The Olympic Games come around every four years. Like most people, I’ve spent all of my life sitting in front of a television screen for two weeks straight relishing in the unadulterated joys of patriotism (or at least this specific kind). Let me say, it doesn’t happen often, but there is nothing quite as electrifying as having the strongest, fastest, and most agile athletes across the globe meeting in one city to battle it out for the gold — it so very easily makes you want to chant your country’s name and don their colors for a few days.
So, when it was confirmed I’d be on the ground in Paris, France for the 2024 Olympic Games, I quite literally bounced around my New York City apartment like the small child I was when I first watched the Olympics. I was particularly excited because I knew these would be historic Games. For one, this is the first cycle after the pandemic that not only pushed the games back a year (to 2021), but also left athletes siloed to avoid infection. Gymnast Suni Lee posed in a Team USA video, trying on their many uniforms, noting how their team didn’t get to experience any of this camaraderie in 2021. This is also the Olympic Games that spent over a billion dollars to clean the Seine River. Mayor Anne Hidalgo went so far to prove this river was clean by swimming in it herself. (It still has not been decided if athletes will compete there. According to Reuters, the decision will be made daily.) The 2024 Olympic Games will surely go down in history for many reasons, but especially because of Team USA's star-filled team — including the fastest man and woman in the world: Noah Lyles and Sha’Carri Richardson. We have Simone Biles and Lebron James, the GOATs of their respective sports, and so many other rising stars ready to claim their medals.
Below are the ins and outs of my days in Paris for the Olympics — from the many scenes around town, to the competitions, and all the people I meet. Follow along for a glimpse inside the 2024 Paris Olympics.
The City Sets The Scene
There’s a quiet premonition floating through the air the day before the 2024 Paris Olympic Games opening ceremony. The city is more barren than usual; my driver Laurent (who was born and raised in Paris) says most Parisians have fled town. He also added that the Opening Ceremony (which will surely leave these streets motionless) will only be the beginning of what the next two weeks will look like in Paris. His advice to me? “Walk everywhere.” It’s the reason I reached my 10,000 step goal before 4 p.m. Central European time. (My mother gasped when I told her my step count, her mind still running on Eastern Standard Time.)
Once you get about a half mile in any direction near the Seine River you’re met with several barricades and closed off streets. Beyond the road closures, it’s almost impossible to ignore the copious amount of armed officers huddled in groups of a dozen at every corner. According to the New York Times, the city has deployed more than 45,000 police officers — about 10 times more than normal — to patrol during the Games. That includes 32 reserve Los Angeles police officers, who are being permitted to carry guns while on the ground in Paris, despite a law barring foreign officers from being armed while in France.
This city is taking on one of the largest, if not the largest, event in the world. The manpower is expected, but it's still overwhelming to see groups of police at every turn.
Things are weird in Paris right now, and the city isn't its typical, bustling self. But it's spirit isn't quite gone. I do think it is quite lovely, beyond the organized chaos slowly entrancing the eighth arrondissement, that two people have asked me if I’m excited to see Celine Dion perform. The answer is: Yes, I am.
Get Ready With Kristy Scott
After checking out the vibe of the city, I head to a hotel where YouTuber Kristy Scott is sitting behind a golden ring light, her Parisian makeup artist and hair stylist welcoming me into her room. Scott, who has garnered over 26 million followers across her social channels, is attending one of the most star-studded events of the week, “The Prelude to the Olympics,” or what I lovingly called all night: “The Vogue party.” This is Scott’s first Olympics, and kick starting it at this party feels surreal. Scott laughs between brushes of concealer being pressed into her lower eyebrow bone: “I want to meet Anna Wintour,” she says.
For Scott, this moment is entirely full circle. Ten years ago she made her first Youtube video and now she’s attending the 2024 Olympics alongside the Youtube team. “I would have never expected that, 10 years later, I would be here at the Olympics,” she says. “I’m able to bring my family and followers along and get them a first look into the experience as an attendee, not just them watching on TV. It feels surreal. When I look back and think about the journey and how I get to be shoulder to shoulder with all these people that I've looked at online for years, it's [wild]. It still feels like a victory moment.”
