Registering to vote
Since I was doing admin I printed off several justificatifs de domicile, photocopied my passport a couple of times and set off with a jaunty step.
That didn't last long. Bordeaux is in turmoil because the tram system needs major maintenance, so our wonderfully convenient tram C and A that would normally sweep me smoothly to the Town Hall is not running. Tram C stops at the Gare Saint-Jean.
So I got off, intending to take bus 1 that would drop me behind the town hall. As I walked round the tram a woman said, "Monsieur, c'est le terminus, ce tramway s'arrète ici" "Oui, et du coup je prends le bus.." I replied, wondering why this public-spirited citizen felt the need to warn me.
Anyway, the world, his wife, their three kids and their dogs and cats were all waiting for the number 1 bus, so I decided to hoof it. My route took me through the glorious Marché des Capucins. Pat and I have decided that we must visit this market from time to time but we have not done so. Modern life, eh... I paused to admire the wonderful fruits de mer, so beautiful, so nicely arranged that I almost wished I ate the stuff. Almost.
After some kilometres under the blazing sun I got to the town hall and the man checked my bag for guns, knifes, bombs and chemical agents.
"Quel service?"
"Les listes electorales, porte 7."
The man pondered a little then said, "Allez-y"
The sole occupant of the service electoral was signing up a charming family recently moved form Brest. I looked round the office. There were removal crates everywhere. There was also a fascinating A3 sign saying "MUR Lamentation".
Eventually the family were all sorted and they wandered off. We chatted about Brexit, about European elections, about taking French nationality, about football and rugby, about offices that move from one room to another and then back again, and about administration.
There we are. My card will come in March and the next municipal elections are in May.
That didn't last long. Bordeaux is in turmoil because the tram system needs major maintenance, so our wonderfully convenient tram C and A that would normally sweep me smoothly to the Town Hall is not running. Tram C stops at the Gare Saint-Jean.
So I got off, intending to take bus 1 that would drop me behind the town hall. As I walked round the tram a woman said, "Monsieur, c'est le terminus, ce tramway s'arrète ici" "Oui, et du coup je prends le bus.." I replied, wondering why this public-spirited citizen felt the need to warn me.
Anyway, the world, his wife, their three kids and their dogs and cats were all waiting for the number 1 bus, so I decided to hoof it. My route took me through the glorious Marché des Capucins. Pat and I have decided that we must visit this market from time to time but we have not done so. Modern life, eh... I paused to admire the wonderful fruits de mer, so beautiful, so nicely arranged that I almost wished I ate the stuff. Almost.
After some kilometres under the blazing sun I got to the town hall and the man checked my bag for guns, knifes, bombs and chemical agents.
"Quel service?"
"Les listes electorales, porte 7."
The man pondered a little then said, "Allez-y"
The sole occupant of the service electoral was signing up a charming family recently moved form Brest. I looked round the office. There were removal crates everywhere. There was also a fascinating A3 sign saying "MUR Lamentation".
Eventually the family were all sorted and they wandered off. We chatted about Brexit, about European elections, about taking French nationality, about football and rugby, about offices that move from one room to another and then back again, and about administration.
There we are. My card will come in March and the next municipal elections are in May.
Comments