Before I went abroad for a semester, my parents gave me a list of "do not go" countries. It was a damper on my wanderlust but I knew it was within reason. As a 20-year-old female, I faced certain dangers that to some extent I could protect myself from, or so I thought.
I created a set of rules to stay safe: never get too intoxicated, always have a buddy, keep your wallet in front of you at all times. I thought I had covered all my bases and was ready to take on the world.
When I was planning out my 12 weekends in Europe, I crossed out Paris. I had already been with my family and figured I'd go somewhere new. That’s when my Dad said, "If you have the opportunity to go to Paris, go," he smiled an continued, "Paris is always a good idea."
So on October 9, 2015, I boarded the plane and experienced one of the most breathtaking, whimsical, and cultured cities in the world. There is nothing as romantic as seeing the Eiffel Tower sparkle proudly at night. I told my best friend to inform my future husband that this is where I want to get engaged.
Then on November 14, 2015, nearly a month later, France had the biggest attack on them since World War II, claiming the lives of over 100 people.
The city of love was now plagued with death.
A witness who was in the concert hall told CNN said that he saw at least 20 bodies on the floor, with three or four gunmen shooting and reloading.
“I’ve seen two terrorists from my point of view with AK-47s entering the concert room and firing randomly into the crowd,” radio reporter Julien Pearce said. “People yelled and screamed.”
He noted the terrorists reloaded calmly saying nothing.
He continued, “It lasted for 10 minutes. 10 minutes. 10 horrific minutes where everyone was on the floor covering their heads,” he said. “We heard so many gunshots. And the terrorists were very calm… and they reloaded three to four times their weapons. They didn’t shout anything. They didn’t say anything. They were in masks. They were wearing black clothes.”
I was in Switzerland en route to go skydiving when my sorority group text message lit up, tagging sisters who were in Paris that weekend. Because that is what you do when something bad happens, you call the people you love. My fear of jumping out of a plane felt stupid. I put myself in just as much danger skydiving as grabbing a glass of wine at a French café. I hate living in a world where that’s logical.
The day after, a girl with whom my friend is studying abroad, shared her experience of being at the concert where the terrorist attack occurred. She explained how at first, everyone naively thought the shooters were part of the show. She describes the pools of blood that filled the floor, which she had to lie in, waiting for the bullet designed for her. She heard the cries of grown men holding the bodies of their dead girlfriends. She writes about the agony of not knowing if the boy she loves was dead or alive and the fear when she mistook a body on the ground for his.
But she wrote about hope and humanity. She honors the friend who offered her shelter and the clean change of clothes so she didn’t have to wear her blood stained shirt. People like her, light the world when darkness strikes.
Humans are killing humans. Don’t turn this into a political agenda. Don’t forget about the earthquakes in Japan and Mexico, the bombed funeral in Baghdad and the suicide bombing in Beriut. This is everywhere; we just never thought it would happen in the city that harbors such love.
I traveled the world to see its beauty just to watch it crumble beneath me.
