It’s Sunday, everyone!
I, obviously, cannot vote in France. I’m a legal resident, not naturalised, and not a citizen. This is a hugely consequential election for France, and the turnout as of lunchtime are not looking great.
While I look forward to voting in the 2022, the extent of my participation this round was to get up and go with E to the polls around 1pm. I’d had a late night, and so we didn’t arrive until well after the lunchtime turnout statistics were reported.
The actual voting procedure is very, very simple. French voters have little booklets called “Carte Électorale” that they bring with them. The booklets have serial numbers that decide what line someone will enter when they arrive at their voting location. As with any public space in France, there is a security check where someone goes through your bag, checks your coat, and sends you though a scanner.
E checked his serial number and went through an unsettlingly short line. He presented his card, received a stamp with the date of the election, and then two cards, one for Le Pen and one for Macron. He went into a little booth, stuck one in the box, and left.
Very anticlimactic considering how nightmarish this day could become by evening!
I waited with a book, watching people arrive. There was very, very little wait time compared to the primary in April. I’m trying not to what-if myself off a cliff because truly, we won’t know until we know.
I’m having a bunch of international friends over for dinner and making a family recipe. We’re representing Brazil, Hong Kong, Sweden, France, and the US. We’re all pretty worried about what could become of us in the next few hours, but there’s nothing to do but wait and carry on with what is otherwise a very normal Sunday with friends.