One day in France: 22 immersion match teams
On this D-Day chosen at random from the calendar, parachuted all over France, we wondered what the morale of our compatriots could be. In 1949, coming out of a trying war, France, which saw Paris Match appear, was content with “nothing”: peace. Seventy years later, the country seems like a mosaic that only grumbling and drama bring together.
The clock strikes 12:40 a.m. when, after driving 25 kilometers, Clémence and Geoffrey park in front of the Angers University Hospital. Seven decades ago, Paris Match extolled the merits of the presence of the husband during childbirth, “a psychological medicine”. This is now the norm. After the shower, short hair, round face, Clémence stretches out on yellow sheets. The night is going to be long. Seventy years earlier, a single “method of moral and physical relaxation” was offered to parturients. 2:04. Clemence smiled, the epidural worked.
To read: Discover the anniversary issue of Paris Match
For Cristel Ruiz, 42, butcher, the alarm clock rang at 3:30 a.m. In one of the largest Carrefour in France, near Aix-en-Provence, it takes him three hours to set up the charcuterie-cheese-rotisserie section, prepare this “ready-to-eat” which is always in high demand. Soon there will be 10,000 customers. The slices she cuts are, she says, getting thinner and thinner, because some, “more and more”, want to pay less.
5 hours In the Varangéville salt mine (Meurthe-et-Moselle). Photo: Pierre Terdjman
6h47 Michaël, 41, docker in Marseille, is also a painter and tattoo artist. Photo: Manuel Lagos Cid
It is 5 a.m., Varangéville is waking up. The commune of Meurthe-et-Moselle lives to the rhythm of its mine, the last in France. Helmet on the head, Denis Lhomme and Philippe Colombi, foreman, “cage” themselves in the narrow elevator which takes them 160 meters underground. “We are the last representatives of an era, underlines Denis. It's weird." Below, the dry air is iodized. In a deafening din, a shearer from the 1960s attacks the rock. “Before, regrets Denis, mining was a passion, a way of life. We were considered." It tells of the solidarity of men when it was necessary to relaunch the country, after the war. At present, they draw 450,000 tons of salt per year, most of which is used for snow removal. But for six years, there has been a crisis: "We no longer have winter."
In Cannes, it’s eternal summer. And the Festival! From 75,000 inhabitants in normal times, the city increases to 200,000. Yesterday, on the Croisette, its mayor was with Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt. It didn't turn his head. David Lisnard started his tour at 5 a.m. Back at his town hall office, this marathon runner reads the night's security report. Behind the glitter, Cannes remains a city of contrasts. Income gaps and generational differences are considerable. Incidentally, there is the only complete satellite manufacturing plant in Europe. Feet on the ground, head in the stars...
6h50 Stéphanie Roussel, biodynamic winemaker in Romestaing (Lot-et-Garonne). Photo: Claire Delfino
7:07 a.m. Stéphanie Maubé, 39, sheep breeder in Saint-Germain-sur-Ay (Manche). Photo: Eric Hadj
"I'll get some coffee, do you want some?" 5:40. Yann Leroux, 47, captain of Air France flight AF7516, prepares his roadmap. With 1.8 million passengers per year, most of them for business, the Paris-Toulouse shuttle is the most important airline in Europe. 6:05 a.m. Day breaks on the port of Guilvinec, in Bigouden country. In her suspender jacket, Scarlette Le Corre, 64, starts "Mon Copain JP", a 7-meter canoe that has carried her to sea for thirty years. Soon, full spiders, magnificent lobsters, soles come up in his nets. For this daughter and granddaughter of fishermen, the profession has a future: “With the reforms, the quotas, we have won back 20% more fish.”
Stéphanie diffuses Chopin and Queen to her hundred-year-old vines
6h47. Entrance to gate C of another port, that of Marseille Fos. After a mistral night, the Mediterranean calms down. At the time of the first issue of Paris Match, there were thousands of dockers, "dogs of the quays", working around the hangars that 2000 German mines had ravaged. Today, the dockers are still restless. But, supported by steel monsters, they are now less than a thousand. Some have been there for five generations. From here we go to all the oceans, and we fight so that nothing changes.
