I’m planning on
heading to France with the kids this summer.
We picked an apartment there in Paris on the Seine that looks
comfortable, quiet. I had been thinking
about going to Israel. I liked the idea
of seeing something yet again more ancient than Rome or Athens with the
girls. I wasn’t deterred by the fact
that trouble was a possibility. But the
other three stakeholders in the annual travel Althing had pushed for France:
Lavender, deserts, language. The Dome of the Rock will have to wait.
It looks like Israel might have been the safer bet. Paris is of course flooded. The worst
flooding in many, many years, with the New York Times offering details of flood
and how it relates to all the other floods of the last century. This time the priceless collection on the first
floor of the Louvre has been moved to higher ground. I had my younger one read the article and we
discussed it: “Should we cancel the
trip?” “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be OK.”
Later that evening I shared the link to the apartment we’d
be staying at with my old friend. He
sent me a link to a clip of the protests that have apparently gripped the city
and the nation. Gas stations don’t have
fuel, and train workers have struck along with the workers in nuclear power
plants. Cities have power outages and
roads have been blocked. Perhaps those
train tickets I bought and that the car I was planning to rent may not be such
a good idea.
Perhaps I’m deluded but my base assumption is that this will
all be profoundly educational for my kids.
Workers are striking for a reason.
Students are taking to the streets for a reason. There is a long tradition of erecting
barricades in the French capital. There
is a long tradition of many of these things here in Beijing too. A tradition that has been notably tamped down
in this capital for the last twenty-five years.
I don’t want my kids breathing in tear gas or being pelted, but all of
these questions around strikes and protest should be powerful catalysts for
discussion.
Easy to rationalize and even idealize now, from the
tranquility, of old Beijing, though I wall most assuredly change my tune if I’m
stuck on a highway or a in a rail station for ten hours enduring a blow against
the tourist industry.
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