STRIKE... well this is more than 3

(The last blog entry was really rushed because this is the one I really wanted to write.)
I once told Anna that my teachers were on strike and she told me she had stopped caring why- they didn't need a reason, they were French!
She has a point.
In the United States, strikes are something you read about in history books. Or pass in the streets and wonder what the hell they are shouting about, because aren't they supposed to be working or something right now?
Not so in France. There is a strike about something, so far, about every other week since I have been here. At first I had no idea what the were about (they explained, I just didn't understand, had something to do with bad teachers not getting fired at one point) and right now it is because they want to raise the retirement age from 60 to 62.
In the US, when there is a strike, you drive right on past it. In France, the world comes to a screeching halt for a few days. The buses do not run, or not on the same schedule and so many people just walk and have to leave earlier in order to get anywhere on time. Malika has to pick up and drop of ALL of the kids for lunch because the cafeterias are closed. About half of the teachers are gone, which means we don't have class. Really it is kind-of fun.
But before yesterday I hadn't SEEN a strike. Experienced the effects, yes, but not seen one, and apparently, french teens really know how to throw a strike.
When workers go on strike, its called un greve. When students strike- un bloqueuse. Why? Anatomy of the word... bloq... sounds a little like block, right? Right. And that is why. Because in a strike they don't do anything, and in a bloqueuse they block the entry-way physically and insure that no-one enters. Including poor confused exchange students (unless you put on a very good helpless face :) and speak very bad french to them). So really, you can still get in its just a pain.
I really don't know how they are organized, but everyone knows about it before-hand. I think it has something to do with the marvels of facebook, but I am not sure. There were several around town last week, but the first at Lacasagne was this Monday. Actually it was scheduled for Tuesday, but like anything that involves skipping class to chat with friends and yell randomly, why wait? So at first mostly everyone just stood around asking "is there un bloqueuse today?" Finally a few people started standing in the doorway (the gate is broken, so there is just one door we all have to go through making it much easier to block). I was really rather lucky that my first class was at 8 that day, they weren't very organized yet and so it was easier to get through. I just had one class that morning, an hour of Italian, and my other class was canceled. So at 9 o'clock I stood at the door to the building with the rest of my class. The principals of the school stood at the door, watching outside. The crowd had swelled and while I am really really bad at estimating numbers, I am going to guess that there were 50 students all crowded outside in the cold. The trashcans were lined up in front of the school doors and people were on the steps, sidewalk and spilling out onto the street. One girl had a whistle and every time she blew it everyone would yell. Someone threw a small firecracker (or something of the sort) near the steps, after that the principal opened the door and what was left of my class snaked out, laughing. My only other class that day was at 2 and by that point the crowd had dissipated, some went home, some I think to Bellecour. Either way, the 5 of us that had actually come to class finished in peace.
Clips on youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FG8Y0GX9pAQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-sVQcZ3sz0&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Koz9EpzvPSA
Tuesday: the real date of the bloquese. I just happened to see Marina on my way to school and so we walked the rest of the way there together. Paul, a friend of the family just randomly came up "Salut."
I just kind of looked at him for a second. Surprise! First of all, he does not go to the same school and as far as I know, his school is no where nearby. Second of all he was in shorts (French guys also wear shorter shorts than American guys) and a tee-shirt. You have to understand that it was in the 40s, I, for one, was wearing jeans, boots, a long sleeved-shirt, a sweater, a jacket, and a very warm scarf, and was still a little cold. Stupid wind.
"Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici?"
He was a part of the bloquese, apparently people from other schools all gather at Lacassagne, and he was not wearing warm clothes in protest though I fail to see how that helped.
Everyone was on the steps. Trashcans lined up in-front. I saw Charlotte on the steps and went to talk to her.
"Are you going in?"
"No way, are you?"
"I think I have to, for my program I can't skip class"
"Don't worry about it! There probably isn't even class anyways."
I looked at her doubtfully.
"Look" she took my arm "no one will be in class, I won't, Sophie isn't even coming today... and everyone else is out here, protesting" she pointed out our classmates in the crowd, one by one. "Even if you did go in, chances are the teacher is on strike too."
Eventually, I just took her word for it. Smart, smart, Charlotte... from what I heard later no one went in that morning.
In the meantime, everything was barely controlled chaos. People were chanting with signs, yelling, and because they are french, smoking. A small fight broke out, but was over almost as quickly as it had started.
Really it was quite interesting for me and, being me, I really wanted to follow everyone to Bellecour but I can't say that would have been very safe so I heeded my better judgment and decided to go back home. At this point many of the less enthusiastic protesters were trickling out of the crowd to go back home, and many of those more dedicated to the cause were marching off to continue in Bellecour. Marina and I decided to leave by a back ally so that we didn't have to make our way back through the crowd, just as we started to walk away there were shouts and a few high-pitched squeals followed by a crunch. We spun around just in time to see a group of guys over-turn a car on the other side of the street. The driver's side window crushed glass littered on the ground as it teetered for a minute and then stood still, balanced on its right side. The boys all looked at each other, grinning with the adrenalin and laughing. Is it weird that my first thought was not "what the are they doing?" or "the poor owner of that car!" but "damn, of all the days to leave my camera at home!"
Don't worry, the other thoughts followed shortly after, but I am very upset not to have that picture.
Marina and I went way out of our way to avoid the destruction, got a little lost for a few minutes, and took a while getting home. I sat around and worked and memorizing all the irregular verbs and their conjugations in the present tense, as I have long since forgotten them and they are kinda important, if not boring. After lunch I went back to class for the afternoon, as boring as it was as there were maybe 6, 7 people in my class.
The next 2 mornings followed the same pattern. Walk to school, blocquese. Go to class. Do nothing. Go home. Laugh about the french with my Moroccan family. The administration, that had done nothing at all the first two days seemed upset by how out-of hand things had gotten on Tuesday so they started to maintain some sort of order- protesting was still allowed. There were never again as many people as Tuesday, and so we did nothing in class. Seriously, we watched the Titanic in History. We read a really good poem by Victor Hugo in French and talked about how hard it was for people like me to learn French because the language has so many exceptions and contradictions, and written is not always anything like the spoken language. In math the teacher basically did their homework for them. My economics teacher explained the basics of this issue.. why they are trying to raise the retirement age and the arguments for and against it. Basically its not going to solve the problem but they have to do something. We actually did something in Science at the end of the week- took a test. It was written and I made tons of mistakes with grammar (protein is feminin, in case you were wondering) but stil did rather well on the test. By Friday they had already voted on the issue, but as the following week was fall break and they had already skipped an entire week most people continued protesting, just so they didn't have to go to class.
Apparently after the protests were over the skin heads came into town from the countryside, looking for a fight for revenge for all the havoc. Of course that is just an excuse, and basically, we stayed inside that weekend.
Malika rolled her eyes at me once. "The French are always protesting. Always unhappy about something." I laughed and agreed. Its kind-of a pain sometimes. Tons of damage that the state now has to waste more money on in fixing. None of the normal services are offered- bus schedules are messed up and school cafeterias close. They over-react, and I don't agree with what they are fighting for. 2 extra years of work? They have it really good already, they don't need to complain.
And yet, where is that line where they should complain? This aspect of their culture is part of why they have all that they do today. They don't accept anything less, they have high standards and expectations. They are not going to let anyone walk over them. If they did, they wouldn't really be French.