The week after the national election in France we walked from Cahors to Moissac in southeast France along the Way of St. James (the GR 65, Le Chemin de St. Jacques de Compostelle), a distance of about 80 kms (50 miles) over four days. The walk went from the department of the Lot to the department of the Tarn-et-Garonne. Cahors includes a beautifully preserved medieval district, and some very good places to eat. Moissac is famous for its 12th Century cloister with over 70 beautifully carved capitals and an imposing tympanum over the door to the abbey church. In between, we walked through handsome, rolling, agricultural countryside, planted in vines, fruit trees and grain. Along the way are the lovely towns of Montcuq and Lauzerte. The food was uniformly very good (of course). Both the built and natural environments are wonderful. The residential real estate is inexpensive (I would guestimate at around $150 per square foot, from my perusal of the listings in the windows of the real estate agent offices along the way). So, what’s the problem?
I write this, against the background of the ground war in Eastern Europe not 2,000 land miles away. As we walked, the war could have been on another planet. I did have a nagging concern about being vaporized without warning while on the pilgrimage. But it didn’t happen. And the peace of the French countryside was yet another thing about which to be grateful.
Before leaving for our trip, I followed the French national election in the New York Times. One read of a tremendous public personal dislike for the winner, Emmanuel Macron, a centrist, who leads a political party he founded for the purpose of advancing his career. His opponent in the final round of the election was Marie La Pen, the scion of the nationalist, anti-immigrant party, who he defeated handily, after a great deal of advance media hand ringing. The traditional Socialist and Christian Democratic parties are no longer factors. Perhaps the most powerful political vector in France of recent years was the mouvement des gilets jaunes, the yellow vests – catalyzed by an increase in gas prices four years ago (and, of course, they hadn’t seen anything yet, with even higher fuel prices yet to come as Russian gas gets turned off). The yellow vests had a list of grievances familiar to Americans – rising prices, resistance to perceived cultural changes, particularly thought to be due to immigration, anger at a powerful political and cultural elite seemingly out of touch and disdainful of “ordinary” French citizens, and a sense of declining economic fortunes.
Personally, Macron is a clear winner in the French national meritocratic sweepstakes. He a graduate of elite schools. He worked in international investment banking. His economic/technocratic strength is that he gets what that institutional restraints are on future French economic growth and has tried to reform them – sclerotic labor and pension systems in particular. Changing those expensive, inflexible systems certainly gores the ox of the non-elite, rural French family – in the name of long-run economic dynamism. Most recently he proposed raising the national retirement age to 65 from 62. Quelle horreur!
The one thing we heard from people we talked with in La France Profonde (the French heartland), in the person mostly of hotel, restaurant and business operators (the people with whom a tourist would tend to come into contact) was the difficulty in getting people to work for them. One hotel-restaurant we ate at and stayed in converted to take out only, because of the difficulty the owners found in keeping service and kitchen staff. We were told that employees tended to be cavalier about attendance, wanted to set their own hours and often quit without notice when the spirit moved them.
Moissac, the destination of the walk (population 13,000), struck me as a somewhat gritty little town, with a larger immigrant population than any of the places through which we had previously walked. On a Sunday and Monday of the weekend of May 1 (the French labor day), the town had only one open place to eat. Because of the Abbey and Cloister, it is a major stop on the Way of Saint James, so quite a few walkers come through the town. It didn’t have much charm, although the riverfront and canal du midi are nice features.
This is in contrast with Lauzerte, only 23 km (17 miles) away; a very attractive, highly manicured medieval hilltop village – advertised as one of the fifty most beautiful villages in France (pop. 1,500). There were fancy renovations going on throughout the town. The well-maintained facades were nearly uniformly medieval and renaissance. The retail district lay outside and below the historic district, which was located on the top of a hill. From peering through gates and looking at photos in real estate offices (with English names), the houses seemed to be stylishly decorated and to be either second or retirement homes. Montcuq (pop 1,200), about 13 km (8 miles) from Lauzerte, was another well maintained hilltop village, which we found to be more authentic – with cafes, bakeries and butcher shops actually in the town. It also had a very charming English language bookstore (https://www.livresbooksandcompany.com) and a tall 13th century keep. Both appeared to be great places and superb towns in which to live.
