I was looking forward to my badminton match tonight when I get a call from my wife. “The strikes starts tonight at 8pm, not tomorrow!” she says. So I look on the net, all I find are details about the schedule tomorrow. I ask my coworkers and they confirm. I send an instant message to my badminton partner and give her the bad news. We decide to cancel, afraid of being stuck far away from home.

This is one of the biggest strikes in a long time. All the unions are participating. Tomorrow the traffic will be 15-25% for the metro. Already when it’s 100% the metro is completely saturated, with people pushing, shoving, and often arguing just to get on the next train. Even just 50% would be totally unusable during rush hour, but 15%? Forget it. And the 15% was for rush hour, outside of rush hour there will be practically no metro.

I sent an email to my boss and our assistant saying I was changing my RTT planned for next week to take 2 days this week. No sense in fighting a loosing battle I thought. My coworkers started making arrangements as well. The “good” ones were given the opportunity to work from home.

The only metro line operating at normal capacity is line 14, which is completely automated and doesn’t have a driver. That’s pretty cool I thought, replace all the metro drivers with computers and we wouldn’t have this problem. And people are complaining about computers taking their jobs!

Also, what are all the tourists going to do? I came to France three times before I moved here. Two of those trips occurred during a strike. But it wasn’t a total shutdown like this one.

I actually don’t mind them making me late for work, etc. But don’t screw with my badminton matches damnit!!

Eating my lunch on a park bench in Paris today, I was thinking I should write more about little day to day stuff. But then I realized that my day to day is actually pretty boring and who wants to read that? Anyway, let’s give it a try, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Today I had to go to a hospital in Paris to pick up a special medicine that I can’t get in the pharmacies. I already mentioned this in a previous blog The witch at the pharmacy (I haven’t seen the witch in a long time).

I go in and there’s 6 people waiting. Great, I’m screwed. It’s going to take an hour I thought. See there’s no line, no “take a number”, nothing. Just a room full of strangers who are bound by the unofficial French code that forbids talking to strangers in public. It was like this at a laboratory I used to go to. Total chaos.

I remember one incident at the lab, two people came in together. My seat had an empty seat next to it so I got up to give them my seat and another. I thought it was very thoughtful. 15 minutes later when the woman says “next” I get up to go to the counter and the guy to whom I generously gave my seat goes up to the counter as well. His wife claims that he’s next, as if she’s an official judge handing out a verdict. I can’t believe what’s happening. I told them I was next and I pulled out my paperwork for the secretary so that there would be no discussion.

Were they doing it on purpose? I really don’t think so. I think the French don’t pay any attention to strangers and all they think about is being next. They probably thought I was leaving, and then saw the other me sit down after them and figured they were there before me. I know it sounds crazy but I do think that’s what happened. But then again I’m naive.

It’s sad but after a few experiences like that, one stops giving up their seat and other nice gestures. Get burned one too many times and you learn your lesson. And when you share a city with 10 million other people who’ve also learned their lesson, it can get a little unpleasant.

Back in the pharmacy, one of the employees came in to call one of the people waiting and I politely informed her that I had this special medicine which can only be dispensed by an intern (not sure why, I think it’s an attempt to make the interns do the more difficult work). A few minutes later a woman calls out “the patient with the ATU”. I heard her but before I could even think of moving a muscle a woman had practically ran to the counter. I’m not sure if she didn’t understand or if she was just trying to avoid me effectively cutting line (technically I was in a different line, one that fortunately for me happened to be empty). The intern threw a bag of medicine at me and I was out of there in no time. Cool.

I found a large quiche at the boulangerie (bakery) next door and got a piece to go, along with an almandine which is a little round tarte full of pate d’almonds (almond paste) complete with a fake cherry on top. I found a bench across the street in in the park that wasn’t occupied by drunk SDF (homeless people) like the others and had a nice relaxing lunch devoid of cigarette smoke and slow waiters. The quiche was pretty good, and the almandine better, all for 5.60 euros.

On the way to the metro I walked past a small fountain that presumedly comes from a spring under Paris. I once saw a report on tv about them, they’re all over. And the water that comes out is as good as the bottled water you buy. In fact, in some cases, it *is* the bottled water you buy. One company actually bought the rights to bottle it up and sell it. The whiff of urine kind of distracted from the experience though and I sped up as fast as I could. This is insane I thought to myself, usually the urine smell is in the metro and I’m in a hurry to get out.

As I’m writing this, On the metro back to work, a musician gets on and I instantly recognized him and his song. “Imagine” by the Beatles. It’s funny hearing a Beatles song with a Polish accent. The song instantly took me back to 4 years ago when I used to hear his music on the train to Saint-Lazare in the mornings. I know he’s Polish cause I spoke with him once as we got off the train. He seemed pretty nice and I wonder how he’s doing. Obviously he’s making money at it or he would be fixing faucets by now.

Just a few more stations until I’m back at the office where I’ll quickly post this and get back to pretending to be working (just kidding!)…

Darn, I should have taken a photo with my mobile. Anyway, here goes:

Riding the metro is rarely fun. The SDF (Sans Domicile Fixe – this term literally means “without a permanent address”, it’s part of an attempt to restore dignity to everyone, even the homeless) get on the metro and then they’ve got you captive for 60-90 seconds. But the other day we got a special treat. It is the period of Ramadan, and since several of my coworkers are Muslim I’ve become more familiar with this religious holiday.

Anyways, a Muslim woman gets on the metro and we take off. Then she takes off. Starts saying it’s unacceptable that they sell alcohol during Ramadan. She pulls out a small book (maybe the Koran?) and just keeps on preaching. At least the SDF get off after one or two stops. Then she starts in on Jewish people. Then homosexuals. I have to give her credit, she found a way to insult practically everyone in the subway car!

Usually on the metro you’re not supposed to look at the person in front of you (who has their knees just inches away from your most sacred possessions) but with crazy lady on the train we couldn’t help but look at each other, make faces, roll our eyes, etc. Some people were flat out busting with laughter.

And she continued. Apparently god turned the homosexuals into monkeys. I’m not quite sure that fits into Darwin’s theory of evolution. We finally arrived at Saint-Lazare, a big station where the subway car practically empties out and then fills up again all in just 20 seconds. As we left the car we were laughing while crazy lady kept preaching to us, having moved on from the monkeys to another subject. And the looks on the faces of the people waiting to get on was quite amusing. What the heck? There’s a crazy lady in the wagon! Yet they got on as we got off .

This reminds me of one other time, although the lady wasn’t crazy. She was also Arabic but I am by no means saying that all the crazy people are Arabic! She gets on and gives us a sad story about needing money and stuff. Not too convincing because no one gave her money. Then as she was getting off she starts cursing at us in a mix of French and Arabic. Yelling and screaming! Everyone was relieved when she got off, and even more relieved that we hadn’t given her any money!

A week or so later I just happened to see her again. Same sad story. I wanted to yell out “Don’t give her anything! She’s going to curse us all!” but I held back. A woman gave her some coins. And same as last time, as she was getting off she starts cursing us again! That can’t be good for business. I haven’t seen her since.

So I’m not sure if crazy lady is only crazy during Ramadan or if she’s always like that. But next time I’ll be prepared with my camera.