On a plot of Cabernet Sauvignon, a woman removes unnecessary buds by hand. It is 6:50 a.m. on the grounds of Château Lassolle, in Lot-et-Garonne, and Stéphanie Roussel is brooding over her 9 hectares of vines like children. To the rhythm of the sun and the moon, as his peers did in 1949. But with more fantasy. From her tractor, she broadcasts to her vines – the oldest are 107 years old – Chopin or Queen: “It does them good.” Stéphanie did not wait for the explosion of the organic wine market – which has grown by an average of 20% per year since 2010 – to give up fertilizers and pesticides. This spring of 2019, the weather is mild but she fears the worst. Like the violent storm that hit the region the night France won the football World Cup. She and 3,000 winegrowers had lost their harvest. Difficult to get up.
7:20 a.m. Scarlette Le Corre, 64, fisherman in Guilvinec (Finistère). Photo: Pascal Rostain
7:48 Yann Leroux, captain, and Xavier Delvaux, co-pilot, at Air France, on board an Airbus A320 which makes the Paris-Toulouse shuttle. Photo: Veronique de Viguerie
In the Noyon Dentelle factory, the noise is deafening. Frédéric Delhaye, the foreman, wears nothing to protect his ears. Otherwise, how will he know if something is wrong? He hired at 7 o'clock. Under his responsibility, around fifty hundred-year-old cast iron and steel machines, stolen from the English, who made the reputation of Calais lace. Frédéric has been practicing the profession for more than three decades. “In ten years, no one will be able to do what we do,” he says, a little sad.
After eleven lean years, Stéphanie Maubé, a shepherdess and solo mother in the Manche department, barely manages to pay herself the amount of a minimum wage. Seven days a week, from 7 a.m., she roams the pastures where her Avranchine ewes graze on grass covered twice a month by the high tides of the Cotentin. Intensive agriculture and the common agricultural policy have, in seventy years, completely changed his job. Stéphanie regrets it and advises to consume "local and seasonal". She is optimistic: "There are more and more people like me."
Alexandre, 17, stands in the row of the honor picket, Famas in a necklace
At a time when many other teenagers are still sleeping, Alexandre, 17, stands in the rank of the honor picket, Famas in saltire. “Watch out for the colors!” It's 7:58 a.m. In the chiaroscuro of the place d'armes of the Naval Training Center in Brest, the 185 students of the Ecole des mousses are at attention. They left the school course for “action”. In this school reopened in 2009 as part of the “equal opportunities” plan, they are served. In eight months, they passed their coastal license and their marksmanship certificate. The moss smiles and clings to their motto: "Always be valiant and loyal."
8 hours. Flight AF7516 slowly begins its descent towards Toulouse-Blagnac. “It passes quickly, says Yann Leroux. Look over there, in the background, it is the chain of the Pyrenees. Soft landing, forty-five minutes later. After a break, the driver will continue: Paris again, then Lyon. "I never tire. Our country is so beautiful!”
8:20 a.m. Flag ceremony for the students of the Ecole des Mousses, at the Naval Training Center in Brest. Photo: Corentin Fohlen / Divergence
8:45 am Breakfast offered to CP students at the Voltaire school in Arras (Pas-de-Calais). Photo: Pierre Morel
9:28 a.m. Christophe Moser, 45, stockbroker in Paris. Photo: Albert Facelly / Divergence
8:05 a.m., Arras. Large bags filled with bread, jams, fruit and milk await the eighteen teachers of the Voltaire school, classified as priority education. Since April, every Wednesday, 335 students have breakfast in class. This is one of the measures of the government's "poverty plan". In 1954, already, the President of the Council, Pierre Mendès France, decided to distribute a glass of milk to schoolchildren. In Voltaire, the educational team has been contributing for a long time to have a supply of yogurts to give to children who arrive hungry. The average income of parents at this school does not exceed 800 euros, which is below the poverty line.
The offices of Louis Capital Markets are located in the most expensive area of Paris. It is 9:32 a.m. in the open space of this brokerage firm. Miles of figures and graphs parade on the monitors. Stressful? “Stress is having nothing to do,” explains Christophe Moser, 45. Gone is the myth of the Wall Street-style trader of the 1980s: “It’s an aging, chastened population. And the markets have become highly regulated, it is no longer the Wild West.”
Gold again... In the heart of the Bois de Vincennes, winning France takes to the track at 9:45 a.m. The ancestor of Insep, factory of Olympic champions, was created by de Gaulle to erase the mediocre results of our athletes at the Rome Olympics in 1960. On the program for Teddy Riner (2.04 meters, nearly 140 kilos): 150, 200, 300 meters in split races, on an 8 degree slope. After thirty minutes of effort, the colossus collapses. "It's hard, but I know I need it," admits the judoka, who is training to win gold at the 2020 Olympics... in Tokyo!
