Racaille

After being abused again and again by the outrageous beer prices, we wanted to go to the 'cheaper' part of the city in hopes of finding a pub with remotely normal pricetags. We did in fact find such a bar, but we also stumbled upon a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Earlier in the evening the French government officially announced that Nicolas Sarkozy had won the Presidential election. He is the leader of the UMP, France's largest center/right political party, and he defeated Socialist Ségolène Royal.

Socialists absolutely despise Sarkozy. They call him a Bush clone, and around here that's a truly hateful insult. After the announcement Royal's supporters started to gather in Place de la Bastille to protest. By pure coincidence our target 'cheaper' pubs were in the area...

Walking up the steps out of the Metro at around 22:30, we ran into a crowd of people and initally thought we had found an outdoor concert or festival. It didn't take but half a minute to realize that something was very wrong. Almost everyone--hundreds of people--were standing relatively quiet looking toward the other side of the Place. In another area not so far away people were moving fast doing something strange. A third portion of the square was totally empty. Looking across the emptiness we saw a squad of heavily armored riot police.

I found out later that the group of protesters 'doing something strange' were actually collecting and throwing cobblestones and bottles at the police. Not a good idea. We were standing in the crowd for no more than five minutes when we saw what looked like low flying bottle rockets shot from the police over our heads. Tear gas.

I don't know exactly what sort of 'riot control agent' was used, but it was not fun. Almost instantly tears started flowing out of my eyes like they were water faucets. I didn't know that was even possible. Worse, and longer lasting, my throat started stinging with a pain worse than any sore throat I have ever experienced.

Like everyone else, we ran. Unfortunately we picked the wrong road because the wind carried the gas right along behind us. I caught a good whiff of the gas, but the guys who were up front were choking nonstop. Eventually we reached a point where we could breathe normally and we turned down a side street toward a large boulevard. This is when things got interesting...

Most of the protesters had regrouped on Rue de Lyon, forming a line facing north toward Place de la Bastille. The police were also in a line approximately 50m in front of them. Neither line was moving and the protesters were chanting something about Sarkozy. Apparently the police were not advancing because they were giving the crowd a chance to disperse without more trouble.

The protesters were not ready to call it a night. Slowly their chants grew louder and more forceful. They started tipping over trash and recycle bins. Then, at the front of the crowd, I heard a popping sound. I'd call it similar to the sound made when you uncork a quality French wine. The sound of breaking windows. The police immediately started advancing and the crowd started retreating.

I have to say the next hour and a half was nothing less than a carefully choreographed performance. Once the window breaking started the protesters would work their way down the boulevard, methodically breaking almost every window. At some point they would stop with the windows and re-form a front line. The police would also stop a stone's throw away (literally). The chants and yells would commence and gradually build up. Sometimes they would light trash on fire. Then, once again, the Pop Pop Pop of windows.

We watched the riot work its way down the boulevard from the doorway of a pub that unbelievably stayed open during the entire riot. When the protesters got too close we left, but the bartender stayed with a handful of patrons to weather the storm. As a side note, we were happy to see that the prices were much more reasonable, just as we had been told.

Here you can see a fire in the distance. The police are just on the other side of the fire. Sorry I don't have better pics but I didn't feel like getting arrested.

The protesters were infiltrated by countless undercover cops. This was common knowledge and it was the reason why the protesters behaved in such a controlled manner. They knew exactly what they could get away with: breaking windows and starting trash fires. Looting, torching cars and buildings, attacking bystanders--these actions would have resulted in arrest and jail time.

The protesters thought we were cops (and told us so) because we were watching and not chanting. Once they found out we were American they were very intrigued by our presence. They seemed pleased to have outsiders--particularly Americans--watching them struggle against their own goverment. They must have felt that their effort to attract attention was actually working.

No one was at all hostile towards us Americans. In fact, they were quite friendly, and this shouldn't surprise anyone. Minorities here in Europe dream of a place where they can live the way they want and not have to conform to a foreign society. They believe that in America they can climb as high as they dare and no one will push them down. The American Dream is alive and well. Their words, not mine.

Now I know that riots are a terrible way to promote a cause, but it was still easy to sympathize with their plight. Ancestry means everything here. If your father wasn't a natural born citizen then you are an outsider and in many small ways you will suffer as a result. No one even bothers to deny this and some actually believe that's the way it should be. These racaille protesters were already on edge and now Sarkozy, a politician with a 'tough' attitude toward immigration, is their newly elected President.