Back in the old days, at least back to '68 and my first years here in France, strikes came with warm weather. It seems to make sense: days are long, so the disruption can go on longer; it's usually nice walking or marching weather, depending on what side of the strike you are.
Then some years ago, they started striking in cold, freezing weather. Of course the government started introducing major reforms that university students would protest in November or December - perhaps thinking that the students wouldn't march in the cold. But you'd think they'd have figured out, by now, that students don't care about the weather. (The fact that they have to wear their coats in class because of the poor heating means it doesn't make much difference to them.)
Transport workers can strike in all seasons, but they've decided that the best season is when commuters have to get up in the freezing cold and walk, hitch-hike, bike, or find some other way of getting to work. And they decided that one-day strikes weren't inconvenient enough. Now, they announce a one-day strike and then extend it day-by-day, so you don't know how you're going to organize your trip the next day.
A lot of us remember the strike in November-December '95. For some, it was the downfall of the Juppé government; for me it was the end of the Model F van. I was teaching at Langues et Affairs in Levallois at the time; I'd leave home at about 6:00 with the hope I'd arrive at work by 9:00. After work, at 12, I'd drop off anyone else who left at the same time. I remember one guy, who didn't live far from Nogent, who came by bike and we'd load up his bike into the van. One day, I had two passengers with bikes. That was a day it snowed. Towards the end of the strike, some of the students were no longer coming to class and by the last day there was only one. Since we knew that there would only be the two of us, we arranged to meet at a café midway between our homes. By then, I no longer had a car. The Model F sputtered and died at a traffic light one morning - couldn't take the overheating in traffic jams any more.
Since then, the '95 strike is the one against all others are measured and late fall strikes have become the standard. It doesn't matter what the issue of the day is. It does matter who is in power; when Sarkozy won the election, it was a given that his government would have to face these strikes. It doesn't matter that hardly anyone in France belongs to a union; the unions are really political entities with political agendas.
There was a warm-up strike a month ago - it lasted two days. This time they started on Wednesday (that really means Tuesday at 8:00 p.m.) and it looks like it'll continue on to next week. (Anne made contingency plans and has spent the week at Claire's.) It's been very cold, but sunny. I'm not working, so it's not a daily headache for me. Yesterday, I had to go in to Paris - the metro line from Vincennes was operating, so I walked to Vincennes (45 minutes) and got the metro. Coming back, I even got on a bus before it got too crowded and didn't have to walk back to Nogent. People are very nice during strikes: drivers pick up hitch-hikers; commuters squished in metros and busses are polite and even start conversations; you're excused if you're late.... Boy! Am I glad I don't have to drive to Plessis-Robinson now!
Friday, November 16, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Beautiful Weather in Great Britain
Britain gets a bum rap. Everyone always talks about the rain. I think the weather has been great each time I've been there and last weekend was no exception. In fact, last weekend was extraordinarily beautiful.
Our drive up to Calais to the ferry was cold and gray and we were looking forward to a "typical" British stay. But as the white cliffs of Dover came into view, so did the sun and we debarked under blue sky. It was even warm.
We had one of those "Louette" sunsets on the way up to Northampton. I mentioned it and Claire told me that they had said the same thing in the Twingo. (The Lebelle family invaded in two cars - Louis' Twingo and our Previa with only about half of Claire's stuff.) We hit the M25 around London at exactly the wrong time and got caught in the evening traffic jam, although it looked worse in the lanes going south. Our 3-hour drive from Dover to Northampton ended up taking about 5 hours.
Geoff and Charlotte met us with a great dinner. Charlotte was excited by all the people in the house - 9 adults all after her attention! The car was emptied into the garage; we were fed and all settled down for the night. Geoff led us to our hotel and we collapsed into bed.
The drive to the hotel looked so easy, who could imagine we'd get lost going back to the house? But getting lost is really the only way to discover a place, so once we ended up back on the M1, we took a different exit and wandered to Duston and through the housing estates until we found the house. Geoff outdid himself again by serving up a full English breakfast. Claire had already gone out for an interview and came home just as everyone was dressed and ready to go. She just managed to eat her own breakfast and left for Stratford.
It was on the way to Stratford, under a cloudless blue sky, that we got to see the countryside - the perfectly trimmed hedges, the sheep in the fields, the very narrow roads, ... In fact, it was so nice, once we got to Stratford, we didn't want to go into the different buildings - we'll do that some other time, when we are less numerous. We just strolled in the streets, saw Shakespeare's
birthplace, of course, but did not go in. We saw that there is a teddy bear museum up near the market (good for another visit with Charlotte)! We admired the Harvard house, which turned out to be where John Harvard's mother lived, not necessarily where he was born or lived. Still, it's a beautiful building on the High Street. (I think it's one of the two houses behind the family in this picture.) From there, we decided to visit the Butterfly Farm so that something of the day would be interesting for Charlotte. The town is so well-kept - the houses recently painted, pedestrian zones with clean streets and busy shops. It seems too perfect to be real - Disneylike.
The Butterfly Farm turned out to be interesting to all. Unfortunately, our own pictures did not turn out. There were butterflies all over - we could even sit on benches and watch them as they fed on the fruit that was laid out for them. Charlotte wasn't the only one running after them! We saw the caterpillars, the cocoons and the emerging butterflies. There were a few iguana in the tree tops and some birds. And then there was the room with spiders and scorpions - beautiful and safely behind glass.
After all this fun, we headed back to Duston and another of Geoff's fabulous dinners.
