Some might say that the national sport of France is football. (Soccer to my American friends.) Some might say that it is drinking wine or eating cheese. My response to all three of these options is- HA. I know their sport of choice and is a good old fashioned strike complete with signs, face paint, yelling, and parades.
My parents had a really lovely experience with the strikes in France while they visited. You may have heard that the french government recently changed the retirement age from 60 to 62. Those 2 years really infuriated a lot of people here sooooo.. they went on strike. For about 3 weeks. And it started right when we needed to hop on a train to Italy.
About a month before, John and I had gone to Italy and bought the tickets from Ventimiglia (the first stop in Italy) to Venice. All we needed was a way to get from Nice to Ventimiglia that did not include a train. At about 7pm the night before we left, when we found out the strike was continuing the next morning, John started the search for a way to get there. After about 2 hours of searching, trying to decide if we wanted to leave that night instead of the next morning, deciding if it would be easier just to take a cab the 45 minute drive into Italy; my sweet husband found a way to get there.
We woke up at 4:45am the next morning, got ready, and zipped up our suitcases to catch a bus at 5:30am to the center of Nice. Where we caught another bus at 6:15am to Menton. Where we caught a cab into Ventimiglia and actually made it to our train at 8:45. I even had time to walk to a bakery and get some breakfast.
We finally made it to Venice that afternoon. Longest day of my life. Until the next week when we came home.
Oh France. Please find a new national sport.