So, what’s the problem? Why so cranky? I would argue that the French have it pretty good! And, it’s important to point out, immigration is essential to the French labor market and economy – because the French have a birthrate of 1.87, against a generally acknowledged replacement rate of 2.1. Part of the it may be the discontent caused by the increasing wage and wealth inequality of the West, amplified by the media ubiquity of the wealthy and their stuff. You see these other people with their private planes and yachts and wonder why they have them and you don’t. This is especially obvious in France, the very home of luxury goods. Two of the highest profile billionaires in France are François-Henri Pinault and Bernard Arnault (the third wealthiest person in the world and the wealthiest in Euope), both of whom are highly visible in French media and derive their wealth from the sale of luxury goods.
Also, contributing the dissatisfaction is sense of loss of traditional French culture, generated by media about both immigration and the growing distance between a perceived, internationalist cultural elite, exemplified by Macron, Pinault and Arnault. But as an American spending time outside of Paris, that perception seems exaggerated. What’s great about provincial France (and I use that term without the intent of any pejorative connotation), is its cultural uniqueness expressed through food, wine, language and the built environment. Walking the GR 65 (part of a system of walking paths through France called Les Grandes Randonnée [the great routes]) gives the pilgrim a deep sense of history, and particularly religion and spirituality. It comes simply from being in the space. The feelings are inchoate, but powerful. I would advise the French not to worry. Their cultural “brand” is secure, unique and important (as well as marketable). An outsider does not perceive its being diluted.
In sum, from a ten-day visit by a tourist, the French seem to have it pretty good, and they should (like our fellow similarly aggrieved Americans) stop whining. This is true particularly in light of what’s going on in Ukraine. Now, no one likes to be called a whiner and being a card-carrying member of the international elite, advice from such as me to the French working class is sure to be unwelcome, to say the least. But we need to figure out the messaging as to how to make the culturally discontented feel more positive about their lot. This is worth a great deal more thought. I suspect it has something to do with asking people how they are doing, right at this moment, as opposed to about abstract problems other people might seem to have, or hypothetical problems off into the future. I’d be interested to ask a member of the yellow vests: “How is your life. How are your food, housing, health care? What do you enjoy on television and the internet? What else do you do in your spare time?”
Two other brief notes. Things also seemed pretty great in Paris. I saw very few empty retail storefronts. The streets were clean. The presence of the clochards (homeless) was minimal, and non-existent in the crowded Metro. Lots of young people are riding bikes and scooters in the protected bike lanes built by the much loathed Mayor Anne Hidalgo (who is said to be more popular in New York than in Paris) all over central Paris. The city was hopping in many places at night, with kids jamming bars and restaurants. I particularly enjoyed seeing a diverse group of a couple of dozen young people who had set up a speaker in a plaza in a commercial area on the right bank to dance (traditional social dancing, at that) very late at night. We ate in a new restaurant run by the famous Bras family in former stock exchange building restored and developed by Pinault. Our visit to the Louvre was marred by the lines and crowds on entering and leaving the building and in the Italian Renaissance galleries (thank you brother Leonardo). Paris generally struck me as clean, safe, vibrant and fun. And, in the past, I have generally not been a fan of the place, preferring the French countryside.
I would be remiss in not highlighting the night we spent in Le Clos de Gamel, in Lascabanes slightly off of the Chemin. We ended up there because we split one of the usual walking days set by our excellent travel agent (https://followthecamino.com/en/), in order to attempt to keep each day’s walking to less than 25km, and they had to find a place between their usual accomodations – particularly challenging as we made our arrangements late in the season. They found Le Clos de Gamel, which is the family farm of David and Christelle Bernadou, to which they have added over the years. It has accommodations in several buildings and features a pool and hot tub – much appreciated after a long day of walking – and not a regular feature of places to stay along The Way. The Bernadous were gracious hosts, served us a wonderful house-made aperitive and red wine (from their vineyard) – along with a delicious dinner. It was quite a find, and is much recommended – even as a destination in itself, for those not traveling on the Chemin.
Downtown St. Louis has made as little progress in urban revitalization as any big city downtown I have been visiting over the last twenty-five years, despite a number of high-profile projects, like Union Station, and the continued success in a number of other St. Louis neighborhoods, like the Central West End, Grand Center, Lafayette Park and Laclede’s Landing. It is significant that the Downtown does come alive, to a certain extent, on the nights of Cardinals games. But when there is no game, both at night and during the day, the streets and sidewalks of the Downtown are dead.