9:45 am In Paris, Teddy Riner, 30 years old, judoka, ten times world champion. Photo: Patrick Fouque
10 a.m. Cannes Film Festival, the mayor, David Lisnard, 50, at the city's video surveillance center. Photo: Enrico Dagnino
9:54 a.m. At the CHU d'Angers, Nathanaelle, 35, is preparing for her third caesarean. In less than ten minutes, Paul emits his first cry. At 10.52 a.m., Clémence gives birth to Jeanne. They will be 70 years old in 2089.
10:11 Welcome to Paul. Nathanaelle and her newborn at the maternity ward of the CHU d'Angers. Photo: Laurence Jay
Weather parenthesis: the situation is becoming more stable over France, with an anticyclonic thrust to the northwest. Rising temperatures. At the Météopole national forecasting center in Toulouse, the engineers responsible for feeding the database are on the alert. The slightest atmospheric hazard at the other end of the planet can, in a few hours, have repercussions on the territory. "Overall, the phenomena are more intense," notes Marie-Claire Baleste, chief forecaster.
"I was never ashamed to say that I was a garbage collector"
Seventy years ago, unemployment concerned less than 0.6% of the population. Cenon employment center (Gironde), 10:55 a.m. Julie Albouze, 33, one of the ocean of the 2.4 million unemployed people recorded in France in 2019, has an appointment for the first time with her adviser. Julie, without a baccalaureate, would see herself as a graphic designer, even on her own. Thanks to an increase in the construction and service sectors, the unemployment rate has just fallen to 8.7%, its lowest level since 2009. Why not the hotel industry? Julie does not speak English. Never mind, Anne has a solution: training, paid for by the region, on the condition of dedicating herself to the tourism professions. Before that, Julie will have to review her CV.
In Limonest, in the suburbs of Lyon, almost 11 a.m. At the wheel of the truck, Mehdi, 36, watches his teammates empty the green bins: “I was never ashamed to say that I was a garbage collector. We work outside, we have our afternoons to take care of the children, it’s ideal!” Last November, however, they went on strike for three weeks, for better pay. “France, in 2019, is hot! Our purchasing power has dropped enormously..." In France, 108,000 garbage collectors throw away our household waste every day: 573 kilos per year and per inhabitant. Three times more than seventy years ago!
10:20 a.m. Break for Mehdi Z., 36, Tayeb Boukdir, 32, and Najib Azzi, 36, garbage collectors in the Lyon metropolitan area. Photo: Ilan Deutsch
10:30 a.m. Ariane Ringenbach's game of waste collection, in Fort-Mahon-Plage (Somme) Photo: Kasia Wandycz
10:55 a.m. Meeting at the Pôle emploi agency in Cenon (Gironde) for Julie Albouze (from the back), 33 years old. Photo: Claire Delfino
At that time, on the immense beach of Fort-Mahon (Somme), there was only sand. Today, dolphins and seals are often stranded, their bellies swollen with waste, not to mention dead seabirds suffocated by plastic... , rushes to collect the waste. In the lead, Ariane Ringenbach, its founder: “It’s as if humans had had a big party with plastic for decades. And now the party was over!”
11:45 a.m. Saint-Saulve (North). Pale, Cédric Orban, 59, president of Ascoval, fell off the jacket. The tray of blueberries on his desk is intact. Absorbed by his computer screen, he has just learned of the compulsory liquidation of British Steel, the third buyer of his steelworks in two years. The fate persists. Aloud, he reread the press release prepared by Bercy. He wants to be reassuring: Ascoval would not be directly concerned, since it is not British Steel but its parent company which has just acquired the site. But, at the factory, no one is reassured. The 270 employees are well aware that the sites to which they will now supply their steel will be affected. However, they believed in the recovery signed on May 15. The first public funds and financing were beginning to arrive. “It’s a difficult path, people are fed up. But, for the time being, we cannot plant our customers”, answers Cédric Orban to a collaborator who came to tell him, the livid mine, that “it heats up” in the steelworks.