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Scott wore a sparkling green gown with large barrel curls and a deep side part. She walked the red carpet (which was actually a green makeshift track because #sports) alongside the likes of Lebron James, Serena Williams, and Emma Chamberlain. This full circle moment for her is also a realization of how online creators have shaped and continue to influence our culture.
Nothin’ Like a Vogue Party
I spent two hours on my feet — after already walking several miles around a barricaded Paris — getting within inches of some of our favorite stars. From Zendaya, to Jeremy Allen White, and Sophia Bush, everyone was at the Vogue Prelude Party. Zac Efron brushed past me as he tried to sneak inside without stopping to talk to the press. I can confidently say my shoulder touched Troy Bolton’s (which has teenage Aiyana absolutely reeling, foaming at the mouth), and yet, I could not stop thinking about the umbrella boys in their little uniforms with sunglasses, holding down the perimeter of this party. When they first arrived in groups of four at a time, rain droplets falling from the sky only minutes before the first guests were set to arrive, I knew I’d spend the rest of my time on this carpet (green track) watching their every move.
Most people enjoy the final production, the celebrities posing on the podium-esque stage for the Getty photographers, but as a former theater kid myself, the secondary players on big nights are what catch my eye. And this squad of uniformed boys — all toting white umbrellas for the arriving celebrities — were, for me, the titular role, the absolute star of the show. From their crisp white button downs to the red hats and chunky white sneakers, every detail was fabulous. While I did not secure the fashion credits, this moment, of course, was a walking Louis Vuitton ad. From the looks of it, every piece belonged to cohost of the night and LV creative director Pharrell Williams. He even wore the same sunglasses as he walked the red carpet, giving an almost Tom Ford energy to the function.
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Beyond the umbrella boys, being on a red carpet, you learn just how many celebrities love to actually avoid the moment. Lebron James arrived at exactly 8:58 (one of the early birds) wearing Louis Vuitton. The masses of press shouted his name and he quickly nodded before bypassing everyone. Alongside him were other fan favorites like Efron, tennis superstars Serena Williams and Naomi Osaka, Zendaya, and many more. There’s something to be said about reaching a certain level of fame that results in small crumbs being regarded as loaves of bread. (I say this as someone who has rewatched the six second clip I filmed of Zendaya, strutting quickly and quietly behind me, like it is some sort of trophy.)
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Night one in Paris was illuminating. The star power has entered the closed Parisian quarters and the whispers of a Celine Dion and Lady Gaga performance as thousands of athletes float across the Seine River, grows louder and louder. Today’s chaos is only a pinch of what tomorrow will bring.
Nowhere To Go
It's Opening Ceremony day and I need lunch. I've continued to take my driver's advice and I'm walking absolutely everywhere (a foreign notion as the friend always willing to call an Uber), but at this point it's more out of necessity than anything. Barricades and security are everywhere, and if you're going anywhere near the Seine, a car can't get you there. So, I hiked my way to Le Florentin, a restaurant on the corner of Rue Saint-Honoré. This spot caught my eye because I hadn’t lived out my life-long dream of sitting in a quaint Parisian restaurant, staring out the opened awning onto the passing street. My friend and fellow writer Kerane joined me inside, but she had taken a car so she was dropped off a ways away. The Opening Ceremony is only a few short hours away, and big names like Ariana Grande, Lady Gaga, Celine Dion, and, of course, every important leader from over 200 countries, are all getting ready to be in one place. It’s the kind of high-level security that has you walking with your shoulder blades pinned together, scared to even sneeze too closely to the large men with small hats carrying rifles on every street.
While we sat in this rather desolate area of town, Kerane relayed her tour guide excursion from the day prior, noting that the escort said many local restaurants were complaining about the barricades and blocked streets. “He said that the owners were dealing with customers not wanting to come [to their businesses] because of it.”
