Oh, France

Une grève 

You're not going to make this easy on me are you France? 
The most important word I've learned this month just happens to be "une grève" or in English "strike". We are three weeks into October and there's already been around four strikes, maybe more.  As most of you have probably heard or read at some point, the French government has decided to increase the retirement age by two years...the French are not happy.  A strike is quite a site to see.  Men and women crowd the town center and march along the streets to protest an injustice: flags are waved, fliers are strewn about and thrown into the air like confetti, and smoke fills the sky as flares and fireworks erupt.  Every impacted group bands together: teachers, train conductors, garbage men, everything stops for a nationwide protest.  It's quite an inspiring and extremely democratic act.

I've heard several times that, as an American, I just will not understand the importance of a strike.  This is true; I don't understand.  When have Americans felt the need to strike or carried out a strike successfully...not often, but the French, it seems accept the terms of a strike.  I, on the other hand find it to be a bit of a hassle.  I mean, I am American and like I'm told, I just don't understand.  I have yet to go to work on a Monday because of one thing or another and this week it was because of a strike.  It's seems strange to me to wait in a train station surrounded by unperturbed Frenchmen.  How are they not frustrated that the trains they rely on everyday are not running?  I applaud their acceptance of these apparently frequent occurrences.  Oh well, I guess the only thing to do is leave the train station and grab a pastry on the way home...