august in france

We've moved on to the the month of August already, and I just realized that I haven't written since the 23rd of July!
August is a special month in France, one could almost call it a holy month, holy in the way that something sacred is holy. And so, you ask me, what is sacred during this, the 8th month of our calendar, the month that the emperor Auguste decided to name after himself? Well, my dear friends, it is vacation time that is sacred!
It used to be that entire factories closed down and stopped functioning during the merry month of august - and everyone, that is, all those who had a job, or money to spend, or both, went away. But where did they all go? I sometimes have visions of the entire country's population leaping into the sea ( and there is a lot of sea to jump into around France) - emptying the country of all its inhabitants like in a good, bad catastrophe movie.
Now, to be fair, the idea of a paid vacation for all, arose in the 30's, under the Socialist government called the Popular Front, which government did indeed do wonders to defend and protect workers and all of the masses of the un-wealthy. The first paid vacation was created - for one week - in August, and thousands and thousands of people took off on their bicycles, in buses, in trains, on foot, to go to camps for workers, or to the sea or to the mountains; anywhere that was away from their work and the tedium of 6 day weeks. The creation of paid vacation and other forms of social aide was the great accomplishment of the 1930's in Europe and, to a lesser degree, in the United States - but the French seem to have taken the concept of a paid vacation very quickly to heart.
Years passed, the economic situation of France vastly improved after WW II, and, little by little, with different movements and political changes, the amount of paid vacation has accrued to a non -modest five full weeks a year, (not including various days off for national holidays). To my knowledge the only country which has more paid vacation is Germany, which has six weeks, instead of five.
The problem is, that until quite recently, everyone took their vacations at the same time. The French, in spite of a desire to appear to be individualistic and non - conformist ( as in not wanting to obey certain laws that seem to infringe on the idea of personal liberty, like wearing a seat-belt or not smoking in public places) are, in fact, an incredibly conformist people. Lunchtime is at noon, dinner is at 8, cheese is at the end of a meal, and god forbid you don't eat things in the right order ( oh, we'll have to talk about food soon, won't we). Surely, there was a practical reason to have everyone go on vacation at the same time, but to an American, the idea of closing down a business; a shop, a restaurant, or A FACTORY, for several weeks, seems incomprehensible.
Paris is famous for being empty of its citizens during the month of August : who are all those people walking around? Tourists. Lines are shorter at museums, there are no traffic jams, ( it is not for nothing that the mayor of Paris began his ingenious new idea of bikes for rent everywhere in the month of August) and hotels are cheaper, believe it or not.
Here in the backwaters of provincial France (for Toulouse, although a city by most standards, is not a capital) the 'charm' of a quieter and calmer urban environment turns into a stultifying and, at least for me, depressing deadness. The mayor of Toulouse has copied the mayor of Paris, and has made public street parking free for the first half of the month - trouble is there is no one around to park their car - half the shops are closed, the streets are empty of crowds and the vague hum of human activity that seems to hover over a city during most of the year is gone.

Ten days ago, I had a very bad back pain that lasted for three days. I went to see my local doctor ( now he is an exception, since he takes his vacation after school begins, but that is because he is older, and prefers to go away when flights are cheaper and being a bit of a snob, when there are fewer people around to bother him). He gave me a prescription for x-rays, since I was a little nervous and wanted to make sure that it wasn't anything serious. I called my clinic where I usually get x-rays and other things of that order done, and got a message that told me to have a good vacation and that they would see me at the end of the month. So I pulled out my trusty yellowpages and started to call the other places that are not at the opposite end of the city and to my great surprise, I discovered that there aren't that many radiology clinics altogether. The second one I called, a secretary answered and told me that they were closing the next day for two weeks. The third one gave me a recording that also told me of their good fortune to be on vacation and yes, they would be back in another two weeks. The fourth one didn't tell me anything at all since there was no message - just a phone that kept ringing. It was the fifth one that did answer, gave me an appointment for two days later, and then had me wait two hours before taking me in.
As I sat in the waiting room, I wondered how many others were there because their "usual" clinic was closed. Now, of course, I know that I could have gone to the emergency room of one of the hospitals or private clinics that do function, if with a reduced staff, all the time. But my condition did not warrant such a dramatic choice. It did make me wonder though, about a society that is capable of slowing things down to such an extent that the pulse of its life seems to be barely there. For those away on vacation, the rhythm is very different - but for those who choose to or must stay home, either because they don't have the means to go away, or because they do have to work, the city seems to reject them as unwanted and annoying reminders of what there is not.
I live in a part of the city that could be considered to be suburb - just on the fringe of the urban environment, but far from the main center. And it is not by chance that I avoid going into the center as much as I can. At least here, in my little garden, watching my cat play or sleep, listening to some birds chattering away on the phone line in front of the house ( now there is a population that wouldn't understand the concept of vacation) I can pretend that the world out there is as usual. I can't wait until the end of the month, when everyone comes home and the parking lots are full again.