On Opening Ceremony day especially, the roads are closed to everyone, unless you have an official Olympic Games accreditation badge. And even then the badge alone isn’t enough. Every police officer I came across (and there are many) asked for my passport, too. Beyond my tourist navigation of the city, many locals had to show and scan a permit letting them into the blocked off spaces.
The most ironic part of the blockades was the security guards — who’d been assigned to the many corners lining the road next to the river — who had absolutely no clue how to help visitors trying to navigate a closed 1st arrondissement. Flustered by the rounds of questions on where to go, what road to take, and how to pass through the gates, by the time I walked up to one, trying to find the quickest way to the Louvre, I was met with an exasperated whine: “Just go that way!”
And that way we went. Kerane and I walked along the barricaded perimeters for about a mile where almost everything near the water was unavailable. If you did want to see the Louvre you would have to have booked a ticket in advance, and there were no same-day options allowed. It was our rookie mistake trying to sightsee the weekend of the Olympics.
It Takes a Village
After flying 11 hours from the West Coast to Paris, Opening Ceremony day is Sandra Kwon's official first of the Olympics. Known on social media as Jeenie Weenie, Kwon has garnered over 22 million followers across YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram. Now, she’s in Paris ready to conquer the once-in-a-lifetime moment that is the Olympic Games — but she can't do it alone. “Two days ago I decided to fly my team in,” she tells me as we sit in the lobby of her hotel. “They just landed in Paris because I was like, ‘I can't do this by myself.’”
Kwon is a skit-based content creator, particularly popular for her flight attendant skits. All of her content is thoroughly planned out, produced, and edited, so pushing out quick content surrounding the Olympic Games is stressful. “We have no time,” she says. “I have to film content today and it's probably going to be posted tomorrow. I just have to be really flexible in what I decide to shoot. I have creative concepts and ideas in mind, but even yesterday, I had a long-form video planned, and it's not gonna happen because of time constraints. Every day [at the Olympics] is gonna look different for me. Today we have the Opening Ceremony and just the chaos of getting there, we'll see how that goes. Because we don't know what's gonna happen. What if we don't even make it inside?” (Readers: she made it to the ceremony.)
But that is a part of the game when serving as a first-person recount of one of the largest events in the world. Everyone will see the dancers, beheaded Marie Antoinettes, and 200 countries floating across the Seine, toting their flags in hand. But not everyone will get to see the barricaded streets leading up to the venue, or the long lines and conversations happening along the perimeters. It’s the reason why content creators have become so important in an online world where young people have this insatiable hunger for even the most minute of details.
“Even at the Olympics, we’re going to show you something that you'll never see on TV. A lot of people love to see that part because it really feels like they're there with you,” Kwon says. It’s the reason why celebrities and content creators are slowly merging into the same stratosphere, making their way into the same events and spaces once only upheld for actors, athletes, and artists.
“We show the real side, this idea that ‘I'm a person,’” Kwon says. “I may go to the Olympics, but look at the craziness I experienced to get there. I’m just like everyone else. I have to go through the crowds and get on the metro and walk through the rain just to try to make it to the Olympics. It's going to be very interesting in the next couple of years to see what's going to happen because I feel like more people are watching content creators who are being real and true to themselves, and showing what it's really like — versus having the polished version for the world to see because no one is polished.”
Let the Games Begin
Irony, truly, is the pivotal piece of today’s puzzle. I sat in the hotel lobby waiting for Meghan, the YouTube PR lead, and Charlotte, EIC of Bustle, to begin our journey to the historic Opening Ceremony. This lobby looks straight out of a Haunted Mansion sequel with red carpet and chairs lining the room alongside a slew of old Renaissance paintings of particularly stoic and harrowing women. I’m not sure if the front desk concierge thought it would be on par, but “Singin’ in the Rain” (the remastered version) by Gene Kelly played as I swiped through Twitter (begrudgingly now known as X) anticipating what will be a famed evening. It had been drizzling all day and only time would tell if the weather would hold up. This would be a historic Opening Ceremony, the first of its kind held outside along a river, and not at a stadium.
