To accuse the French of being lazy would be to invite impassioned Gallic defence of their particular view of the world - at least until lunchtime when they have more important activités de loisirs. However it cannot be disputed that work for the French occupies a tier approximately level with dog crap on the pavements of Paris, and people who do not speak French: annoyances to be suffered with extravagant French forbearance. Countless times here I encountered businesses closed for many hours in the middle of the day, random days where they had apparently decided to not open at all, and a general feeling of resentment that you were interrupting their earnest study of Oops! magazine with your annoying expectation to be attended. It appears in France that if you, say, drive a bus, then this is exactly what you do: drive A bus - one - reluctantly - for a single journey from one place to another, before disappearing for most of the rest of the day to do whatever it is that French people do when they are not working, which is most of the time. Then, at the end of the day, you drive it back home - again reluctantly - and add another full day of service to your generous government pension. What the French hope to be able to do with this pension when they retire is unclear, as every other shop, transport, service and business will undoubtedly also be closed when they come to spend it, but they seem content. There can be no doubt that the French fought valiantly against German occupation in World War II, however it seems safe to assume that the initial invasion happened on a Tuesday when nobody was at work.
Welcome - back - to France. I found myself here after attending the wedding of a friend in the UK, and having a week to kill before meeting them again in Munich for Oktoberfest. I had not necessarily planned to send an ALITS update on this trip as it was only three weeks and they have now taken on a life of their own, and must actually contain something worth telling rather than the minutiae of daily travel. And for almost the entire trip this was the case. However.........
Last night I arrived in Paris to take the overnight train to Munich, and found all carriages locked, and multitudes of people milling around on the platform. As the departure time approached an announcement was made that there was a problem with the engine, and hence departure would be delayed. Being a German train, I viewed this with some suspicion, and so I wandered the track until I found a group of rail employees standing in lively discussion. Some stealthy eavesdropping revealed the true story (there is no doubt in my mind that each of them spoke both French and German fluently, as well as probably half a dozen other languages - the Europeans always have my absolute respect on this front. But the eavesdropping was possible because the entire conversation was conducted in English: I'm guessing because the German would not conduct it in French, and of course there was no way the French would deign to speak German, so English, as always, was the compromise): the train was supposed to have been cleaned after arriving from Munich earlier in the day, but had not (presumably it arrived during one of the many French rail staff breaks or strikes). And of course now, as it would require them to actually do some work, the French were insisting that it was almost departure time so there was nothing for it than for the doors to be unlocked, everybody to be allowed on, and the train simply leave uncleaned. The lone German rail representative was having none of it and was facing down a dozen French on his own with stout Teutonic resolve, saying that the instant the train crossed the border into Germany and returned to his authority, he would stop it immediately and drag them all the way back across the country to clean it, so do your bloody job. A classic European impasse 1,000+ years in the making. As it would also have meant no replenishment of stocks and thus no beer on board for the 11 hour ride to Munich, I was firmly on the German side here. Eventually the French surrendered as they inevitably do and grumbled off to clean the train.
What happened next was yet another reminder of why you travel. About 15 minutes into the cleaning, inside the carriage I happened to be sitting in front of (which had already been passed through by the efficient French cleaning squad), a disheveled head popped up & looked blearily out the window. Then a drunken passenger, clearly having only just woken up from the previous journey despite the train having arrived hours ago, lurched down the corridor, opened the door from the inside & stumbled off up the platform into the Paris night. This naturally sparked the crowd to rush for the door, and hundreds of people, concerned at missing out, crammed immediately onto the train through this one door. The German rail guard, face now red, fronted the French group, asking the not unreasonable question of how, in their definition of "cleaning", they had missed such a leftover feature as a body. However we were all already on board & after some minutes mob rule won out, and the announcement came that the train would be departing in 5 minutes, don't worry about which ticket or seat, just get on. Which just goes to show that German order may trump French laziness, but being drunk is always best in the end.
And with that cheering thought it's time for a special one-off message from the great Jerry Springer: 'til next time, take care of yourselves.....and each other.
Welcome - back - to France. I found myself here after attending the wedding of a friend in the UK, and having a week to kill before meeting them again in Munich for Oktoberfest. I had not necessarily planned to send an ALITS update on this trip as it was only three weeks and they have now taken on a life of their own, and must actually contain something worth telling rather than the minutiae of daily travel. And for almost the entire trip this was the case. However.........
Last night I arrived in Paris to take the overnight train to Munich, and found all carriages locked, and multitudes of people milling around on the platform. As the departure time approached an announcement was made that there was a problem with the engine, and hence departure would be delayed. Being a German train, I viewed this with some suspicion, and so I wandered the track until I found a group of rail employees standing in lively discussion. Some stealthy eavesdropping revealed the true story (there is no doubt in my mind that each of them spoke both French and German fluently, as well as probably half a dozen other languages - the Europeans always have my absolute respect on this front. But the eavesdropping was possible because the entire conversation was conducted in English: I'm guessing because the German would not conduct it in French, and of course there was no way the French would deign to speak German, so English, as always, was the compromise): the train was supposed to have been cleaned after arriving from Munich earlier in the day, but had not (presumably it arrived during one of the many French rail staff breaks or strikes). And of course now, as it would require them to actually do some work, the French were insisting that it was almost departure time so there was nothing for it than for the doors to be unlocked, everybody to be allowed on, and the train simply leave uncleaned. The lone German rail representative was having none of it and was facing down a dozen French on his own with stout Teutonic resolve, saying that the instant the train crossed the border into Germany and returned to his authority, he would stop it immediately and drag them all the way back across the country to clean it, so do your bloody job. A classic European impasse 1,000+ years in the making. As it would also have meant no replenishment of stocks and thus no beer on board for the 11 hour ride to Munich, I was firmly on the German side here. Eventually the French surrendered as they inevitably do and grumbled off to clean the train.
What happened next was yet another reminder of why you travel. About 15 minutes into the cleaning, inside the carriage I happened to be sitting in front of (which had already been passed through by the efficient French cleaning squad), a disheveled head popped up & looked blearily out the window. Then a drunken passenger, clearly having only just woken up from the previous journey despite the train having arrived hours ago, lurched down the corridor, opened the door from the inside & stumbled off up the platform into the Paris night. This naturally sparked the crowd to rush for the door, and hundreds of people, concerned at missing out, crammed immediately onto the train through this one door. The German rail guard, face now red, fronted the French group, asking the not unreasonable question of how, in their definition of "cleaning", they had missed such a leftover feature as a body. However we were all already on board & after some minutes mob rule won out, and the announcement came that the train would be departing in 5 minutes, don't worry about which ticket or seat, just get on. Which just goes to show that German order may trump French laziness, but being drunk is always best in the end.
And with that cheering thought it's time for a special one-off message from the great Jerry Springer: 'til next time, take care of yourselves.....and each other.
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