Our time in France would not have been complete without experiencing at least one grève -- that is, a strike. Earlier in the week upon picking Ellie up from school, her teacher, the long-aforementioned Tattoo Lady, handed us a small printed note. At the top was the word "Grève" and below it were several demands. After a moment's pause, we realized that these demands and their underlying grievance were with the town... or the Department... or Sarkozy... it wasn't exactly clear... but at least they weren't with us.
As you may have seen on the news, yesterday some two million French took to the streets in a nationwide strike to champion any number of causes... and then happily returned to work today. As far as I can tell, the only true purpose of such mass uprisings is to provide the opportunity for every interested citizen to pull out their bright-colored banners, use up those old flares just sitting in the trunk, and play Jean Valjean for the day:
To the Barricades!
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