Our commute from the 8th arrondissement to the Musée d'Orsay area was rather smooth. As someone who's spent almost 20 years of my life attending American football games, I expected more noise and commotion on our train ride and walk over. It was oddly silent, passengers stepping into the train wearing gear and face stickers, politely walking up like this were a leisurely Sunday visit to our regular brunch spot. Americans approach large sporting events with such disordinance that the lack of excitement made me question if we were even headed in the right direction. The many assistants lining the road carrying large poles with NBC and the Olympic rings on them, pointing us forward, confirmed we were in fact going the right way.
That calm shifted once we found ourselves right up on our gate (F2) which was uncomfortably close to gate F1, shortly proving to cause an absurd amount of confusion. Several language barriers separated the many waiting attendees, but the need to confirm this 800-person line was solely for F2 section ticket holders is what kept the crowd noise at a level we hadn’t seen our entire commute here. We arrived at our designated line around 5 p.m. The suggested timeframe to get to the ceremony was anywhere between 3:30 and 5 p.m. (although they strongly suggested 3:30.), but we cut it close and made it inside the venue at 7:24 p.m. (A smooth six minutes before the live show was set to begin.)
The lady in front of us said her cousin was in another section and she arrived at 3:30 p.m. She made it inside of the ceremony at 6:30 p.m. The slow journey getting inside was allegedly from a rough beginning for staffers running the entrance with stalled queues and ticketing problems.
Still, live television waits for no one, so it made sense why the line sped up around 6:45 p.m. My group slid through security, the guards only haphazardly plucking through my oversized shoulder bag. (Not a single water bottle inside of it was forced to be thrown away. An oddly pleasant surprise.) Our ticket lady was taking a phone call as she absentmindedly scanned us in, almost forgetting entirely to tap my ticket on Meghan’s phone. Whatever it takes to get the hundreds of people behind us into this venue within the next 15 minutes, I suppose.
Once inside I was met with Phrygian-galore. “Phryge,” the official Paris 2024 Olympic mascot was everywhere. He was on top of heads, on shoulders in tote bag form, and hanging from fingertips as a freakishly adorable stuffed animal.
I received so many texts from friends on my whereabouts, only to disappoint them with the answer: “Can you see Lady Gaga?” Only from the screen in front of me. We were right in the center of the procession, with the main performances happening at the end of the parade near the Eiffel Tower. “What boats have passed you?” When the announcer welcomed a new country, their boat sailed past us roughly 30 minutes later. Six kilometers, in theory, seemed relatively like a short distance via boat, but I was proven gravely incorrect.
Beyond the performances that struck me (Aya Nakumara, you will always be famous), the faceless ninja —or knight? — doing parkour around Paris, and the love triangle seen across the globe, I found myself swarmed by a camaraderie I’ve never felt before. As someone who spent seven years of my life playing team sports and doing community theater, there was something otherworldly lingering throughout the venue. As a Gen Z-er, nonchalance has taken over every fiber of my being. Nothing is ever that big of a deal when you’ve experienced an unprecedented amount of firsts on this planet. But as the dancers splashed through the raging water and onlookers waved ferociously at the boats sailing past, I found myself tenderly staring onward, throwing my arm in the sky, waving at these Olympians, too. I knew the Olympics brought out an extreme level of patriotism, but the extent to which my pride for people I did not know exploded felt unfamiliar. I now see why this billion-dollar project is put on come hell or high water. For one small moment, everyone is unified in ways we don’t often experience. It’s undeniably beautiful and worth every challenge.
That feeling fizzled slightly, though, as the night went on. The rain came every hour, and then every half hour, only to stay for the remainder of the evening in what felt like a reminder that we were at the whims of the earth; not even the biggest global event could stop Mother Nature from showing her brute force. My squad and I were forced to find cover somehow. (Ponchos weren’t being sold at the venue and Meghan had no luck finding any around town.) We laughed, thinking about how “entrepreneurial” New Yorkers were, and how we would’ve had at least five poncho sellers in our ears, trying to cash in on our misfortune. We landed on the overpriced “Phyrge” cushioned hat that would sit as a reminder of the poor-weathered ceremony and chaotic memorabilia of an unforgettable Olympic cycle.
