The city is swarming with international rugby fans, and lucky for me, the players as well.
Running in Champ De Mars is never dull at the moment, seeing a scrumful of rugby boys running in big groups is more than inspiration to keep me going.
Despite England’s performance in the tournament so far, the atmosphere is electric everywhere in Paris, without any unsightly, drunken scenes as the rugby crowds behave accordingly. Everyone wears their patriotism on their shirts, and there is no animosity, (apart from the poor English bloke walking through a crowd of hundreds of Scots at the Champ de Mars who roared blasphemies at him). So far it has been the Scots who have made the most noise, taking over the Champ de Mars for a few days, it was swimming in kilts, beer, and bare bottoms (I’m not complaining!)
As usual, Paris has done things in style and have suspended a huge rugby ball in the middle of the Eiffel Tower, lighting it up green and gold at night throughout the tournament. They also have large outdoor screens up in front of Trocadero and Hotel De Ville for mass viewing. It felt quite unreal to be watching England play in such an atmosphere, with the late afternoon sun setting on Hotel De Ville the picture was still amazing as people lolled about on the fake grass beneath the screen. The police, as always, were in control, with high security and directing people and traffic, and numerous Gendarmerie vans on standby. A year ago I would have criticised them and accused them of being control freaks, but now I realise what they do makes sense, they don’t want it to get out of hand, and you can be sure you won’t see any drunk English louts singing ‘Sweet Low Sweet Chariot’ whilst stumbling along Place d’Hotel DeVille, for if they did they’d be quickly silenced. Most Brits we passed by nodded in patriotic showmanship, the funniest being a tubby Anglophone with his roses proudly on display above his impressive gut, teamed with a French beret…..now that is class!
The city of Paris has introduced a new, inexpensive, biking system - the 'velib'. Several thousand very good quality bikes are stationed all over Paris, 300 meters apart, with over 300 km of bike lanes created especially for those brave enough to use them. After finally working out how to use a 'velib', I set off with a friend along the Seine on a splendid late summer’s morning. To be riding a bike around Paris felt so liberating, and not quite as terrifying as I thought. Because so many people are doing it, it makes it more accessible somehow, easier to slip into the crowd of nervous yet gleeful cyclists weaving their way around the city, much to the chagrin of taxi and bus drivers.
As I'm getting used to all the bus/taxi/bike lanes whilst dodging the traffic of pedestrians, motorcycles, cars, and other cyclists, it all seems to be going very smoothly, no crashes or injuries…until the junction at Pont Neuf. Just after this things get a bit tricky, and we end up on the wide pavement adjacent to the bus lane, which was very narrow and full of buses, a mere gap stop til we could get on the road again. However, in unforgiving Paris, you are not allowed to make even the smallest mistake or deviate from the norm, and a vendeur (man selling books along the Seine) decides to inform me of my crime of briefly riding on ‘le trottoir’ by grabbing me as I ride slowly by so I nearly fall. Unbelievably aggressive, he shouts at me in French for 'rouling' on the sidewalk. Aggressively French back I tell him ‘Ne touché pas!’ and it infuriates him (unbeknownst to me it was a form of the language used only for the lowest of the low). Enraged, he comes after me. I hop on my bike and try to escape and he kicks me as I wobble away, shouting very English profanities over my shoulder, bien sur!
Running in Champ De Mars is never dull at the moment, seeing a scrumful of rugby boys running in big groups is more than inspiration to keep me going.
Despite England’s performance in the tournament so far, the atmosphere is electric everywhere in Paris, without any unsightly, drunken scenes as the rugby crowds behave accordingly. Everyone wears their patriotism on their shirts, and there is no animosity, (apart from the poor English bloke walking through a crowd of hundreds of Scots at the Champ de Mars who roared blasphemies at him). So far it has been the Scots who have made the most noise, taking over the Champ de Mars for a few days, it was swimming in kilts, beer, and bare bottoms (I’m not complaining!)
As usual, Paris has done things in style and have suspended a huge rugby ball in the middle of the Eiffel Tower, lighting it up green and gold at night throughout the tournament. They also have large outdoor screens up in front of Trocadero and Hotel De Ville for mass viewing. It felt quite unreal to be watching England play in such an atmosphere, with the late afternoon sun setting on Hotel De Ville the picture was still amazing as people lolled about on the fake grass beneath the screen. The police, as always, were in control, with high security and directing people and traffic, and numerous Gendarmerie vans on standby. A year ago I would have criticised them and accused them of being control freaks, but now I realise what they do makes sense, they don’t want it to get out of hand, and you can be sure you won’t see any drunk English louts singing ‘Sweet Low Sweet Chariot’ whilst stumbling along Place d’Hotel DeVille, for if they did they’d be quickly silenced. Most Brits we passed by nodded in patriotic showmanship, the funniest being a tubby Anglophone with his roses proudly on display above his impressive gut, teamed with a French beret…..now that is class!
The city of Paris has introduced a new, inexpensive, biking system - the 'velib'. Several thousand very good quality bikes are stationed all over Paris, 300 meters apart, with over 300 km of bike lanes created especially for those brave enough to use them. After finally working out how to use a 'velib', I set off with a friend along the Seine on a splendid late summer’s morning. To be riding a bike around Paris felt so liberating, and not quite as terrifying as I thought. Because so many people are doing it, it makes it more accessible somehow, easier to slip into the crowd of nervous yet gleeful cyclists weaving their way around the city, much to the chagrin of taxi and bus drivers.
As I'm getting used to all the bus/taxi/bike lanes whilst dodging the traffic of pedestrians, motorcycles, cars, and other cyclists, it all seems to be going very smoothly, no crashes or injuries…until the junction at Pont Neuf. Just after this things get a bit tricky, and we end up on the wide pavement adjacent to the bus lane, which was very narrow and full of buses, a mere gap stop til we could get on the road again. However, in unforgiving Paris, you are not allowed to make even the smallest mistake or deviate from the norm, and a vendeur (man selling books along the Seine) decides to inform me of my crime of briefly riding on ‘le trottoir’ by grabbing me as I ride slowly by so I nearly fall. Unbelievably aggressive, he shouts at me in French for 'rouling' on the sidewalk. Aggressively French back I tell him ‘Ne touché pas!’ and it infuriates him (unbeknownst to me it was a form of the language used only for the lowest of the low). Enraged, he comes after me. I hop on my bike and try to escape and he kicks me as I wobble away, shouting very English profanities over my shoulder, bien sur!
Lesson learned – wear heels next time so I can kick him back.
