An American in Paris Thinks It is Safe. But is it?
November 7, 2005
Letter From Paris
For Tourists, a Calmer Paris
By DONALD MORRISON
For a city under siege, Paris, in its center, is oddly pleasant these days. The big department stores throb with shoppers. Strollers throng the Champs-Elysées. Outdoor cafes buzz with people taking advantage of the unseasonably seductive mid-autumn sun.
Police officers are, if anything, less evident than usual. The traffic officers who set up shop on the busy avenue outside my Paris apartment nearly every evening to nab drunken drivers and expired-license holders have failed to materialize lately. It's a great time to be a motorist in central Paris.
Indeed, the thing to know about "les émeutes," the riots that have wracked much of France in recent days, is that the Paris of tourists - the kingdom of the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, L'Opéra and just about every other famous site - remains largely untouched. So far, no center-city businesses or museums are known to have closed because of the rioting, no Métro subway trains have been stoned or hijacked, and taxis remain as plentiful as ever (or as elusive, depending on your outlook). The various French police forces - which report to the national government, not the localities - have evidently been pulled off the central streets and deployed elsewhere. The effect, paradoxically, has been to lower the stress level for the average tourist: With fewer riot cops in view, you're more likely to think about things besides rioting.
The reality - contrary to what foreigners may deduce from television broadcasts of burning cars with the word "Paris" superimposed over them - is that the rioting remains distant from visitors. It has so far been confined to a handful of relatively distant, heavily working-class, immigrant communities. Inside the Périphérique, the highway that rings Paris and serves as an informal city line, life goes on pretty much as normal. That's because in Paris, unlike most big American cities, the rich and the middle-class tend to live in the center of town. The poor are relegated to the "banlieues" - the decrepit bedroom communities at the far ends of commuter rail lines, where tourists rarely go.
Except, perhaps, when they arrive. Charles de Gaulle Airport, the main point for arrivals from overseas, lies about 15 miles northeast of the city. The route from the airport to the center of Paris passes directly through the riot-torn district of Seine-St.-Denis. One of the cheapest ways into the city from de Gaulle is the RER B train (about $10). Service has been disrupted in recent days, and one train was hit by rocks. The United States Embassy in Paris has been advising visitors to avoid the train. (For additional information about buses and trains in Paris, click here.)
But that warning may be overblown. Nearly all flights from North America land during daylight, and so far the rioting has taken place only after dark. (The sun sets around 6 p.m. in Paris these presolstice days.) Another alternative: the Roissybus and Air France buses that go from Charles de Gaulle to various points in the city. And of course, worried travelers can always grab a taxi.
The route by bus and taxi is highway almost the entire journey and considered safe. Once inside the penumbra of tourist hotels, visitors are largely oblivious to trouble - unless they turn on the television. Indeed, the only foreigner known to have been injured so far is a reporter for the Korean broadcaster KBS who was covering riots in the northern suburb of Aubervilliers.
The French seem mortified by the upheaval. Television and radio newscasts devote a surprising amount of space to foreign press coverage. The cautionary statements for travelers issued by the United States and several other governments are especially galling. Since France is perhaps the world's most popular tourist destination, any threat to the visitor flow is by definition a national crisis. Yet the riots are also a serious blow to French national self-esteem - and to the notion of a "French model" of social organization, with high taxes, generous social benefits and a strict secularism that prevents nearly any concession to Islam. Television talk shows, which the French seem to have more of than almost any other developed country, have been given over almost completely to discussion about the rioting. Much of the discourse has centered on a novel topic for France: the possible introduction of "American-style" affirmative action to address the country's ethnic and class divides.
For those still living calmly in central Paris, there are more serious reasons for concern. On Sunday night, several cars were torched in the 17th Arrondissement, just inside the Périphérique. Worse, four vehicles were burned near République, a trendy area of shops and restaurants at the junction of the 3rd, 10th and 11th Arrondissements - well within the Périphérique and only about a mile north of the Centre Georges-Pompidou modern art museum. One potentially troublesome tourist outpost is the Gare du Nord, home of the high-speed Eurostar train to London and Brussels. Though the surrounding area in the 10th Arrondissement has been in the throes of gentrification for years, it remains partly an immigrant neighborhood on the northern outskirts of central Paris.
Darkness is descending over Paris as I write. Somewhere in the distant suburbs, my local traffic officers are facing dangers that won't involve writing parking tickets. In a couple of hours, I must go to the Gare du Nord to meet a nervous visitor arriving on the evening's second-to-last Eurostar from London. Will tonight be the night when the social problems France has been storing up for decades spill over into the center of the republic's capital city? Wish me luck.
Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company
Letter From Paris
For Tourists, a Calmer Paris
By DONALD MORRISON
For a city under siege, Paris, in its center, is oddly pleasant these days. The big department stores throb with shoppers. Strollers throng the Champs-Elysées. Outdoor cafes buzz with people taking advantage of the unseasonably seductive mid-autumn sun.
Police officers are, if anything, less evident than usual. The traffic officers who set up shop on the busy avenue outside my Paris apartment nearly every evening to nab drunken drivers and expired-license holders have failed to materialize lately. It's a great time to be a motorist in central Paris.
Indeed, the thing to know about "les émeutes," the riots that have wracked much of France in recent days, is that the Paris of tourists - the kingdom of the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, L'Opéra and just about every other famous site - remains largely untouched. So far, no center-city businesses or museums are known to have closed because of the rioting, no Métro subway trains have been stoned or hijacked, and taxis remain as plentiful as ever (or as elusive, depending on your outlook). The various French police forces - which report to the national government, not the localities - have evidently been pulled off the central streets and deployed elsewhere. The effect, paradoxically, has been to lower the stress level for the average tourist: With fewer riot cops in view, you're more likely to think about things besides rioting.
The reality - contrary to what foreigners may deduce from television broadcasts of burning cars with the word "Paris" superimposed over them - is that the rioting remains distant from visitors. It has so far been confined to a handful of relatively distant, heavily working-class, immigrant communities. Inside the Périphérique, the highway that rings Paris and serves as an informal city line, life goes on pretty much as normal. That's because in Paris, unlike most big American cities, the rich and the middle-class tend to live in the center of town. The poor are relegated to the "banlieues" - the decrepit bedroom communities at the far ends of commuter rail lines, where tourists rarely go.
Except, perhaps, when they arrive. Charles de Gaulle Airport, the main point for arrivals from overseas, lies about 15 miles northeast of the city. The route from the airport to the center of Paris passes directly through the riot-torn district of Seine-St.-Denis. One of the cheapest ways into the city from de Gaulle is the RER B train (about $10). Service has been disrupted in recent days, and one train was hit by rocks. The United States Embassy in Paris has been advising visitors to avoid the train. (For additional information about buses and trains in Paris, click here.)
But that warning may be overblown. Nearly all flights from North America land during daylight, and so far the rioting has taken place only after dark. (The sun sets around 6 p.m. in Paris these presolstice days.) Another alternative: the Roissybus and Air France buses that go from Charles de Gaulle to various points in the city. And of course, worried travelers can always grab a taxi.
The route by bus and taxi is highway almost the entire journey and considered safe. Once inside the penumbra of tourist hotels, visitors are largely oblivious to trouble - unless they turn on the television. Indeed, the only foreigner known to have been injured so far is a reporter for the Korean broadcaster KBS who was covering riots in the northern suburb of Aubervilliers.
The French seem mortified by the upheaval. Television and radio newscasts devote a surprising amount of space to foreign press coverage. The cautionary statements for travelers issued by the United States and several other governments are especially galling. Since France is perhaps the world's most popular tourist destination, any threat to the visitor flow is by definition a national crisis. Yet the riots are also a serious blow to French national self-esteem - and to the notion of a "French model" of social organization, with high taxes, generous social benefits and a strict secularism that prevents nearly any concession to Islam. Television talk shows, which the French seem to have more of than almost any other developed country, have been given over almost completely to discussion about the rioting. Much of the discourse has centered on a novel topic for France: the possible introduction of "American-style" affirmative action to address the country's ethnic and class divides.
For those still living calmly in central Paris, there are more serious reasons for concern. On Sunday night, several cars were torched in the 17th Arrondissement, just inside the Périphérique. Worse, four vehicles were burned near République, a trendy area of shops and restaurants at the junction of the 3rd, 10th and 11th Arrondissements - well within the Périphérique and only about a mile north of the Centre Georges-Pompidou modern art museum. One potentially troublesome tourist outpost is the Gare du Nord, home of the high-speed Eurostar train to London and Brussels. Though the surrounding area in the 10th Arrondissement has been in the throes of gentrification for years, it remains partly an immigrant neighborhood on the northern outskirts of central Paris.
Darkness is descending over Paris as I write. Somewhere in the distant suburbs, my local traffic officers are facing dangers that won't involve writing parking tickets. In a couple of hours, I must go to the Gare du Nord to meet a nervous visitor arriving on the evening's second-to-last Eurostar from London. Will tonight be the night when the social problems France has been storing up for decades spill over into the center of the republic's capital city? Wish me luck.
Copyright 2005 The New York Times Company
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11:25 PM
