2024 Olympic Zombies: “Handball to the right, volleyball to the left.” For sixteen days, the volunteer managing the people outside the South Paris Arena was the only sound I could hear while I was awake. His loud megaphone echoed around the Place de la Porte de Versailles and into my hotel room on the seventh floor, which was across the square 150m away.
He was going to start at 8 a.m. An hour earlier, the group of gendarme trucks would have shown up, and each van would have felt the need to sound its bell to let everyone in the 15th arrondissement know it was there. They would set up their roadblocks, buy croissants, and then spend the day showing off to people walking by in Paris.
Paris is not just a city; it’s a world unto itself, where every street corner whispers a new story and every sunset paints a masterpiece.
The French Police would show up around the same time, and soon the well-dressed cops would be pacing back and forth outside the venue doors as well. All day, cafes were packed with handball and volleyball fans wearing national colors, carrying flags, and singing songs. Players and fans were always coming and going.
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Around noon, Monsieur le Megaphone would usually lead the people in a version of Joe Dassin’s “Les Champs-Élysées,” and by 9 p.m., everyone was angry. Everything was wonderful.
Today, though, things are different. Today is Monday, the first day of the Games. It is the morning after the grand finale. The horn has stopped making noise. The gendarme convoy at 7 a.m. has been replaced by a contractors’ truck at the same time. As soon as the gates are taken down, a group of workers in bright orange hi-vis vests appear. Now there are no more problems. The bus stop is now open again.
Is this what everyday life is like in this part of southwest Paris? People who came to the Olympics are no longer there, but the Games logo is still on everything and the flags are still flying. Don’t think about the scary movie 28 Days Later; this is 28 Hours Later, and I am an Olympic zombie.
This isn’t really true, of course. Paris was never without people living in it. There are 2.1 million people living in the French city. Things keep going. They just haven’t been dancing and singing their way down the street in orange clothes for two weeks straight after watching the Netherlands beat them in volleyball.
Le Monde got the facts and numbers to back this up from Corinne Menegaux, who is in charge of the renamed Paris Je t’aime tourist office. She said that the number of people living in the Paris area during the first week of the Olympics was the same as it was during the same time in 2023. It’s interesting that there was a small but unexpected 3% rise in the city itself.
Then there were the tourists. There were 2.4 million of them from outside of Paris from July 25 to August 2, and 73% of them were French. Half of them were only there for the day. The last 27% of tourists were from other countries, which is 14% more than last year. So Paris stayed crowded, and it was day-trippers from “la France profonde” as well as loud foreign fans who made the city so lively and colorful.
But now it’s hangover day for those of us who stayed the night. We had to be nice to the party hosts and help clear up the plates and glasses, while we wondered how to get the wine stain out of the carpet and when we could leave.
Before I pack my bags for my Tuesday Eurostar home, I go for a walk and stop by a place I often visit. Two days before the Games started, I asked the chef-owner of 750g La Table what he thought about them. The things he said have stuck with me the whole time. His first words were, “The Olympics?” “They’re a bunch of shit.” It’s terrible. My income has dropped by 35%. Companies are shutting down. Tourists don’t come here.
Now that the show is over, I ask him what he thinks. He smiles and says, “Ah, I’ve messed up!” “I was wrong.” This is something that Angelique Chrisafis, who writes for The Guardian and lives in Paris, hears a lot from people there right now.
“It was unbelievable for my business and for the city.” I was wrong about everything. We’re not busy today, as you can see. Choose where to sit. We just rest and clean up now.
After we shake hands, I ask him what’s next for him and Paris. “Why now?” “I’m going to make a stand,” he says. He lies down and laughs, then goes to the back room to take a nap.
