Paris, One Month After the November 2015 Attacks
I arrived in Paris in December 2015, just over a month after the terrorist attacks of November 13. Islamic State militants had struck the Stade de France, cafés and restaurants, and the Bataclan concert hall, killing 130 people, 90 of them at the Bataclan. The year had already brought the Charlie Hebdo massacre in January and, that same week, the murder of four Jewish hostages at the Hyper Cacher kosher supermarket. As the son of Holocaust survivors, I found that especially painful.
One of my cousins, born in Belgium, hid from the Germans as a child during the war. Her mother and my father were both born in Kamyk, a small town in Poland. After the war, her family settled in Paris and stayed. When I arrived, she told me I would see a different side of the city.
She was right. I saw a city in mourning.
The streets around the Bataclan were surprisingly ordinary. Cafés were open. People carried groceries home. Traffic moved through the intersections. There was a hush I don't normally associate with Paris.
At the Bataclan itself, metal barriers remained in place and official notices were attached to the railings. People paused, looked toward the entrance, and moved on. A young woman stopped in front of the barriers. She was frowning, and her sadness brought a tear to my eye. I can still see her face.
Later, I walked to the Place de la République, which had become a vast memorial of love and respect. There were flags from around the world, flowers, handwritten notes, photographs, and a sea of candles, among them yahrzeit candles. Seeing the Jewish memorial candles reminded me of the ones my father lit for my mother, who died when I was three, and for his parents, who perished in the Holocaust. A sign read "True Love True Respect No War." Visitors moved carefully through the displays, making room for one another.