he summer of 2012 was a magical time to be in London. The sun was shining, the days were long and the cricket was excellent. The West Indies and South Africa were in town, playing matches at Lord’s and The Oval. There were unforgettable concerts by Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney, Duran Duran, Snow Patrol and the forever-young Gipsy Kings. Yet, a buzz in the air overshadowed all these spectacular events: the 2012 Olympics extravaganza. With my young family in tow, I moved from event to event, attending as many as I could and gathering countless memorable experiences. The city was fully geared up and superbly organised for the occasion. Everyone seemed happy and energised.

With these memories in mind, I was thrilled to learn that the 2024 Olympics would be returning to Europe, in none other than Paris, the jewel of the continent.

It took some effort to convince my reluctant son, but eventually, he agreed. With considerable difficulty and expense, I managed to secure tickets to the opening ceremony and a medal event the following day. As I was in London this summer, the journey to Paris was straightforward; we travelled on the Eurostar across the English Channel, which I still regard as one of the most civilised ways to travel internationally. Although the train was busy, the journey was uneventful. From there, we headed to our hotel, the Hotel Odyssey, strategically chosen for its proximity to our seats for the opening ceremony.

The opening ceremony had been widely touted in the media as a groundbreaking event in Olympic history. Rather than taking place in a traditional Olympic arena, it was staged on the historic River Seine, which flows through the heart of Paris. This made it a unique, 2-kilometre-long spectacle, the first of its kind, with teams parading past on boats and waving to spectators seated along both sides of the river.

Given the extortionate prices I paid, it certainly needed to be special!

I was taken aback by the formality and complexity of obtaining and managing the tickets, which were only accessible through official Paris Olympic apps. If you lost your phone or forgot your password, good luck navigating the process!

Hotel Odyssey was clean and efficient, although the rooms were tiny, as is often the case in Europe. The value for money for hotel accommodations in Europe simply cannot compare to the Middle East, particularly the UAE.

Paris felt unusually quiet for a city hosting the world’s largest extravaganza. Security was intense, with paramilitary troops and large armoured vehicles visible throughout central Paris. Many areas were cordoned off and there was hardly any traffic. Most noticeably, there seemed to be a significant absence of local Parisians.

I spoke to some French friends who had all escaped to the south of France or other parts of the world, as they didn’t want to be in the city at this time. While this took away the typical buzz of Paris, it also meant there was less chaos, making the city more enjoyable to walk through. Also, fewer rude Frenchmen to ask for directions! (I jest).

I asked a taxi driver his thoughts on the Olympics. In a typical French way, his blunt answer was, “These are not our Olympics; we can’t afford these tickets. It’s only for foreigners. We are fighting for our jobs, our rightsand our pensions. No one in Paris is happy about these Olympics.” I tried asking others at my hotel and in restaurants and received similar responses. This resonated with general unrest in French society, also evidenced by recent election results showing historic wins for the Leftists, only after a shocking win of the Far-Right in the first round.

I asked the hotel receptionist about crime risk during the Olympics, and he laughed, saying, “If Paris was ever safe, it’s now. With all the police out there, you could throw your wallet on the streetand nobody would pick it up.” He was right; in the centre of Paris, you couldn’t turn a corner without encountering uniformed and heavily armed gendarmes.

So far, so good; but things took a turn when we headed to our stand for the opening ceremony. We had chosen our hotel specifically to be close, but upon reaching the entrance, we found little guidance on directions — quite the opposite of my experience at the 2012 London Olympics. The ticket checkers and guides spoke very little English and knew little beyond their designated areas. This was surprising, considering that the opening ceremony would attract nearly half a million people and stretch over 2 kilometres.

My son, surprising me with his proficiency, used his French to find out that although we were close to our stand, it was on the other side of the river. All the bridges were closed, so we had to walk back, find a metro station and cross over. Many metro stations were closed, and no one knew which ones were open. We literally ran most of the distance. At one point, I needed to find a restroom, which was another nightmare since no guide knew where one was located. My excitement and happiness at attending the Olympics quickly started to evaporate.