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11:55 a.m. Grégoire Minday, 34, breeder and ex-zadist, in Notre-Dame-des-Landes. Photo: Benjamin Girette
12 noon François Cohendet, mayor of Ferrette (Haut-Rhin), and families of migrants welcomed in his town. Photo: Pierre Terdjman
It is noon in Ferrette, on the borders of Alsace. When he wanted to welcome 80 migrants in an abandoned barracks in his town, in 2016, the mayor had to face a sling. "They will bring diseases, rape our daughters, take our jobs...", wrote the opponents on social networks. Septuagenarian, François Cohendet thought he had heard everything: "I was surprised, demolished by this visceral hatred." But other voices were raised. That of the priest, the doctor, neighbors... The first two migrants, Sudanese, arrived "in flip-flops, under the snow, terrified". Syrians, Africans, Afghans seeking asylum followed. An association to channel the massive aid has been created. Today, all is not rosy. But for the mayor, “it was worth it”.
Soon lunch time in Notre-Dame-des-Landes (Loire-Atlantique). They have left work in the fields for the "common space" in the wooden house built in 2016. Around the table, there is Loïc, responsible for the surrounding forest, Claire preparing buckwheat pancakes, and his companion, Grégoire, 34, breeder in overalls, who has just spent the morning “in the paperwork”. Ex-zadists, they arrived “when it was hot” and never left. The resistance, in this “red countryside”, is a tradition: “It goes back to the Middle Ages and continued after the war with the Christian agricultural youth and the Maoists”, says Grégoire. In another life, this Parisian worker in the construction industry went through prison several times, imprisoned for robbery or for violence during a demonstration. Growing precariousness, “dehumanizing” forms of wage labor, intensive agriculture “in the hands of lobbies and the state that lets it go” crystallize their anger. "Here, we are developing accessible distribution networks", supplying migrants, strikers and yellow vests. Victorious against the state, the Zad has its little aura with some.
12:15 p.m., on the terrace of a café in Nogent-sur-Marne. With its squares lined with palm trees, the sub-prefecture of Val-de-Marne looks like a seaside town. But Clément Dezenclos is not on vacation. The 19-year-old orders an espresso, ready to jump on his mountain bike at the first call. At 2 euros per race, and 1 more per kilometer travelled, time matters. Since he gave up pursuing his audiovisual BTS, Clément has been a courier for Uber Eats, registered as a microentrepreneur. Equipped with a large backpack and the Uber mobile application, at least five days a week, for five or six hours, he is pedaling, the most economical option, to deliver burgers, pizzas or gluten-free dishes. “There, I am at just over 3000 euros in turnover”, he calculates. Per month? “No, since this winter.” Free to choose its perimeter and its schedules, it never strays from the town hall area, which is well provided with restaurants. Two million orders are delivered in France each week, a figure that is constantly increasing, but the competition is fierce. In a market estimated at 2.4 billion euros, Uber Eats the American and Deliveroo the English each claim a “fleet” of 10,000 couriers.
12:15 p.m. Clément, 19, Uber Eats delivery man in Nogent-sur-Marne (Val-de-Marne). Photo: Albert Facelly / Divergence
2 p.m. Pierre Delassus, 68, medical mediator at Caen University Hospital. Photo: Eric Hadj
2:15 p.m. Examination for students taking the Voltaire certificate at the University School of Management in Clermont-Ferrand. Photo: Vlada Krasilnikova
12:57 p.m. Return to Ascoval. The name of Xavier Bertrand appears on the telephone of the boss of the steelworks. The region president comes to the news. Shortly after, another call. It is a trade unionist announcing that they plan to request the cancellation of the recovery. "If we do nothing, it may end badly," says Cédric Orban. But a few hours later, the electric oven will start to heat up again, and the workers to hope.
There remains the possibility of an island... That of Quéménès, far from the world when the Iroise Sea is capricious, is suddenly visible off Finistère at 1:08 p.m. Low tide. No electricity or running water at the start. Just a well that discouraged more than one. The Conservatoire du littoral, which became the owner, installed wind turbines and solar panels there in 2003 with the idea of restoring man there. Fifteen years and a couple of tenants later, Amélie and Etienne, in their thirties, aspiring to a radical change of life, invest for nine years the paradisiacal rock and its fertile land. A farm, ten guest rooms... and this herd of rustic sheep from the moors of Brittany, thanks to which they won the call for applications. Living at the rhythm of nature? "Extraordinary!" ensure the new Robinsons.
