The day before we left for Paris, there were three terrorist attacks reported worldwide; one in Tunisia, one in Kuwait and the other in Lyon, France which happens to be the second stop on this European trip.
Before boarding the plane, a flight attendant announced that it would be a full flight. A brief montage of video clips from the news of flights gone wrong passed through my mind. I stepped into the jetway wondering if the flight would make it to its destination yet I did it anyway.
Ten hours and two take-offs later, we landed safely in Paris.
As we tour around, I have an awareness which I admit that I never had before. One which has me always looking at those around me and making sure that nobody gets too close. Admittedly I am looking not just for a terrorist - whatever that looks like - but also for the pickpocket or his more violent cousin the mugger.
Today's tourist destination? The Eiffel Tower. As we rounded the corner and the monument came into view, I was overcome with joy. It was exciting, seeing something so significant in person after seeing it so many millions of times on tv and in pictures. It was overwhelming standing beneath it and looking up through it to the blue of the sky. It was incredible and simultaneously unnerving noticing the sheer volume of people streaming around me.
To enter the toilette, one had to reveal the contents of ones purse - for me, a backpack - before permission was granted from the security guard on duty. This experience was a double-edged sword. One that made me feel like I was ok in the underground ladies rooms but also made me feel more vulnerable when I returned to the open courtyard above.
My fear of heights and aversion to waiting more than two hours in extreme heat while strangers pressed against me was enough to have me just stroll through the area with my feet planted firmly on the ground.
As we rode the very crowded subway back to our Paris base, I asked myself the big "what if" question; "what if there were a terrorist on the subway?" I have to admit that while it crosses my mind and even while I look at the people around me, it feels more like a game that I am playing. In these moments I am not filled with fear so much as I am filled with a curiosity about myself and the people I live in the world with.
We make it safely back, as odds would predict, and I spend an enjoyable time preparing the first meal I have cooked in days. With a full belly I wonder...did the terrorists win because they have influenced the way that I think as I move through the world or have I for knowing they exist yet travelling anyway?
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