For more than a month now people have been anxiously awaiting the transportation strike that took place today. It was a massive strike, involving trains, buses, metros in all major French cities. Of course, I wouldn't feel like I were in France if I didn't experience at least one strike. Happily, I was given the day off and didn't have to schlepp all the way to work on foot like so many Parisians today. Instead I decided to pull the shutters tight against the windows of my bedroom and sleep in. While everyone else was agitatedly searching for an available velib', I was lying under my quilt, dreaming about the huge pot of lentil soup I planned to make today - leeks, zucchini, potatoes, cumin...yum.
On my way to the market, I did unwittingly join a parade of disgruntled young cheminots (train conducteurs). They waved their red flags and blew their whistles in between taking a drag from their cigarettes and a chug of what must have been fairly warm cheap beer. I walked along with them for a while until I got bored with feigning righteous indignation and went to the Super M to get ingredients for my soup. The store was eerily empty. I imagine they were seriously short-staffed like most companies today.
I enjoyed the rest of my free afternoon. Took a nap. Read. Watched Cuisine TV. Strikes are a wonderfu thing...er, that is until I heard that this one may continue. What? Don't they know I have places to be tomorrow?
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