"In 1949, we didn't prolong life with treatments, since they didn't exist, and we suffered a lot more..."
At Clermont-Auvergne University, 2:15 p.m. , beginning of the dictation: "The starving babies were crying next to me..." Fifty-three students in professional bank license, a sample among 1,642,200 registered in the universities of France, laugh. No stress: not counted in their average, this exam is only intended to certify that they have mastered French. It is not won: according to a study, on the same text of 67 words and 16 punctuation marks delivered to children of the same age group, the number of errors increased from 10.6 in 1987 to 17.8 in 2015. Young people write – and speak – less and less well.
After forty years at the head of the palliative care department at Caen University Hospital, when it was time to retire, Dr Pierre Delassus wanted to remain active by becoming a medical mediator. Four mornings a week, including today, this post plunges him into the heart of the hospital crisis. Patients, according to Pierre, are increasingly demanding and suspicious. So he listens, defuses, explains. Before the Leonetti law on the end of life, many complaints concerned therapeutic relentlessness, which was often blamed. Since its promulgation in 2005, it has been the opposite: families have difficulty accepting the cessation of care. In seventy years, this subject has become a key issue. "In 1949, we did not prolong life with treatments, since they did not exist, and we suffered much more... Naturally, Vincent Lambert would have died very quickly", says the doctor.
CHU Sebastopol, Reims. On the order of the Court of Appeal, Vincent Lambert has again been artificially fed for forty-eight hours. At the beginning of the afternoon, disappointed by this decision, his nephew François resumed the course of visits. In the room on the 4th floor, he meets Vincent's wife, Rachel, who has come from a war weary to restart the television subscription. Both, like six other members of the family and about fifteen doctors who, for eleven years, have looked into the case, are convinced that Vincent is "without conscience". They want it to stop.
2:30 p.m. Bilel Chegrani, 19, actor, at La Grande Borne (Grigny), where he was born. Photo: Vincent Capman
2:35 p.m. Amélie Goossens and Etienne Menguy, 32, in their potato field on the island of Quéménès (Finistère). Photo: Pascal Rostain
Grigny (Essonne), 23 kilometers south-east of Paris. Poor, landlocked, deindustrialized, over-indebted, here, according to the latest report from the Court of Auditors, is “one of the most deprived cities” in France. 2:30 p.m. At a place called l'Escargot, city of Grande Borne, Bilel Chegrani, 19, the last of seven siblings from Kabylie, walks between these short buildings on legs that wind for miles, at the four corners of which are planted the vans of cops: “290 hectares, 18,000 inhabitants. People are born poor here. So, poverty, you don't feel it, since you are like the others. Heat and Ramadan seem to soften the movements of passers-by. He, lively, intelligent, moves like a small feline in his Nike jogging. How did he get out of there, become an actor? “My mother sent me to buy milk. Have you seen “Divines”? I ran into the film's villain, Jisca Kalvanda. She said to me: “Come to make cinema.” Luck, and then a role in the series “Engrenages”. Bilel catches the light, that's how it is, a kind of injustice. His older brothers slipped down the wrong slope: "They said to me: 'Bilel, you do in a film what we do in life...' They are great, have chosen. I'm saving the name a bit." He greets his friends: “Good or what? Tonight, are we playing PlayStation?” And slips: “I have always been happy there.”
2:53 p.m. At the Memphis tea dance in Paris, Martine David, 70, and Jacky Rigail, 82. Photo: Albert Facelly / Divergence
3:07 p.m. The two Elise: the great-grandmother, 105, and the youngest, 3 months, at the Châtelaudren nursing home (Côtes-d'Armor). Photo: Philippe Petit
“Happy birthday, Paris Match! The favorite newspaper of the French. Radiant, Elise Le Page, 105, greets our magazine to which she has long been a subscriber and where her granddaughter, Anne-Laure Le Gall, works. This Wednesday afternoon, in the residence of Leff, in Châtelaudren, in the Côtes-d'Armor, Elise wears a white beret, which she replaces delicately. The press is her whole life, like that of many former Châtelaudren, where she was born in 1913. The printing press of the "Petit Echo de la mode", where she was a proofreader, was the main employer in the city. . Widowed, one of the 21,000 French centenarians, Elise had to leave her house a few years ago to settle, backwards, in the public nursing home of the town. The recent scandals of abuse, of living conditions unworthy of our elders, have cast shame on all of these establishments. But here, in Châtelaudren, the 59 residents have always known each other and things are going well.
