They gathered at the Place d’Italie starting at 10am, with their frites-merguez stands, giant balloons, and flatbed-mounted sound systems blasting out music.
They filed past my window chanting into their bull horns, setting flares and small piles of garbage alight, and exploding loud fire crackers every few minutes until it finally passed at about 6:30pm.
This is my neighborhood in the wake of the march. The building I live in has been egged. The cinemas and most of the small shops were closed all day to avoid vandalism. It was nearly impossible to walk my dogs, who were already stressed out all day from the noise, worse than Bastille Day fireworks (and although it seemed pointless considering the amount of trash everywhere, I still picked up after my dogs, merci). It was also impossible to work. Some of us don’t get paid if we can’t work, ahem.
And are these people going to come around and scrape off all of their stickers that ended up plastered all over the buildings, street signs, cars and shop windows on my street? Are they the ones who will pay to clean up the streets? Somehow I doubt that (my tax euros at work). It will probably take a Karcher to do the job. And I know what else they can do with one of those while they’re at it….
