It has been exactly 5 years since I first experienced New Year’s Eve in Paris. It was December 31, 2019; we were packed like sardines, tens of thousands of people crammed together, only to find out shortly after that something global had hit us: the coronavirus pandemic. You can read about that experience here.
I chose Paris again for New Year’s Eve because I wanted a big, lively city during the holidays. I didn’t want to get bored…
NEW YEAR’S EVE
9:10 PM. After big efforts to put on some mascara and eyeliner, at least for New Year’s, I leave the hotel and stroll toward Place de la Concorde. From there, it’s easy to reach the Champs-Élysées, the hot spot of New Year’s Eve night. I tell myself I have all the time in the world.
The streets are packed. The restaurants I pass by are full! Relaxed, cheerful, and noisy people everywhere.
Traffic is already stopped, so most of us are walking on the road, enjoying the space.
Believe it or not, no one is setting off firecrackers – you can walk peacefully without your heart jumping out of your chest.
At Place de la Concorde, hundreds of people are gathered in the area where, I assume, you can enter the Champs-Élysées. I observe how that man up high is filming. He’s probably the furthest cameraman from the Arc de Triomphe, where some artistic performances are taking place – I don’t know what yet, as I can neither hear nor see anything. After all, I’m still 2.5 kilometers away from the Arc.
I try to get into the crowd, which is tightly packed against some barriers. No chance! And nothing seems to be moving either. I move a bit further and try again to get through. Nothing. In the distance, I see 2-3 people having their bags checked, a sign that there is indeed an access point there. It looks like the whole city has crowded into that spot! I think to myself that midnight might find us stuck here…
I come across a van with gendarmes. I start a conversation with them, asking if there are other ways to get in. “There are, but they’re just as crowded”. I decide to try my luck elsewhere. There’s no way I’ll make it if I stay put.
So I head along the Seine. Others are doing the same, so we become a wave of people briskly moving toward another entrance.
Wait a second! I see a big line. Kind of like the morning line for pretzels back home.
False alarm: it’s not an entrance, just a queue for the toilets. What can you do? Nature calls.
And we keep going, and going… Past the police and gendarmes, we even pass ambulances on the way.
On my left, I admire the Eiffel Tower in the distance; I pass the Grand Palais, surrounded by fences and guarded by gendarmes to prevent anyone from getting through here.
It smells like fried food. On the side of the road, in two minivans, some immigrants are cooking sausages, hot dogs, and other strongly scented stuff. No one is buying. We’re all in a hurry to get… somewhere.
Finally, we see a crowd of people. Yes! This must definitely be an access point.
It’s nothing like the one at Place de la Concorde, so I join in. I’m lucky to find a lane where the line is moving faster. The gendarmes are checking every bag.
In front of me, there’s a couple of men – both dressed elegantly for New Year’s Eve. Their disappointment is clear when they find out their large bottle of champagne, glasses included, has to stay behind. No alcohol is allowed!
I remember that, five years ago, alcohol was allowed, but only if poured into a cardboard or plastic cup. Now, nothing at all! “Alcohol-free zone”…
Finally, I’m in!!!
Well, it’s still a long way to go because, from where I am, I know there’s still some distance to Champs-Élysées.
I barely walk 50 steps before I come across a loooong line, so long I can’t even see the end of it!
I bypass the loooong line by taking the sidewalk, along with other hurried people who seem to know the better way. We all end up in a small crowd, squeezed against each other, waiting for our turn at yet another checkpoint!
The gendarmes keep shouting in French for us to make way for the elderly and families with small children. We shuffle forward a few centimeters at a time, careful not to lose our precious spot near the barrier.
And again, they ask us to make way, and again, we move slightly. I encourage a family with a child to move ahead, realizing they didn’t understand the French instructions. They’re happy to skip the wait.
“There’s no point standing here!” – a gendarme hits us with the news. “This entrance is ONLY for the elderly and those with small children!” Oh no, and here I was thinking we were just giving them priority.
I try to get out, packed like a sardine in the can I got myself into, to figure out where on earth I’m supposed to go. If it’s that loooong line, I’d have to walk half a kilometer back! And 2025 will definitely find me here. On top of that, I see a balloon hovering above the line:
I relax, thinking this isn’t the line I need to join. But still… seriously, how many reservations could there possibly be for the restaurants on Champs-Élysées?!? How many residents could be in this massive line just to get home? Hm, something doesn’t add up. Before I can figure it out, I find myself being pushed by a group of Arabs toward some gendarmes.
“Women to the women’s line!” one of them stops me and points me in the right direction, a sign that I’ve accidentally ended up at the front, at the checkpoint!
I head over to the female officers, go through a body check, then my backpack is checked again and… YUHUUUU, I MADE IT!!!
I’m right on Champs-Élysées! Far from the Arc de Triomphe, but who cares!
It’s 10:05 PM. Wow, I got here so quickly, I’m awesome!!! Actually, it was more out of ignorance and a bit of luck that I got here. Because I still think that long loooong line wasn’t for residents or reservations but for people like me, here to just take it all in.
