Every year, comes August 1st, millions of French city dwellers engage in an ancient pagan ritual.
At the height of the summer season, they jump in their cars and head for sacred sites (the beaches) to worship Ra, the God of the Sun.
Like great animal migrations, they all depart at the exact same time to trek to overcrowded, overbooked and overpriced locations.
I said, “trek” because getting there is a long and arduous journey that should be planned like a military operation.
At the height of that period, French freeways are choked with cars, and after being trapped in traffic jams for a few hours, would-be vacationers are often reaching their breaking point. Like live grenades they are ready to explode.
On the Great Summer Exodus, human and mechanical wrecks litter the pilgrimage roads.
Watching this mess on television, I still wonder why everybody feels compelled to leave at the same time to go to places that are swarming with humanity.
Isn’t the whole purpose of a vacation to escape the madding crowds? To go to a quiet little place and decompress?
But the French (ah the Cultural Exception…) seem to delight gathering in overcrowded beaches and overpopulated restaurants.
There, the head of a family, finally reaching his breaking point will probably blow his top and make a scene.
Because the French are innate complainers. No matter what, they have to complain.
They cannot help it; it is in their genes.
But the nagging question remains: why don’t these fools take a vacation in April or September when resorts are less crowded and prices more reasonable?
The answer is likely to be “because of the kids”. During the summer the little darlings are granted a leave of absence from juvenile hall, and their parents (like it or not) feel obligated to spend a few days with them.
Personally I don’t think that none of the parties involved care much about this arrangement.
The kids resent their parents for preventing them from having a good time (smoking and drinking) and vice-versa. At least that was the way it was when I was a young lad.
The reasonable alternative to this dilemma could be summer camps.
You unload the kids to a summer camp and take a separate vacation. Jailbirds and jailers alike both need a reprieve.
But this solution might seem too simplistic for overwrought French thinkers.
To make life worthwhile, they occasionally need to atone for their innumerable sins, and family summer vacations are exactly the kind of penance they know they deserve.
Hence, the annual, immutable nerve-racking Great Summer Exodus!
Alain