Khamel T., repeat offender, wanders in the waiting room of the Bordeaux Court of Appeal
“I am a truck driver. Without the license, I am no longer good for anything. In the waiting room, Khamel T., 53, wanders haggard. His criminal record does not plead in his favor: seven convictions, including five prior to the facts. He is a repeat offender, like four out of ten convicts. In a moment, we will judge him for these facts, dating back to 2016, which the president lists before the Bordeaux Court of Appeal. That day, Khamel had drunk too much. When a young girl hit his car and left without saying anything, he followed her, insulted and threatened with death, hitting her father who intervened. The gendarmes arrived. Unable to calm him down, they used a taser. Khamel fell, his head hit the ground. “I was in a coma, he says at the bar. I stayed two months in intensive care. With two years in prison, one of which is required, he appeals to save what he has left: a driver's license. “Do not condemn him to despair”, pleads Me Christian Blazy. The matter is taken under advisement. Verdict on June 25.
The population of Paris, like that of France, is ageing, with one in five inhabitants over the age of 60. Every day except weekends, not far from the Grands Boulevards, the Memphis is full. It's 3 p.m. The decor of the establishment, founded in 1946, is hardly less retro than the clientele. Sitting on leopard-print benches, graying silhouettes are just waiting for a slow to invade the track. Among them, Martine David, 70, widow, and Jacky Rigail, 82, hardened bachelor. For two decades, three times a week, until closing time at 7:30 p.m., they meet there. Musette, tango, paso, salsa and rock galore for 9 euros, drink included. “Here, there are people who are looking for little hugs”, assures Martine, who makes a point of not flirting. But since we flirt on the Internet, they fear a little the disappearance of Memphis.
3:17 p.m. At the Noyon Dentelles factory in Calais, the visit of the foreman, Frédéric Delhaye, 51 years old. Photo: Kasia Wandycz
3:26 p.m. Around Father Joseph, the irreducible yellow vests of the Quatre-Chemins roundabout, in Somain (North). Photo: Pierre Morel
3:45 p.m. At the Bordeaux Court of Appeal, Khamel, truck driver, and his lawyer, Me Christian Blazy. Photo: Claire Delfino
4 p.m. Coming from five continents and representing fifteen nationalities, the 600 employees of Quiksilver and Roxy are working on the 2020 collections within the "campus". Who better than the tribe of surfers anticipated the wave of massive aspiration to a healthier, greener, cooler way of life? Founded by two Australians, the emblematic brand set up its headquarters two minutes from the ocean, in the heart of the Basque Country, in 1985. The strategists work in these cabin offices, connected to each other by walkways on which beach towels dry. In the morning, it's a teleconference with Australia and, in the evening, with the United States. During the break, employees skate (not in the corridors: it's forbidden). On the giant screen in the cafeteria, images of beaches in the region allow you to watch the state of the waves. When the place is empty, it's because they've gone "riding"...
4 p.m. In Bidart (Pyrénées-Atlantiques), Miky Picon, responsible for athletes sponsored by Quiksilver, Marc Lacomare, surfer, and Zoé Grospiron, longboarder and Roxy muse. Photo: Patrick Fouque
4:35 p.m. While waiting for fiber optics, the inhabitants of Moustier-Ventadour (Corrèze) pick up the network in front of the church. Photo: Patrick Robert
Soon 6 p.m. on the Quatre-Chemins roundabout, in Somain (North), in the heart of the industrial zone, one of the 300 HQs occupied by the yellow vests since November. The fight goes on! Everywhere in France, they are fifteen times less than at the beginning; but they persist. Disabled people, shopkeepers, retirees, bus drivers, town hall employees, farmers, who have become friends, the twenty die-hards find themselves in front of an empty table every day. On Saturdays, despite tight incomes, they do not hesitate to take the road to demonstrate: Lille, Arras, Nantes, Paris... "We all have to re-motivate ourselves", asserts Valérie. Here, there was no violence. This is what pleased Father Joseph: “I was looking for a peaceful roundabout. We must allow retirees to demonstrate as well, without being upset. Laurent, a former Renault employee, fears the future. He saw his monthly income decrease by 120 euros. "At the end of the last war, there was the National Council of Resistance, a reconstruction project, justice, all that is called into question", notes Jean-Pierre. “I'm going to leave everything, then announces Roussel, 56, gray hair brush. Go to Ardèche with my guitars and my books. No Internet or telephone, back to basics...»
