Laury and I made a trip to Figeac yesterday to run a few errands. We wanted to check out the Saturday morning market, hit the ATM (le distributor), pick up a few items at the small grocery store in town, buy watercolor paper, etc. As we got off the bus, we heard a commotion up the street and then, music. Suddenly, Laury remembered: it was STRIKE day! We hot-footed it up the street in time to catch the end of the march (le manifestation). Workers, their families, and other sympathizers marched down the town's main boulevard carrying placards and flags. I saw one flag that looked like it had a picture of Che Guevera on it...as I looked closer, it did! Not sure what Che has to do with all this French strike stuff, but the flags and the marchers tugged at my ex-hippie heart. For half a second, I contemplated joining in and marching with them in solidarity! That may or may not have been good for French-American relations, so I refrained. It was exciting to see the politics of le greve, the strike, in action.And we still had time to get all our errands done including a stop at the bakery for a chocolate-y treat to eat while we waited for our bus.