So Lille was beginning to wear a little thin on me. First off, the directrice of the hostel turned out to be a tyrant who would continually berate and verbally abuse her workers; Secondly, the weather had been consistently awful for a good while; and thirdly, I had failed entirely to find a bike for cheap - it turns out that the french simply do not bike! So as I said, I was getting fed up already when the following events occured.
Alright, so I had told the directrice that I would be leaving that day, but found that I was scheduled to work anyways and since there were only two of us to clean the whole hostel, I couldn't very well abandon my friend Jorge to do it all himself. So I was ticked off when Celine, the directrice, went off the handle - as usual. So I just walked away, but I was muttering to myself, and I said that the directrice was "folle" within hearing distance of the wrong set of ears. A staff member heard my relatively mild insult (It was certainly mild compared to some of the names she'd given me!) and reported it back to Celine! So she and her hulking boyfriend, who was twice my size, stormed up to my room, and after an insane rant ordered me to leave within the half-hour. Now remember that I'd been living there for three weeks, so my things were pretty spread out. So half an hour was a tall order. So at a certain point - I had still not exceeded my half-hour - the directrice's boyfriend decided that I was not moving quickly enough. The man was blind with rage; there was no reasoning with him. After he repeatedly threatened me with violence I warned him that I would call the police to protect me as I gathered my things. He, indignant, insisted I do so, as he assured me that they had a very close relationship with the police. And so I went to the phone and started to dial. Now imagine my surprise at being put on hold by the french equivalent of 911. Well, this was too much for the hot-headed boyfriend, and he grabbed me my the throat, strangled me, rammed me into the wall and eventually threw me into the street. I could not fight back or escape with my heavy backpack on my back. So, now outside, I called the police again, and they assured me someone would come by that afternoon. Brilliant. So when the police finally showed up, they could find no marks on my neck visible enough to sustain charges, all the witnesses to the assault had gone mum or disappeared, and the police were unwilling to do anything. In short, I got no justice. But I think the message had been clearly delivered by the universe, that it was time to leave Lille, and, why not france too? :)
Alright, so I had told the directrice that I would be leaving that day, but found that I was scheduled to work anyways and since there were only two of us to clean the whole hostel, I couldn't very well abandon my friend Jorge to do it all himself. So I was ticked off when Celine, the directrice, went off the handle - as usual. So I just walked away, but I was muttering to myself, and I said that the directrice was "folle" within hearing distance of the wrong set of ears. A staff member heard my relatively mild insult (It was certainly mild compared to some of the names she'd given me!) and reported it back to Celine! So she and her hulking boyfriend, who was twice my size, stormed up to my room, and after an insane rant ordered me to leave within the half-hour. Now remember that I'd been living there for three weeks, so my things were pretty spread out. So half an hour was a tall order. So at a certain point - I had still not exceeded my half-hour - the directrice's boyfriend decided that I was not moving quickly enough. The man was blind with rage; there was no reasoning with him. After he repeatedly threatened me with violence I warned him that I would call the police to protect me as I gathered my things. He, indignant, insisted I do so, as he assured me that they had a very close relationship with the police. And so I went to the phone and started to dial. Now imagine my surprise at being put on hold by the french equivalent of 911. Well, this was too much for the hot-headed boyfriend, and he grabbed me my the throat, strangled me, rammed me into the wall and eventually threw me into the street. I could not fight back or escape with my heavy backpack on my back. So, now outside, I called the police again, and they assured me someone would come by that afternoon. Brilliant. So when the police finally showed up, they could find no marks on my neck visible enough to sustain charges, all the witnesses to the assault had gone mum or disappeared, and the police were unwilling to do anything. In short, I got no justice. But I think the message had been clearly delivered by the universe, that it was time to leave Lille, and, why not france too? :)