The main thing? In Moustier-Ventadour, in the heart of Corrèze, one of the least populated departments in France, we are there! It's 6 p.m., and Jacky, 60, is having trouble picking up the network: "To do my job as a pharmacy salesperson, it's very disabling. If I had known, I certainly would not have settled here. For a bit of 4G, head to the church, the only place in the town where cellphones work, while waiting for the promised fibre. Welcome to the "white zone"... Daniel Bouyges, the mayor, 71, never wanted to leave. For young people, he admits, it's more complicated.
5:21 p.m. At the Ascoval steelworks, in Saint-Saulve (North), the furnace has started up again. Photo: Pierre Morel
6 p.m. Cristel, delicatessen in a hypermarket, one of the largest in France, on the outskirts of Aix-en-Provence. Photo: Enrico Dagnino
7:15 p.m. Marc, owner for eleven years of the PMU L'Hippodrome, in Denain (Nord). Photo: Pierre Morel
It's 8 p.m. Since June 1949, the date of the first JT commented live by Pierre Sabbagh from rue Cognacq-Jay, it has been time for high mass for millions of French people. Facing the camera, Gilles Bouleau is standing in the TF1 studio. Gilles, who has been operating for seven years, tweaks his files a bit; 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... let's go! Ascoval, a CRS judged at the assizes, the French and the diesel, the triumph of the drive, the life of castle in Portugal… “I dose the bad and the good news. Life is already difficult enough”, slips the journalist thirty-two minutes later.
Leaning on the counter of the PMU in Denain (Nord), his eyes riveted on the TV which only broadcasts races, Silvio, 56, has just bet on a nag. Behind the cash drawer, Marc, the owner, boasts of having succeeded in winning over a clientele in a town where there are only eight bars left. There were three times that twenty-five years ago. It is mainly thanks to tobacco and games that he gets by.
At 31, Florian has behind him tens of thousands of kilometers across Europe. This evening, he climbs the last steps of his truck to sneak into the bunk, behind his seat. Florian has his little habits. He puts on his slippers, his night suit, and hugs the teddy bear offered by his companion, Noémie. It's 10 p.m. Silence falls on the car park near Châteauroux.
7:58 p.m. Gilles Bouleau before 8 p.m. on TF1 in Boulogne-Billancourt. Photo: Vincent Capman
10 p.m. Florian Daudon, 31, truck driver throughout Europe for a company in Indre, goes to bed. Photo: Alvaro Canovas
10:32 p.m. Laurent Voulzy in concert at the Saint-Eustache church in Paris. Photo: Vincent Capman
In Paris, at the Saint-Eustache church, in a collected atmosphere, the voice of Laurent Voulzy rises, in concert. Cool, melodic pop, performed by the young singer, who was born a year before Paris Match. He notes: “Technology has overtaken our morals. A routine had been installed since the 1950s. The LP, the 33-rpm, the cassette, the CD... and, suddenly, everything disappears!” Night falls on Paris. But in Guadeloupe, where Voulzy comes from, the evening is barely beginning. Who said France was sleeping?
In video, behind the scenes of our report
Mobilized journalists
Editor-in-chief: Caroline Mangez
Reporters: Arnaud Bizot, Emilie Blachère, Jean-Michel Caradec'h, Popeline Chollet, Paloma Clément Picos, Pauline Delassus, Nicolas Delesalle, Caroline Fontaine, Alexandre Gerschel, Mariana Grépinet, Pauline Lallement, Anne-Laure Le Gall, Anne -Sophie Lechevallier, Audrey Levy, Arthur Loustalot, Gaëlle Legenne, Charlotte Leloup, Juliette Pelerin, Aurélie Raya, Margaux Rolland, Ghislain de Violet, Florence Saugues.
Photographers: Alvaro Canovas, Vincent Capman, Enrico Dagnino, Claire Delfino, Ilan Deutsch, Albert Facelly, Corentin Fohlen, Patrick Fouque, Laurence Geai, Benjamin Girette, Eric Hadj, Vlada Krassilnikova, Manuel Lagos Cid, Pierre Morel, Philippe Petit , Patrick Robert, Pascal Rostain, Pierre Terdjman, Véronique de Viguerie, Kasia Wandycz, Rafael Yaghobzadeh.