Vive la greve! Actually, don't.

Hey cyberspace, remember when I used to update like every day? In other words, I apologize for not keeping you up to date on my fabulous Parisian life; I don't really have a good excuse for my slacking other than that I've been very busy watching smart people parades. And by smart people parades, what I mean is la greve (cue dramatic music, as heard in urgent news updates etc.)

Since the beginning of the school year professors all over France have been on greve (strike), because...well, because of a lot of reasons I, not being French, don't understand. What I get out of it is that the government doesn't support research for the sake of research, valueing solid results a little too much and banishing whoever doesn't get enough of said results to teach. Which in itself is a big fat injustice, because teaching is in no way less difficult, necessary or noble than research. Anyway, as the French say, the government fait les betises (does dumb shit), and they've finally had enough. And in France when people have had enough, their first reaction is to manifester. So for several weeks now the professors, students, and pretty much anyone else with a taste for rebellion and nothing better to do has been marching through the streets with signs, chanting, singing, shouting (and disrupting my bus route because apparently Blvd. Montparnasse is the place to greve), and attracting a lot of policemen in full riot gear. I think they're required to put it on whenever anyone is manifesting, even if said manifesters are a bunch of latin and greek specialists from the Sorbonne. The other day Emily and I walked from Reid Hall to my house and the entire route (basically from Boulevard Raspail all the way past Les Gobelins) was lined with grevistes. They had signs which I think were trying to use the word fac (university) in place of fuck. I'm sure someone (from monde anglophone, no doubt) thought it was clever, but I didn't actually get it.

Another thing particular to the French system of greve-ing is that, although a professor might be on greve, that doesn't always stop them from coming to class. When they do come to class, however, they will proceed to teach you not about childhood in literature or whatever their given topic is, but about the greve itself. Judging by the reactions of the students in my Paris III class when the prof walked in on the first day and asked "So have you all been informed about the greve?" it's pretty common occurance, not to mention an annoying one. There are also some professors teaching "alternative classes"--same time, same place, different subject, and somehow even though they're on greve that's okay. Which I totally don't get. I also don't really understand what French students do when, like now, their professors are on greve for more than three weeks into the beginning of the semester. And now it's February vacation. And honestly, the semester's not that long so chances of making it up are fairly slim. Luckily Reid Hall has arranged things (to the best of it's abilities, anyway) so that we can all take most of our classes there.

Speaking of Reid Hall, I watched the most amazing(ly bad), unnecessarily sexual and gratuitously violent film I have EVER seen in my life the other day--La Reine Margot, based on the novel by Dumas which I obviously then had to go and read because it was just too awesomely ridicule to pass it up. I've been reading like crazy lately, which is probably why I've been getting nothing else productive done.

I have, however, been on two walking tours in Paris where I had "les vestiges" of the middle ages pointed out to me by our tour guide/professor Laurent, who is much more comprehensible when he has a time limit and can't blather for hours on end. One of the tours ended on rue Mouffetard right by my house, which was cool. Dumas also mentions rue Mouff in La Reine Margot, proving that it is in fact useful for something other than delicious crepes and wasting all my time on.

What else have I done? Well, I went to Lyon where I rode a huge ferris wheel and pissed off the workers by spinning the cage as fast as possible. We also saw an amazing basilica, some cobble-stoney streets and a huge and magnificent marche on the river banks with everything from fruit and flowers to fish heads. And other things that don't necessarily start with the letter F, but you know, the F ones were the best. Valerie is still in the hospital so this week involved a lot of Molly-cooking-for-herself. Which means I ate nimchows twice, but that wasn't even my idea so I cannot be blamed. We tried to go to the chateau de Vincennes which is apparently really cool, but we watched some really bad movies and were generally idiotic instead.

My life is pretty uneventful, but I'm leaving for Venice and Florence tomorrow, so that's all about to change. Maybe not though, since my objective on this trip is mainly to eat as much as I possibly can. Get ready for myriad horrendous photos and stories of craziness when I get back.

PS - I had the best dream of my LIFE in French the other night--I was Marguerite de Valois (too much Dumas before bed, I know) and Valerie was Catherine de Medicis and she kept trying to get me to call Guise (on my cellphone, because they had those in 1572) so I could seduce him for one of her ambitious political schemes. Just thought I'd share that, since I already told everyone I know in Paris, including Valerie.