I did get a chance to see the strike last Tuesday! I don’t know how I could not have, really, since it went right past my apartment, but on Tuesday morning I found the group of teachers and college students in front of the rectorat of Limoges. Paula came with me on the strike, and we marched all the way to the prefecture behind this big van that played reggae music. The students and teachers were all carrying flags and shouting out songs that they must have learned before the strike; Paula and I spent our time trying to discern what they were saying. “Hosanna? Oh, no, aux armes!” The education system has been suffering over recent years from layoffs and cutbacks, and so the “syndicate” decided it was time to strike for one day. Paula and I had a wonderful time, playing French protesters, and when we arrived in front of the prefecture, we decided to hop into the post office for a moment while a man at the forefront of the strike gave a speech about what the strikers wanted. When Paula and I got out of the post office, everyone had left. In five minutes. I asked one of my colleagues, who was still there, what had happened, and she said, “I guess everyone went to lunch!” Oh, the French. They’re so hilarious. Anyway, this was apparently quite a small strike, which is why the ending was so disappointing. So I can’t wait for the next one! I hope it’s enormous!
This past weekend, Ansleigh and Alex, American assistants here in Limoges, decided to throw a Thanksgiving dinner for the assistants and our friends from abroad. Paula and I brought our Romanian counterparts, and present at the party were people from all over the place—Venezuela, Italy, the UK, Colombia, France, etc. We all had the most fantastic time. All of the non-Americans were stunned by how good the food was; they kept saying that they couldn’t believe no one had ever told them about this American tradition. It was delicious food, and all of us ran our mouths off the whole time, mostly discussing cultural differences (the number one topic while one is abroad) and politics. The American assistants and I realized how many of us are blonde, and you know, I’m becoming acutely aware of how rare it must be to be blond. I’ve noticed that not even many French people have blond hair. They’re usually brunettes. Anyway, we then proceeded to the apartment of Adam, one of the British assistants, where we all talked and danced with even more internationals. I learned how to dance like South Americans. Sort of. It was all great fun.
Then on Sunday, Paula and I went to Mass at St-Pierre. During communion, there were no ushers to help people know when to go to the Eucharistic minister; everyone (on the side of the church, at least) just walked in a cluster toward the minister. And at the end of the service, the priest had four candles for the servers to carry, but seven servers. They all clamored for a candle to take with them, and he patted the rejected three on the head after he handed the candles out. Quite cute. Then, in the evening, I had my first accordion/piano exchange with Ivan the Bartender. It was kind of strange, but fun, as I learned a little bit of accordion, played the piano terribly but helped keep him in rhythm, and got free pineapple juice.
Last night I saw two Michael Moore documentaries. I don’t know how this happened, since I’d never seen one from start to finish before yesterday afternoon, but now I feel informed and confused and totally suspicious of corporate America and Wall Street. In addition to “Capitalism: A Love Story,” I saw “The Big One,” which I thought was very good. And the French ladies that I saw “Capitalism” with kept asking me all kinds of questions that I didn’t know how to answer: “Well who would vote for Republicans? Only the very wealthy?” “In France, we have life insurance to help support families. You don’t have this in the U.S.? Why would you insure companies for employees that die?” At times like this, I wish I were more informed and that my French were better.
I cannot believe it's December.
A small education strike in Limoges
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