Monday, September 24, 2007

Holy Monday

This morning in a cafe, I heard The Mamas and the Papas singing "Monday, Monday." It reminded me how strange Mondays are here.

Centuries ago, Europeans had an informal holiday on Mondays which was sometimes called "Holy Monday." If Sunday had been a saint's day which involved a day-long festival, no one wanted to work on Monday. And in an agricultural economy where no one punched a time clock and working hours were more flexible, taking off part or all of Monday was not a problem.

Paris seems to have preserved the practice of Holy Monday. The Bibliotheque Nationale (the National Library) doesn't open until 2:00 PM, and the Archives of Paris where I've been working lately doesn't open until 1:30 PM. My neighborhood grocery story -- a large chain store, not a small operation -- doesn't open until noon. Of course some things are open on the weekend, so taking off Monday morning isn't too much to ask for them, perhaps. But the street seemed so empty this morning when I left the apartment.

Holy Monday throws off my timing and reminds me that the pace of life in Paris does not proceed by American time. Paris is not a 24/7 city, although more things are that way than the first time I came. Funny how a matter of timing, so ingrained in our routines, can make another place feel so different. Especially on a Monday morning.

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