One of the fun things about living in Paris, as opposed to, say, a small town in the Rocky Mountains, is that every once in a while, some big event happens here and you get a chance to see the greats of this world. At Roland Garros, known to Americans as the French Open, you can get close to the world's top tennis players. At the Stade de France or the Parc des Princes, you can occasionally see the world's top football/soccer and rugby players. At the Olympia or La Villette, some of the world's most famous entertainers.
But the bigwigs you see the most are politicians of various stripes and nationalities, accompanied by large police escorts. Usually when someone like the American president comes through, nothing is announced in advance, but there is a flurry of activity on the routes leading into the central city from the airport. Policemen with cordons rouges around their sleeves stand around on street corners chatting to each other while they wait for something to happen. Then a sudden burst of sirens, or lots of loud fast-moving whistles, blown by policemen on the motorcycle escort of the zippy little black French cars that form an official French motorcade. We happen to live not far from one of those routes.
One family member arrived home late tonight after being held up in traffic by such a hubbub. "I wonder if it's Obama!"
[Later: It wasn't the U.S. President. He was actually entertaining the Queen in London then.]
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