By the time we hit the “L” countries in our list of 200, we were fully drenched in rain, the makeup once set on my face was now dripping into my red, white, and blue dress. We ran for cover underneath the nearest bridge, now huddled up between 50 other onlookers who hadn’t secured an umbrella or poncho before arriving. My bookish brain immediately understood how Suzanne Collins envisioned the Hunger Games series. Commoners cheer loudly as athlete after athlete waves heroically from their boat — the crowd waddles in the pouring rain. Those who splurged on their tickets sit pristinely inside the motionless boats lining the river, their clothes still dry, energy levels still high. Policemen in groups of four walk by the fading crowd, rifles pressed diagonally across their chests — a reminder to stay in line.
Those who lacked unyielding determination or those who had a waning immune system began to head toward the exit in slow stalks. The United States, Australia, and France were still several names away, and yet the crowd chose to escape from the growing rainy winds pressing into their patriotic bodies. If not for Celine Dion’s triumphant performance, I think more would’ve crept toward the exit. This was historic, the first of its kind, and all I could think about were the hundreds of people who’d probably wake up with the common cold tomorrow after spending four hours in the pouring rain. Would it all be worth it? Would the words: unity, strength, and peace be the lasting impression of the night? Or would we be dreaming of a return to the stadium in 2028?
Gloomy Day and My Favorite Sports Games
It was the day after the Opening Ceremony and all over town the rain kept me hidden inside. I spent my morning relishing in the kookiness of my hotel, Maison Athénée. I sat around writing and peeking out my window at one of the most gorgeous cities in the world. And while I initially wanted to spend my morning stomping through the streets of Paris, I took the rain as a reminder that it's okay to slow down.
After my leisurely morning, I finally left my room in the afternoon, braving the drizzle that remained after the earlier deluge. Charlotte, Meghan, and I headed over to La Défense Arena for tonight’s swimming events. (Public transit in Paris has been a saving grace and the experience has been so smooth — a stark difference from the MTA in New York City.) Swimming, unbeknownst to me, is a very popular sport and became a “high demand” event. What that means for me, someone with a press pass, is that I had to have requested a ticket in advance. Luckily for me, Meghan purchased a (very expensive) extra ticket the day prior and I was able to get into what clearly was going to be an important set of matches. And I am glad I was able to go because American swimmer Gretchen Walsh broke the Olympic record in the women's 100m butterfly semifinals with a time of 55.38 seconds. Walsh challenged her own world record time of 55.18.
There was something very special about experiencing this event in person. I had chills sitting in the crowd, hovering over these athletes in the pool. Spectators cheering, rippling their American, French, and Japanese flags in the air, rallying behind these athletes. It's emotional and, in many ways, shows the community so many of us are chasing. It’s not everyday you find yourself in a room with people different from you, all celebrating one common goal. There’s no separation in this arena. Everyone has one mission: cheer on their team.
After relishing in the magic of swimming, I snuck out of the arena and made my commute to one of the most anticipated stadiums of the Games. I’d been dreaming of the beach volleyball stadium from the moment I learned it would be at the Eiffel Tower. While I saw it from far away, the last time I was in Paris I didn’t get to go near the tower, so my one and only goal this trip was to make it there — and the task turned out to be more difficult than I'd imagined. The train was splendid, but once I made it out onto the street I was thrown in circles. This was a mixture of lack of information and potentially a language barrier, but absolutely no one — from security to police officers to staffers — knew what entrance media were supposed to go through. So, I ended up at the main entrance for spectators, got all the way inside only to be told I couldn’t enter through that gate because it was for ticket holders. The media entrance was about a mile back in the direction I came from. I wanted to be mad, but maybe it was because of how close the Eiffel Tower was sparkling behind me that I decided to be grateful. I wasn't where I needed to be, but because I came to the wrong part of the stadium, I now stood directly underneath the one thing I was hoping to see up close. Forget the naysayers, the tower is absolutely magical. Before I began my trek back to the other side of the stadium, I stood there, taking in the feeling.
