Living in a foreign country is a unique experience in and of itself, but living in a foreign country during several major terrorist attacks is another story.
I am currently a student at BYU studying French and global business. I’m here in Paris working as an accounting intern for a fashion company for my fall semester. I had done a study abroad in Paris two years ago, so I knew the city well coming back a second time. This time, I expected to live as a true Parisian rather than an American tourist.
Little did I know, I would get way more than I bargained for.
On Friday, Nov. 13, I finished my internship as usual around 5 p.m. I headed home to pack for my flight to Ireland that evening, set to leave at 10:30 p.m. Walking on my usual route, I was blindly unaware of the fact that in just a few hours, this city would be filled with fear and brutality.
My three friends and I had bought our plane tickets to Ireland through RyanAir, which departs from a small airport about an hour and a half outside the city. I made sure to leave my apartment by 6:30 p.m. in order to make it in time. My friends and I arrived at the airport without problems. All three of us have a basic French cell phone that allows us to make calls and send texts, but only within France. This does not include data. So, if we ever need the internet, we have to be connected to wifi.
We began boarding our plane around 9:40 p.m., just 20 minutes after the first attack occurred in Paris. Unfortunately, we had absolutely no knowledge of the events that were occurring. It seemed that none of the other passengers did either.
Around 11:50 that night, the pilot announced that we would be landing in 30 minutes. 50 minutes rolled by before I realized how long it had been since the pilot’s announcement. We descended around 12:50 a.m. Everyone grabbed their bags and filed out. However, just as the majority had gotten off the plane, security came racing out, forcing us all back onboard for questioning.
Once my friends and I got back on the plane, a man informed us of “a couple small shootings” in the 10th and 11th arrondissement in Paris.Then he said, “They think it was ISIS.” I was shocked; everyone around me started to look so timid and scared.
The woman working on the plane looked at our passports. Then, they asked each of us several questions: “What is your name?” “Why have you come to Ireland this evening?” “Why were you in Paris?”
We got into the Dublin airport and quickly searched for wifi to connect to. As my phone connected, I received 156 text messages from concerned family members and friends. Frankly, I didn’t even know that I had that many contacts in my phone. As soon as I connected to the wifi, I received a FaceTime call from my aunt and uncle. I answered––still not fully aware of the extent of the attacks or the severity of the situation.
They frantically asked if I was safe, and informed me of what had occurred. My heart dropped. I immediately thought of my friends and coworkers in Paris living through this horrifying experience. I was completely stunned and had millions of emotions running through me. I contacted my family immediately, to find each of them in hysterics––For hours, they didn’t know if I was even alive. I was becoming increasingly aware of the severity of the situation, and I had never been more terrified.
We went through customs, where employees asked us similar questions to the ones we were asked by the woman on the plane. This time, however, they were documenting our answers. Although we were miles away from Paris, I could still feel the sheer panic and concern of those around me.
When we arrived at our hotel, we sat and contacted everyone who was concerned about us. As we were reading all the articles we could find and watching raw footage from the attacks, our overwhelming sense of panic was obvious. We soon realized that we were the last plane to depart from Paris that evening. The reason we landed so late was because the plane had to circle Dublin until it was deemed safe to land.
As we learned more information about the situation, our fears grew. In my life, I have never been more relieved than I was when I saw each of my friends in Paris mark themselves “safe from the terrorist attacks” on Facebook. The feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed each of us as we thought about the future violence that would come out of these attacks.
We didn’t sleep much that night, and when we did, all four of us had nightmares about the attacks. The next day, we decided to go into Dublin for some sightseeing, in an attempt to take our minds off of what had happened. As we walked through the city center, a larger crowd of people passed us with French flags in their hands and wrapped around their bodies like blankets.
There were thousands of them, so we decided to join the march. We followed the people to an Irish government building in the city center. There, we had a moment of silence that was followed by the singing of the French national anthem by the whole crowd. The feeling of unity and compassion overcame me, and I started to cry with the thousands around me. For the first time, I felt peaceful.
For days, we read article after article, sick to our stomachs and wondering if we would even be able to return to Paris. We spent the majority of our time on our phones, responding to concerned friends and family. The attacks had occurred in places that I often go to––All I could think about was where I would have been if I hadn’t been in Ireland for the weekend.
As our trip ended and we returned to Paris, I felt terrified to see what I was coming back to. I took the metro to my apartment and have never felt so uneasy. People around me seemed quiet and somber, and the metros and streets felt empty.
About a week has passed since the attacks, and I am trying to find a balance between living in fear and being aware of my surroundings. It’s comforting to see global support for Paris. At the same time, I fear those who want to fight extremism with extremism. I pray that we can fight terrorism with caution, and not let the fear take over our lives.
Photo credit: la tour eiffel via photopin (license)