It was a weekend of rugby internationals and this being rugby country in France, the bars were full to watch the matches live on television. They weren't just full of French supporters either, there were supporters of all the 6 European nations taking part in the tournament as well as some of the many Antipodeans and South Africans that live over here making wine and playing rugby and, of course, the North Americans who all decide that they are Irish really. Mind you, it's St Patrick's Day next weekend, so everybody will suddenly find their 'Oirish' roots, to be sure.
The Irish bar in Carcassonne (there is an Irish bar in every town in the world, I think) is called O'Sheridans and is about a 60 second stroll down the hill from the apartment, which makes it both handy and dangerous at the same time. Unlike the Basque bar, referred to in an earlier post, which is clearly Basque, O'Sheridans is a strange mix of French and Irish, of bar and pub, a sports venue and a live music venue. It is a meeting place but not somewhere for a quiet chat.
The French owner always welcomes me with a handshake and a friendly "Ca va", but he obviously works on his muscles, has steel in his eyes, tattoos everywhere, a very large dog and a short temper. He is not a man that you want to annoy.
The Irish barmaid either welcomes me with a kiss on both cheeks or an insult - that's barmaids for you. She speaks fluent French and Irish but her English is a bit dodgy. She said that my blog finally got her off her arse to write her own - you can find her story at cacazone.blogspot.com
The rugby bought out the nationalism in us all. There was nothing aggressive or untoward, just boisterous, friendly banter and general bonhomie. A little joshing here and there but general agreement about who deserved to win or not and much commiseration and congratulation at the end of it all - an example of the power of sport to bring people together.
Well, all except for one conversation with a Canadian (who claims he is Northern Irish), who out of the blue started talking about the protection of one's nationality, which was quickly linked to Jean-Marie Le Pen, tests for immigrants to prove French nationality (they already exist in Britain in a similar form) and the crime problem in France. My mind raced through "What crime problem?" to how is that linked to immigration to what has that got to do with nationality and arrived at the following conclusion - "If that is true then you and I and all the other people who are non-French in this bar are responsible for the non-existent French crime wave and should be deported immediately back to where we came from" which I am glad to say doused his fire - but like all true fanatics, didn't stop him dead. He is probably expounding a similar but refined argument to someone else as we speak.
It's a similar tune to other ex-pats I've met here who are trying to justify their current abode. "I don't like London / England any more - it's full of immigrants" or "It's not like it used to be with all the foreigners there now". Wake up everybody - you are all now living in a different country to the one that you were born in, which technically makes you all immigrants too, so what is the point of your complaint, your argument. Maybe there is no point. Maybe they are moaning and complaining because it is human nature to do so - to see the worst in things rather than the best.
Me, I try to look on the positive side. England did beat France this weekend after all.
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