Because of the misdirection and because of the hordes of people trying to get as close to the tower as possible (remember all that security I told you about?), I missed the women’s Team USA game. I still was able to catch the men’s Italy vs. Qatar game, which was just as exciting. Every crowd I’ve experienced, as expected, has been filled with the most exhilarating group of people. I’d hit over 10,000 steps by the start of this game and I didn’t leave my hotel room until 5 p.m. It was freezing cold after raining all the day. I was wearing a spaghetti strapped dress with no jacket. Every stadium seat and metal staircase I touched was covered in puddled water. And yet, I didn’t want to leave. I could’ve gone home, but everything in me wanted to stay. It's how special these arenas are. I had no attachment to either team on this sand court, but I was rooting for both, leaning into the crowds as they cheered and screamed for Qatar and then chanted “Italia” over and over again. The club classic “I Got a Feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas began to play between sets and the crowd sang along, giving it their best vocals. It warmed the deepest part of my heart, letting me forget just how cold externally I felt.
Beyond the energy, the view speaks for itself. I don’t even know if my pictures will do it justice, but watching one of my favorite sports set behind a sparkling Eiffel Tower will go down as one the greatest things I will lay eyes on. (Sorry to my future kids, you probably will not be able to compete). The press area of the stadium was also the perfect spot to get the players and tower directly behind you, so beyond watching the game, I spent a lot of time watching people, staring at all the spectators walking up swiftly to get a few pictures.
Ending the night at beach volleyball gave me another level of appreciation for those who help these large productions happen. Enter: the official Olympic beach volleyball sand rakers. Like the umbrella boys from the Vogue party, I would do absolutely anything for these men and women, so much so that I spent an hour post-game Googling how to become one of them. Yes, the game was incredibly fun to watch, but the moment the music began to blare and the athletes ran to their benches I knew I was in for a little treat. They had maybe 45 seconds each time to rake the sand back into place, but before they could exit, they had a routine to follow. They raked in a set rotation, then ran off the court, stood in a line, looked at one another and then jogged back off to their corners of the court. I was wildly obsessed with their work and think they deserve the world. Day three was magical, for many reasons. The rain could not ruin taking part in the largest sporting event in the world. It reminded me that, sometimes, beauty trumps trouble.
In The Room Where It Happens
The last day is always the most beautiful and this rang true for my time at the Olympics. The weather outside was gorgeous, neither too hot nor cold, and the sun beamed across the city on my last morning. While I was reveling in the weather, I couldn’t help but be sad for the Opening Ceremony. If it would've been like this during the four hour show, I think it would’ve drastically changed my initial reaction to it. But alas, we mustn’t be stuck in what-ifs — we're at the Olympics.
I started off my day going to one of the events I’d always wanted to experience: women’s gymnastics. I’d seen many meets on my television over the years, but I truly wanted to understand what it was like to witness it in person. Getting to see our cover star Jordan Chiles and legendary athlete Simone Biles with my own two eyes was worth the trek out to the Bercy Arena, even though I was set to be on a plane in a few hours. I arrived an hour before Team USA was set to compete because I didn’t want to miss a moment of the action. My early arrival was worth it because on my walk in I saw Hezly Rivera’s father (Team USA gymnast and one of the youngest athletes competing this year) taking a photo of Suni Lee’s sisters and family in front of the olympic rings placed right before the entrance of the arena. Once inside and up the escalator I saw Simone Biles’ grandmother chatting with a friend about what seat they were in. I was surrounded by Team USA’s support system, the people who helped them get to where they were going. They’re a small community, understanding each other's struggles and hurdles in ways families of non-Olympic-level athletes can comprehend.
As if watching this powerhouse team in person weren't enough, things got even more exciting when former Olympian Shawn Johnson sat two seats over from me in the press area. Beyond being just plain cool, this proved beneficial when, after watching Chiles' incredible performance, she explained the gymnastics two-person rule to me. Though Chiles made the top 24 and would've qualified to compete for the all around title, this rule prevented her from advancing. My understanding is that, basically, the higher-ups are attempting to keep the podium from being all from one country, and Biles and Lee scored higher than Chiles. They will advance from the US, even though if the rule weren't in place Chiles would join them.
