement.
Immediately the source of tension in the room became clear: there had been attacks in central Paris.

So many different reports were coming in — bombings, shootings, hostages — that, at first, I was skeptical. Surely something had occurred, but often initial reports on Twitter are hyperbolic and inaccurate, so at the time with limited information, I assumed the likelihood of all three reports was slim. I was wrong.

In the next few minutes the busy restaurant had fallen into a nervous dialogue. I don’t speak French, but I could still interpret the conversations: each Parisian was reporting that they were safe on social media, checking phones for updates, receiving calls from concerned friends and family, and rushing to be the first to report new information to the table as the initial speculation became fact.

Bombs had gone off at a stadium outside the central city. There were shootings outside restaurants about a 15 minute stroll from where we sat. And there were hostages held inside of a concert hall not far away.

We paid our check and rushed back to the hotel, flipped on CNN international, and checked Twitter for news.

As is usual with breaking news, Twitter is both the best and worst source to consult. While much of it was informative, just as much was inaccurate. Reports were flowing in about additional bombings and an active shooter at Centre Pompidou and Les Halles – both about two blocks from our hotel, and both of which we had walked by only hours before.

We didn’t believe it – we were convinced we would have heard the commotion from where we were. Anxious to be engaged in the story, we left the hotel to confirm, and walked to both places. They were silent and empty, and we reported back that the speculation was unfounded.

By then, Paris had been essentially shut down by a curfew, a purported first in the city since WWII. But people were still milling about. Emergency vehicles raced down the streets in large caravans every few minutes but otherwise the neighborhood was still. There were active shooters around the city, motives unknown at the time, but no one seemed panicked.

The next morning, with museums closed, we had nothing much else to do but to walk around the city. Our lunch waitress seemed stressed and fatigued but not scared. Some shops were closed, some were open, and some had been adorned by makeshift memorials; a black sheet draped over the door, a black winter scarf tied around a sign.

A salesmen at a clothing store browsing his phone spoke limited English, but asked us if we were American. He showed us a photo of the Empire State Building colored in blue, white, and red.

“Have you seen this?” We had.

“It is beautiful. That this is for us. It is lovely. We appreciate it.” His words were genuine; he was not fearful or shaken. Rather, he seemed resolved, proud; he had had his store open all day.

I told him we had appreciated, too.

That night we visited the memorials at each of the affected sites. Crowds of mourning Parisians were littered with news trucks and live shots, but the Parisians ignored them. The mourners were subdued and quiet.

Next to the memorial near the concert hall where hostages had been taken, a neighborhood bar was open — and packed! The crowd at the bar was so large, it had spilled out onto the sidewalk, but they weren’t sitting at tables sipping beers. Instead, they were standing and drinking in large masses, laughing and loud and tipsy and noisy and excited as though watching a sports game.

Fifty feet from the candlelit memorial, the news crews, and the blood-spattered street, Paris was still alive. I think that was the best way I could ever have experienced French culture.

Nicole Mann is an ANC 2B commissioner. Follow her on Twitter here.

by Tim Regan November 14, 2015 at 6:20 pm 0

Hundreds of people gathered at Lafayette Square in front of the White House this evening to show support for the victims of yesterday’s deadly terror attacks in Paris.

Gérard Araud, French ambassador to the U.S., delivered a brief speech during the vigil. He started his speech by thanking President Obama for his support.

“I want to pay a special tribute to President Obama, who has expressed in a very moving way the support and the solidarity of the United States of America to France,” Araud said.

Araud then spoke about the victims of last night’s vicious attacks.

“Think of all these lives which have been destroyed, all these people who were in a concert, who were in a restaurant, in a bar, and suddenly, after these senseless outbursts of violence, everything was over,” he said.

“Let’s think of all our dead, let’s think also of their parents, their relatives, their spouses, their friends, who are now carrying the burden of the grief, the burden of the mourning,” continued the ambassador.

Araud also addressed the crowd in French.

“My dear compatriots, France is once again at war,” Araud said, in French. “We have lived through a lot of of ordeals in our long history, we will overcome this one once more.”

“They want to divide us, they want to turn the French people against each other, you know it,” the ambassador said. “France is not a race, France is not a religion, France is not an ethnicity, France is a will to live together. And it’s this will to live together that we have to defend today.”

The supporters — some chanting “Vive La France” and waving the French flag — then took a moment of silence, followed by the singing of La Marseillaise, the French national anthem.

Once the ambassador left, many climbed the small hill around the statue of the Marquis de Lafayette and began to sing the La Marseillaise again, this time quietly.

Manon Cano, the reporter’s wife, translated Araud’s speech for Borderstan

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