Protest Impersonator

Quartier Bouffet seemed unusually tranquil as Caitlin and I lazily meandered through les rues Thursday afternoon. All of my university classes for the day had been canceled because of la grève-a nationwide strike. Thus far I had been a little disappointed with la grève: All of the trams were running, the shops we’re open, and the city was peaceful. But just as we left the quarter and turned onto the main rue, I felt the change. Finally there were people, a steady stream of them was heading towards centre ville. Caitlin and I exchanged excited glances and I suppressed a shriek of excitement, as we followed the flow to the demonstration. As we drew nearer, the crowd thickened and voices rose. There were vans haphazardly parked throughout the city’s main boulevard, signs and flags were waving high above the crowd. The sea of people—now virtually shoulder to shoulder—extended for hundreds of meters! Cries from the crowd could be heard above the beating French reggae. Bottle rockets and cap guns fired sporadically, sometimes they were far away, and sometimes they were a little too close for comfort. Up until this point, I had tried to act natural and stick out too much as a tourist, but now I couldn’t help but whip out my camera, this was all way too exciting to go undocumented!

Lycée and university students were there protesting the decaying educational standards. (The French are very proud of their exceptional and rigorous public education system). Les fonctionnaires (government employees) were protesting the diminishing hours and salaries provided par l’état. Many were there to cry out for help and unionization to get through the economic crisis. Others filled the space and gave moral support to their fellow countrymen, there were old men and women, children, and even mothers with babies in strollers were present! One group of dramatic protesters especially intrigued me. A group of ‘secret service’ agents were leading a black car where 'Caesar' Nicholas Sarkozy was waving to his followers. In his right hand, he was holding the media (which consisted of a man tied up as a hostage inside of an empty television set) on a leash. His followers were wearing sheep masks, nodding their heads and baaahaha-ing obediently. Caitlin and I got swept along with the fifty or so sheep that were following his parade so we decided to go along with the protest for a tour around the block. I can’t say I really follow French politics nor do I have any sort of row with Sarkozy, but it was absolutely thrilling to join the protest either way. The only way I would have felt more French was if I had been smoking a cigarette. What a great day! It may have even been more exciting than a snow day.

I did have to walk home though. No trams. I didn’t have to worry about getting lost though since I could just walk the tracks the whole way home along with the real frenchies :)