And while the difficult parts of the game are hard to witness, the energy inside Bercy Arena was so ferocious I swore you could hear the crowd yelling for Team USA from down the street. When any of the Team USA athletes did so much as a leap on an apparatus the crowd went wild. When they would defy gravity on a four-inch beam the crowd fell silent, gasping if they stumbled but then cheering them on when they saved themselves from falling. The most shocking part as a spectator was realizing that all of this is happening at the same time. The level of focus you need to be a gymnast is something I hadn't factored in while watching at home. China is on vault, while Team USA is on beam, Germany is on floor, and Italy is on uneven bars. It all happens at the same time. So while NBC might be focused on Team USA, the floor music is still blaring along, the crowd watching the many athletes flying into the air in all corners of the room.
Beyond the Games, it was really interesting to see the amount of star power in the room. From Snoop Dogg sitting with Chiles’ parents, to Wicked Stars Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo, Lady Gaga, and Nick Jonas, (amongst others) made their way to the arena to see these women compete. It made me wonder if watching other superstars and not being the main focus is exciting for them. Yes, Ariana Grande is here, but right now all eyes are on the greatest of all time, Simone Biles.
House Hopper
I spent my last few hours taking in the team houses, places, I learned, that were initially created to be a space for friends and family of athletes to come relax and watch the game. But this year, several of these houses have opened their doors to the public. We started off at Team USA’s house hosted at Palais Brongniart, which if you have not seen this building, add it to your list next time you're in Paris. While I didn’t see them while there, Team USA athletes were expected to make appearances, have medal celebrations, and host chats with current and former athletes at the house. There’s also food and, of course, shopping of the Ralph Lauren collection. (You know, the one Beyonce wore on Instagram that almost had me convinced I needed a $1,300 jacket. Key world: almost).
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the Team Canada house, where tickets were only 30 euros (compared to the 325 euro USA house), so if you’re Canadian or want to be a fake one for the day, its definitely worth it. I tried poutine for the first time, and the guests around me and my group kept emphasizing that this was, in fact, “French poutine” (they so clearly wanted us to know that this wasn’t their main attraction). While our poutine had cheese, it was shredded and Canadian poutine has cheese curds. The way onlookers spoke of these cheese curds, I was convinced I needed to book a flight right then and there to find out what the hype was about. Luckily for us, one of the Team Canada house official sponsors is Air Canada and you can in fact book or change your flight while there. It was neat getting to see the team pride of another country, especially after seeing the powerhouse system that is Team USA. Youtube creator Jeenie Weenie (and a certified Canadian) tagged along on our Team Canada house tour and the creator was in her element. We ran into judo athlete Shady Elnahas, who happened to be leaving his signature on the giant wall poster of himself in the house. And then we watched the crowd play a special game of “Cheerio Stack,” which I was convinced was some popular Canadian game I wasn't tapped into yet (not the case). The Canadian strength must’ve been strong because Jeenie ended up winning. We cheered her on while the crowd shouted “Cheerio off.” We ended my last day at Club France, the largest house of them all that felt like a miniature music festival.
After being out all day, I raced to the airport, slid through customs and boarded my flight, wishing I could turn back time. I played volleyball in middle school and high school, and I play recreationally as an adult. I knew I didn't want to commit my life to the sport in the way I needed to compete at the highest level, but I used to laugh and say I want to go to the Olympics one day for volleyball. That dream, of course, never came true. But to go to the Olympics now as a writer feels full circle in so many different ways. The Olympics are special, Paris is not overrated, and these athletes are chasing their dreams in ways not many ever will. It’s inspiring and makes you want to fight for everything you want, no matter how impossible it may seem. These days at the Olympics were life-changing and something I’ll most definitely talk about forever. (Sorry to anyone who comes in contact with me for the rest of time.)
Xoxo,
Aiyana
