Of Protests and Lunch... France (Fall Sessions 2010)

 

Time for lunch! 

 Late one morning during the October trip, we made our way down to Angoulême to pick up our niece Kara, a warm addition to mark the close of another fine visit in the countryside. It was her first time in France, and we were anxious to show as much as her limited time would allow. Thus, we were taken a bit back when she called saying her train had been halted on the tracks, just outside a small town I knew to not be very far away. It soon became apparent that there were people laying on the rails, an off shoot of the labor strife that France had been dealing with across the country for several weeks. We'd been relatively untouched, only one day having had to search longer than usual for a functioning gas station. As we rolled into Angoulême's tiny regional gare that day we were more amused than shocked to find not only protesters, but also helmeted, shield carrying riot police, most of whom appeared much younger than they probably were, and not happy at all to be in the present situation.
 Always firmly on the side of any people's right to freely express themselves, we did, however, have a large interest in getting Kara safely in our presence. This seemed in doubt, as an older contingent of police in plain clothes (as much as "acid washed" jeans can be called plain clothes) had shuttered the station to prevent further bodies ending up on the rails. As the stand off stretched into the second hour, a bit of cultural magic took place: lunch! The manager of the café de la gare arrived with boxes of baguettes, cheese, saucisson, wine, and water, telling all who would listen that it was after noon, and as such clearly past time for lunch. On cue, all signs and placards were put down, hands quickly filled with food. The shutters rattled up, allowing for us to slide into the station where four TGV arrived in rapid succession, bodies flowing out as seldom seen in the small space. Somehow we spotted Kara, before bumping and winding our way through the crowd to the car park. It was not lost on us that each of the police seemed to also have lengths of baguettes stuffed full with meat and cheese, evidently an offering made evenly to both sides.
 That was enough to inspire us, as we took to the old, walled part of the medieval city for sandwiches of thick sliced ham and gooey Camembert, cold draft Kronenbourg's within reach. Warmed by a shaft of Autumn sun, we sat on the cobbled side walk before the grand market structure whose glass and iron work reflect the signature of the building's designer, Gustave Eiffel (He of the "Tower" fame.). We had a good laugh over the "drama", and decided on another beer before heading off, choosing to take the "long way" home. Once free of the city, the landscape had a quieting affect, a portrait of the season: Fields being turned by farmers appeared like ground coffee in various hues, broken at intervals by "islands" of woods vibrant in leaves of turning color, all washed in a  warm light. A good thing to share.

(http://www.chez-gautier.com)