On a large screen, I can see what’s happening on the stage in front of the Arc. Great joy, some of their own artists sing (I didn’t recognize any of them).
I move forward easily because it’s not too crowded here yet; you can still breathe.
At the cafes and bakeries, there are massive lines! Wow, these people must make a fortune in just a few hours!!!
Me, I’m happy with the good (and expensive) chocolate I have in my backpack, purchased during my first hours in Paris. I couldn’t have spent money on a museum 🙂
Others seem satisfied with some… weed, judging by the smell in certain areas.
A few Asians are wandering around selling flowers, hoping to find gentlemen eager to impress their ladies with a small romantic gesture on New Year’s Eve.
Whoever has caught the free piece of curb, don’t let it go. It’s a precious spot, because otherwise, your back starts to hurt. Or your legs.
Slowly but surely, the road fills up with people. You can no longer stay on the edge, because you risk not being able to join the crowd and see anything. So, I join in, even though the New Year hasn’t arrived in Romania yet!
I’m a few hundred meters away from the Arc, and whether I look ahead or behind, I see people as far as the eye can see!
Since I’m positioned on a section between two screens, I can hardly hear anything. Basically, they only covered the Champs-Élysées with 4 screens and their corresponding speakers. So, if you’re between the areas where the monitors are placed, that’s it, you can vaguely see something on the screen, stare at what “clothes” the Arc de Triomphe is wearing, or simply ignore everything and enjoy the moment with the group you came with. Whoever came…
From time to time, an occasional firework pops up above the Arc, and we all raise our phones to film, thinking that the New Year has arrived.
False alarm. I know best, since I’ve been keeping an eye on the clock, silently living through the transition to 2025 according to Romania’s time…
I notice that no one is drunk; we’re all damn wide awake. Well, if you’re not allowed alcohol, you experience New Year’s sober. Even so, people are having fun.
Some women speaking a Slavic language start singing songs from their national folklore, and they even do a hora dance, much to the despair of a few French girls who threaten to start singing the Marseillaise themselves 🙂
It’s clear that we’ve all kind of lost our patience, so each person entertains themselves as best as they can. Or gets angry, because a few cheeky people are trying to elbow their way to the front at the last moment, even though there’s no room to throw a pin!
At another false alarm, when we all raise our phones to film, two girls, desperate because they can’t see anything and can’t convince anyone to lower their hands, throw out a joke that amuses our entire area: “Pickpockets, now is the time to act!” 🙂
12 MIDNIGHT
And here it is, midnight!!! I barely saw the numbers projected on the Arc, heard numbers shouted in different languages and… hooray, Happy New Year, 2025!!!
We all kept our eyes on the fireworks. Or, more precisely, on the phone filming the fireworks, most of us. (I tried to combine both…)
Beautiful, I won’t say otherwise, but they didn’t blow me away. I mean, for such a huge city like Paris, I had higher expectations, I admit.
At 00:10, the fireworks were over! Boom boom. Smoke and commotion.
People still stay on the Champs-Élysées, but in total chaos: some are heading closer to the Arc to take pictures, others go down toward Concorde, some meet their lost friends, a team from an Arab TV station tries to catch their people to ask for their impressions; many couples are taking selfies while kissing, a group leader opens a bottle of champagne – how on earth did God let it pass through the filters?!?
I take pictures with the ‘2025’ and ‘Paris’ projections on the Arc, so I have proof that I was here, in case I get drunk later and forget…
At 00:20, a kind voice announces through all available speakers, repeatedly, that we need to leave, there’s no reason to stay here. Traffic is about to reopen.
Yes, yes, it’s true, I lived through this five years ago as well: with great speed, they gathered everything that was on the road after we, the curious bystanders, cleared it, and soon after, traffic resumed as if it were daytime!
They’ll do the same now, for sure. They just need to rush us out of the area faster.
I head downhill. I come across empty cans, trash, food containers, tissues packets, lost gloves. Couldn’t I find a million euros instead, damn it…
Knowing the subway would be open tonight, after walking endless kilometers all day, I decide to take it for 2 stops. But… what do you know: it’s not open. People, however, are coming and sitting here, waiting for the gates to open.
I ask some French people if they know how long it will take. They don’t know. Online it says it will open at 2:15 AM. What??? It’s only 00:40, so I give up and decide to walk. Still, I’m lucky compared to others: in about 2 kilometers, I’m at the hotel.
I walk like a robot…
Near Place de la Concorde, I stop and take another look at the Champs-Élysées. The huge crowd of people is impressive!
Although I’m not at all a fan of these… gatherings with complications (long walks, controls, crowds, lack of visibility, etc. etc.), I have to admit that there’s a unique energy in something like this. And I tried to soak it in.
But, to be honest, I don’t think I’d repeat this experience for a third time here.
Ok, I’m going to my room to finish a 0.33 bottle of champagne (because yes, they even invented such a thing for people like me). I’ll drown my sorrow because, guess what, I forgot to wear red underwear on New Year’s Eve. Ugh, how am I supposed to have good luck now?…
For anyone who hasn’t read it, here I wrote about how it was in Paris for New Year’s Eve 2020, before the pandemic hit us.
