OCTOBER 8 - 12, 2001: Paris is glorious -- the first morning, jet-lagged, we head over to the Musee d'Orsay. It is 10:30, should have opened at 10, yet a crowd of people is by the door. As we join them, some workers tape a sign to the door: "Due to a staff strike, the Musee is closed." It turns out the French workers are striking over the application of the new 35-hour work week -- they are concerned that the implementation of this law will not be prompt enough to allow them to enjoy it immediately. The strike lasts until we leave, Musee d'Orsay, Musee Rodin et all unseen.
A compliment to this, in the Europe WSJ, is a very funny article on the French military. Apparently, despite blustery announcements of participation in the American coalition (for the first Iraq war), the French have little to contribute, as their military program is in a shambles, with their new, multi-billion dollar aircraft carrier still in dry dock, years behind schedule. It would appear that the Navy workers share some traits with their Musee compatriots. Still, Paris is mesmerizing; we stay in the Latin Quarter, marvel at the few sights not affected buy the strike, pose in front of Notre Dame, and see what it is like to split a carafe of wine at lunch. After which, needless to say, the rest of the day passes with the effort and dedication of the French labor force.
Leaving Paris after three days, we have changed our itinerary -- so as not to be mistaken for disguised Navy Seals sneaking through Istanbul to Kabul -- and are headed to Greece. Our first flight is late, our second delayed enough that we miss the connection, and spend several hours in the Athens airport. Let me briefly say that every day there is not a riot at the Athens airport defies all I know about human nature. We talk our way into the frequent flyers lounge for Olympic Airlines (and only a airline with a great sense of humor or hubris would choose to call this the "Icarus Club"). We arrive in Rhodes, a island far East, to now work our ways Westward.
on to turkey...
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