Monday, September 8, 2014
The fallout from Valerie Trierweiler's book continues, with Marine Le Pen of the Front Nationale ("FN") coming in second to Hollande's third place in most polls for president in 2017. The center-right, represented by the Union Pour Une Mouvement Populaire ("UMP"), just ended its yearly conference, held in La Baule. The right is arguing with itself about whether the election for party president will function as a coronation of the presidential candidate in the next election or be just a leadership contest. Among the leading candidates, despite having been indicted for political corruption, Nicolas Sarkozy has regained ground with much of France's traditional conservatives, even as Alain Juppé and François Fillon do their best to shape public perception to their advantage: Juppé speaking of the renewal of a party committed to Gaullist values and firmly opposed to the anti-immigrant stance of the FN, Fillon focusing on the shortcomings of François Hollande.
And Sarkozy? He speaks publicly of making his decision at the end of September, of his continued "star power", particularly among young conservatives. As to the objections to his return to politics his singer wife, Carla Bruni, is said to harbor, he replies, "I do not tell Carla not to sing, and she's not going to tell me not to run." Some say pursuing the party presidency could only hurt him --as it did Valèry Giscard d'Estaing earlier-- but Sarkozy dismisses the objection, noting that GDE was already an untenable candidate when he assumed the leadership, and that he, Sarkozy, needs to have a machine behind him to meet the challenges of the opposition.
Meanwhile, everyone not in the comfortable world of the nantis --the well-off-- is managing as best they can. What I see every time I drive somewhere in the day are lots of hitchhikers.
Now hitchhiking is something I associate with my youth, so many years ago. It was feckless to stick out one's thumb if you were a woman alone, so I hitchhiked with two male classmates from Harvard for protection. I only did it once, and the insistence of the truck driver that I sit between him and one of my classmates in the front seat of the cab, demonstrated to me that even with male company, going places by thumb could be fraught.
However, in the Aude it is a common mode of transport. I picked up a woman on one occasion, and an older man on another. In the first case, she was hitchhiking from Villegly --one village over towards Carcassonne-- to the tax office in the town. The mother of four children, all born when she was quite young, she was barely in her forties and stylishly dressed. An artist, she lived in Villegly with her husband and was quite self-possessed. "I don't take a ride if I think there's something questionable about the person offering one" she said by way of explaining how she addresses the risk she might run into trouble in a car. I've seen her hitchhiking two more times since the first time I dropped her off.
I can't explain why I picked up the man on the outskirts of Narbonne. He was dressed in a blue and green vertically striped short-sleeved shirt and a pair of khaki cargo pants, hair longish, gray and blond, with a beard and glasses, carrying a black duffle bag. It was a very sunny day, the sun bearing down on the outpost of the road where he positioned himself. Beau was in the front seat, so I told him to get into the back. It took him a minute or two to figure out how to drop the other seat to get his duffle bag in without having to open the trunk, but we were soon on our way. Here is his story:
"I am from Belgium originally. I did a lot of different types of work. I divorced my wife a few years ago and that is when I became marginalized. I am a member of the Compagnons d'Emmaus --here's my card with my photograph-- and I was in Narbonne, but they're full and I couldn't stay any longer. So I want to get to Montpellier, where I hope they will be able to take me in.
"I've been on the road four nights, sleeping little. I hunker down at gas stations, because the people who run them let me sleep there, but I'm really tired of doing that. Since you're only going part of the way in direction Montpellier, if you'll let me off at the gas station that's coming up, that would be great. Gas stations are good places to pick up rides. Thank you for picking me up."
I tried to give the man a box of cookies I had in the back, but he wouldn't take them--
"They'll be wasted on me. Keep them. Thanks for the ride."
I almost picked up another woman, but then I realized she was a prostitute, working the highway, probably Eastern European. She was just as surprised as I was by the contact, for different reasons, no doubt. As I drew up, I saw she didn't have a sign --most hitchhikers do-- and realized what she was up to and sped away.
Thinking about these encounters, I'm reminded of European roads of an earlier time, when camp followers, brigands, highwaymen, deserters and the down on their luck made up the flotsam and jetsam of European conflicts. The European wars displaced thousands, if not millions. My hitchhikers are not dangerous types, but they are people living by their wits.
Which is very French, it seems to me. Yesterday after Mass, I was approached by Madame Marie de Soos, whose farm in Laure grows organic grapes for wine, grains like millet and sorghum, as well as managing an orchard of almond trees. One of her many grandchildren in tow (she has nine children, all married and propagating), we chatted.
"What do you devote yourself to while you're here, Marta?"
I explained that I was writing a blog for English speakers about life in France, which kept me busy part of the time, and that I found that just managing the house could be quite time-consuming.
"Well, we are harvesting the almonds this week, and could use more hands. If you want to join us --we have an intern from Ohio , a delightful young man, and a young woman from Hungary-- you could help us with the harvest.
Of course, I accepted.
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