Today has given me something to talk about for weeks to come, at least. I was on my way into town to go to the Préfécture (can't think of an English equivalent), where I would get my card to stay in France. While on the bus, I noticed dark smoke in the distance. When we turned the corner, I saw a LOT of smoke coming out from behind the Castillet, one of the historic landmarks in Perpignan. There were firetrucks everywhere, and police officers and fire fighters blocking off streets. I'll admit that I feared it was the Castillet burning down, but silently hoped (as horrible as it sounds) that it was the Préfécture, so I could delay getting my carte de séjour for a while longer.
According to Le Figaro online, the fire started early this morning, around 5 am, in the perfum shop on the first floor of an apartment complex. The buildings in this part of town date back to the Middle Ages (I'd like Natasha to note that I didn't say "the Dark Ages") and are located in the oldest part of the town. Thus, any type of fire in them (and in a perfum shop, nonetheless!) is disastrous. The people living above the perfume shop were evacuated, but the fire was really, really bad. According to the report, one firefighter is in critical condition in the local hospital and another has been treated for smoke intoxication.
When I arrived at the fire, I noticed that it was next door to the Préfécture. Two police officers were blocking off the road where I needed to be. When I told them where I was going, I was surprised that they let me pass. There were already about 30+ people in line for the Préfécture that morning, and we were all standing next to the burning building. I couldn't believe it! The smoke was right over all of us, shielded only by the side of the old building. There was ash falling around us, and our shoes were getting soaked by the water coming from the firefighters' hoses. Frankly, I still can't believe they let us get that close! Later, there were journalists who showed up, asking questions and taking pictures.
The Préfécture opened late today because of the fire, and by the time we got in, I felt like I was in a refugee camp. A line of about 60 at least had formed (all different nationalities, of course), and we were all a little wet, grouchy, and tired. Babies were crying, old women were coughing, and young men were demanding to get in to the Préfécture. When I got up to the gate, a policeman blocked my entry and said, "pas d'étrangers!" (No foreigners) He let a few French people in to get their drivers' licenses renewed, but I stood outside, still getting a little wet from the hoses. That was, perhaps, the first time I felt discriminated against.
Don't worry, though; I finally got let in, dried off, and waited...for four more hours. But I left with the documents I had come for. And a good story of the Fire of the Year.
