Here’s how — and where — my adventure unfolded.
My plan was simple: I’d follow the route of the parade of boats along the Seine and finish as close as I could to the Eiffel Tower. I even drew a map in my notebook in case my phone ran out of battery. (It didn’t!).
At 1 p.m., more than six hours before the ceremony started, I left my hotel wearing my favorite comfy sneakers and carrying a bag that included a laptop, raincoat, rain hat, water bottle, notebooks, camera, selfie stick and mini Kit Kats.
I took the Metro to the Trocadéro to scout out the finish area but couldn’t get close because of the security perimeter. So I walked to the Louvre, rented a bike and rode back to the start to begin the journey for real.
It was drizzling a little, something the French call crachin. “Good thing I brought rain gear,” I thought.
The first thing I noticed were fences everywhere, cars almost nowhere, and huge lines of people.
Police at the first checkpoint were thorough and even asked me to take a sip of my water. After arson attacks on the French rail system earlier in the day, security was understandably tight.
Just before crossing into the secure perimeter, I stopped to get a brick a l’oeuf, a Tunisian egg-and-bread dish, then headed toward the start. There was so much to see!
One thing I didn’t see was a hole in front of me. I stepped in it and (lightly) sprained my ankle.
I kept going, gingerly, past people clumped around giant screens. Everyone was friendly, and as I chatted with a reporter from Argentina, music suddenly blasted out of the speakers near me. I saw the very top of the explosion of red, white and blue smoke from the Austerlitz Bridge.
I went back outside the security perimeter, rented another bike, and pedaled toward where the river came back together. I tried to get back through a checkpoint.
The security officers, in an extremely nice way, said non. Several times.
I texted my editor: “I got out and it’s impossible to get in again. And it’s raining.”
She told me to suck it up.
But I found what seemed to be a good spot to get a peek at the boats.
By this point, I’d been out for hours, and the ceremony was not even half finished. I made an important discovery: The port-a-potties are surprisingly clean! And there are no lines!
Next, I stopped in the Jardin des Tuileries. The egg brick was long burned off, and the Kit Kats weren’t cutting it. I asked for pizza. Sold out. But they had lager!
Festive and wet spectators cheered as the Palestinian athletes went by, then sang along to “Lady (Hear Me Tonight)” by French duo Modjo.
As I was sending an update, a raindrop hit my phone screen and caused a glitch. I watched as it typed the letter “g” 106 times. My editor feared I was having a medical emergency. I noticed my hands were pruney.
I stopped under a portico to dry off a bit. I was starting to get cold as the sun went down, but the lights of Paris were just warming up.
As I got ready to resume the chase, I made another important discovery: The electronic bike payment system doesn’t work well in a downpour.
I heard Juliette Armanet singing “Imagine.” I imagined being dry again.
Then — a break in the rain! I watched on a screen from Pont Alexandre III as the Olympic flag went up.
From where I was standing, I could see the very tip of the Eiffel Tower and a few beams from the laser light show. “I’m missing this!” I thought, and sped up.
I got lost going around what seems to be the entire world’s supply of fences.
I ended up within view of the tower and watched on yet another screen as Paris 2024 president Tony Estanguet welcomed the athletes.
Rain was pouring down again.
I hoped my camera was waterproof.
I hoped the cauldron was waterproof.
Then who did I see on the tower? Oh wow! I hoped Celine Dion was waterproof!
I got in at 1:02 a.m., 12 hours and 2 minutes after I left. My phone says I walked more than 12 miles (20 kilometers) and I covered more by bike.
But I experienced the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics, in person, in Paris. I didn’t just see the big things on the screen, but the little things on the street — dancers, skaters, vendors, groups of happy people from all over the world.
“I am living this,” I remembered thinking, “and it is amazing.”
Even all that rain was a little big magical.
Pete’s adventures are mostly those of Artur Galocha, who is reporting from Paris, with help from afar from Bonnie Berkowitz and Álvaro Valiño.
Graphics editing by Samuel Granados.