On Saturday, we headed down to Woking to meet the rest of Geoff's family. Again, we had the impression of an invasion. The table was set for 14! Another great meal - a real couscous! (This emphasis on food is starting to sound like Louette's letters to me! But I can't help it - the food was great!) But we had another surprise - Guy Fawkes day is not exactly November 5 any more; they celebrate on the closest weekend. So, in Woking, they had fireworks on Saturday night and the Husaunndee house is just opposite the park. They set up chairs in the front - like a theater - and we had a private show. And what a show they put on!
In Woking, the Lebelle clan all stayed at the Holiday Inn right in the center of town. Some of the kids went off to a pub and caught a live rock band show before going to bed. That made it a little more difficult to get all seven of us up and out for breakfast in the morning, but we did manage to get back to the Husaunndees and say bye before setting off for Dover.
The plan was to visit Canterbury before going to the ferry and we made it. I'm of a generation that read the prologue and a tale from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales when I was in high school. I remember the scene in the movie "The Lion in Winter" where Henry II talks about the murder of Thomas Becket. I remember reading Jean Anouilh's Becket and T. S. Eliot's play Murder in the Cathedral. All of this primed me for visiting the Cathedral. Paul and Emma too, but not the others, who decided to stroll through the town.
The cathedral is much larger than I think I had expected. That the Gothic structure should be on top of the Roman church is not surprising. It's the same in Chartres. But this church is so long! It seems to stretch forever. And it's multi-level, so the proportions are difficult to judge. I'd like to go back for a longer visit and prepare a bit more beforehand or take the audio guide next time. There's really so much to see. And you have to remember that I am absolutely sick of visiting churches, so this must really be impressive for me to want to return!
Our drive up to Calais to the ferry was cold and gray and we were looking forward to a "typical" British stay. But as the white cliffs of Dover came into view, so did the sun and we debarked under blue sky. It was even warm.
We had one of those "Louette" sunsets on the way up to Northampton. I mentioned it and Claire told me that they had said the same thing in the Twingo. (The Lebelle family invaded in two cars - Louis' Twingo and our Previa with only about half of Claire's stuff.) We hit the M25 around London at exactly the wrong time and got caught in the evening traffic jam, although it looked worse in the lanes going south. Our 3-hour drive from Dover to Northampton ended up taking about 5 hours.
Geoff and Charlotte met us with a great dinner. Charlotte was excited by all the people in the house - 9 adults all after her attention! The car was emptied into the garage; we were fed and all settled down for the night. Geoff led us to our hotel and we collapsed into bed.
The drive to the hotel looked so easy, who could imagine we'd get lost going back to the house? But getting lost is really the only way to discover a place, so once we ended up back on the M1, we took a different exit and wandered to Duston and through the housing estates until we found the house. Geoff outdid himself again by serving up a full English breakfast. Claire had already gone out for an interview and came home just as everyone was dressed and ready to go. She just managed to eat her own breakfast and left for Stratford.
It was on the way to Stratford, under a cloudless blue sky, that we got to see the countryside - the perfectly trimmed hedges, the sheep in the fields, the very narrow roads, ... In fact, it was so nice, once we got to Stratford, we didn't want to go into the different buildings - we'll do that some other time, when we are less numerous. We just strolled in the streets, saw Shakespeare's
birthplace, of course, but did not go in. We saw that there is a teddy bear museum up near the market (good for another visit with Charlotte)! We admired the Harvard house, which turned out to be where John Harvard's mother lived, not necessarily where he was born or lived. Still, it's a beautiful building on the High Street. (I think it's one of the two houses behind the family in this picture.) From there, we decided to visit the Butterfly Farm so that something of the day would be interesting for Charlotte. The town is so well-kept - the houses recently painted, pedestrian zones with clean streets and busy shops. It seems too perfect to be real - Disneylike.The Butterfly Farm turned out to be interesting to all. Unfortunately, our own pictures did not turn out. There were butterflies all over - we could even sit on benches and watch them as they fed on the fruit that was laid out for them. Charlotte wasn't the only one running after them! We saw the caterpillars, the cocoons and the emerging butterflies. There were a few iguana in the tree tops and some birds. And then there was the room with spiders and scorpions - beautiful and safely behind glass.
After all this fun, we headed back to Duston and another of Geoff's fabulous dinners.
On Saturday, we headed down to Woking to meet the rest of Geoff's family. Again, we had the impression of an invasion. The table was set for 14! Another great meal - a real couscous! (This emphasis on food is starting to sound like Louette's letters to me! But I can't help it - the food was great!) But we had another surprise - Guy Fawkes day is not exactly November 5 any more; they celebrate on the closest weekend. So, in Woking, they had fireworks on Saturday night and the Husaunndee house is just opposite the park. They set up chairs in the front - like a theater - and we had a private show. And what a show they put on!
In Woking, the Lebelle clan all stayed at the Holiday Inn right in the center of town. Some of the kids went off to a pub and caught a live rock band show before going to bed. That made it a little more difficult to get all seven of us up and out for breakfast in the morning, but we did manage to get back to the Husaunndees and say bye before setting off for Dover.
The plan was to visit Canterbury before going to the ferry and we made it. I'm of a generation that read the prologue and a tale from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales when I was in high school. I remember the scene in the movie "The Lion in Winter" where Henry II talks about the murder of Thomas Becket. I remember reading Jean Anouilh's Becket and T. S. Eliot's play Murder in the Cathedral. All of this primed me for visiting the Cathedral. Paul and Emma too, but not the others, who decided to stroll through the town.
The cathedral is much larger than I think I had expected. That the Gothic structure should be on top of the Roman church is not surprising. It's the same in Chartres. But this church is so long! It seems to stretch forever. And it's multi-level, so the proportions are difficult to judge. I'd like to go back for a longer visit and prepare a bit more beforehand or take the audio guide next time. There's really so much to see. And you have to remember that I am absolutely sick of visiting churches, so this must really be impressive for me to want to return!
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