We reached our stand just five minutes after the event started. For the first hour, dignitaries spoke, there was musicand the atmosphere was lively. However, I soon discovered a major flaw in the design. Paris is filled with beautiful bridges. Our view was limited to the space between two of them. Any activity beyond that was only visible on large screens along the event route. Despite paying hundreds of euros, much of the event could only be seen on these screens, unlike in a stadium where everyone gets to see the same thing live.

This was extremely disappointing.

Major performances by Lady Gaga and Céline Dion were at a distance, only visible on screens. The opera singer Axelle Saint-Cirel performed the French anthem atop the Grand Palais but was barely visible. That said, the BMX bikers started to perform on a makeshift island just in front of us. The crowd was also getting involved. Just as I was trying to recover from the disappointment, it began to rain. It was not a gentle drizzle, but a torrential downpour that lasted over three hours. Despite being dressed for the possibility of rain and carrying umbrellas, we were soaked up to our socks. With the chilly breeze, it felt freezing.

I decided to stay long enough to see the Pakistani and American contingents, the latter’s flag bearer being none other than LeBron James. Afterwards, I told my son it was impossible for me to stay in the cold any longer, having come from Dubai. We left, stopping at a coffee stall, where we met an elderly Saudi couple who were also warming themselves with hot chocolate. The lady kindly shared dates from Medina with us. We returned to our hotel, exhausted and simply ordered pizza instead of going out. I checked my step count and saw that we had walked nearly 20,000 steps in our search for our stand. That was a workout and a half!

The next morning, we started our walking tour of Paris. After lunch at Mokus, the Italian near Trocadero, we headed to the Champ-de-Mars Arena, a venue specifically set up near the Eiffel Tower, providing a scenic backdrop. This was the home for the judo medal event, which turned out to be the highlight of our trip. The arena was well-designed, with easy access, and our seats were close to the mat. Two strong French competitors made it to the finals, engaging the crowd all the way. Though they didn’t win gold, the tension in the finals made the experience far more exciting than the earlier heats elsewhere in the city.

I am glad I chose a medal event, though I have no particular interest in judo, as the tension and emotions were palpable, both in the crowd and the competitors. It was worth noting the intense disappointment of those who lost the bronze round. It is for good reason: once you are an Olympic medalist, your name is immortalised. No one remembers number four. The two women’s bronze medalists were both European Muslims of Arab descent — one from Sweden and the other from France. Given the racial tensions in Sweden and recent Right-wing election results in France, it was ironic that these ethnic minorities were representing their flags as national heroes.

Afterwards, we visited the Pompidou Centre and an entertainment park set up for the Olympics. We ended the day with classic French pastries at Carrette.

The next morning, a German doner near Gare du Nord was our final meal before catching our train back to London. I used that spare time to buy some obligatory Olympic souvenirs. There was some tension on the return trip due to anarchists attempting to attack the tracks, which caused considerable delays. Luckily, our train left on time.

It was ironic that the sun was out nearly every day after the opening ceremony. Later on, I followed the Olympics on television, and I must say it looked a lot more fun that way. The Paris Olympics was good for Pakistan with Arshad Nadeem’s gold.

That said, the Olympics, after all, are an experience to remember. The atmosphere at the judo event was electric, and Paris looked beautiful, especially with fewer people around.

In my opinion, France was not ready for this event. Politically, the country was in turmoil, and the people clearly did not buy into the Olympic enterprise. There were police everywhere, but they were standoffish and rude. When I tried asking a couple of them for directions, the only response I received was, “I am not from Paris,” followed by a French shrug. Ticket pricing was extortionate, at over £1,000 for the opening event; there was no way an average Parisian could afford these prices. No wonder they left.

I can only compare this to my experience 12 years ago in London, where the local population truly bought into the event, adding to the atmosphere not just in the stadium but all around the city. You cannot organise an event like a football World Cup or the Olympics if the local population hasn’t bought into it.

For me, the golden summer of the Olympics will always be 2012.

The writer is a finance professional based in Dubai. He tweets @travelutionary1