Bettina hurries up. Quickly go get the evening meal at the store. Already 8:15 pm The student must be home in three quarters of an hour last carat. “I do not want to have the fine of 135 € …”
Since Saturday, October 17, the 404.00 inhabitants of Métropole Saint-Etienne have been living at curfew time. As in Île-de-France and in seven other metropolises, they are prohibited from traveling between 9 p.m. and 6 a.m.
Why Saint-Étienne Métropole has the worst epidemiological rates in France
“What’s complicated,” sighs Bettina, “is that we have a lot of group work at the school of architecture. Usually, we went to each other to work, to make “carts” which can take us until 3 am. There we can not. At 21, one must have returned home; or, in FaceTime (Editor’s note, videoconferencing communication application developed by Apple) we cannot install the studs. “
Social life has taken a big hit too.
The biggest night I had was when Macron announced the curfew: we had a raclette at my place with some friends: being a young person in 2020 is not easy. We cannot make up for those years. We’re supposed to party, go to bars, drink shots. Our student year, we live it like old people. We go to bed at 9 p.m. …
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Bettina, a second year student at the Saint-Etienne school of architecture: “Being a young person in 2020 is not easy. “
On patrol with the police busy enforcing the curfew in Saint-Étienne
The curfew should make it possible to slow down the evolution of the epidemic in a capital of the Loire which has the worst incidence rate in France, with 717 cases recorded per 100,000 inhabitants (Editor’s note, Monday October 19).
“We are champion of something, at least”, squeaks Boualem, owner of the Le Nautilus complex, a Saint-Etienne nightclub whose doors have been closed since March 13. Seated in front of a drink and tapas at Piccadilly Circus, located in the extension of the rue des Martyrs de Vingré, where revelers usually concentrate, the nightclub owner has come to change his mind that he has been gray for months. Do we ask him how he experienced the announcement of the curfew? “This is more bad news that further delays the horizon of a reopening for us. “
Boualem (on the right in the photo): “Our disco has been closed for seven months. And we are still waiting for help. ”
Curfew: why the metropolis of Clermont-Ferrand is, for the moment, not concerned?
Hervé Romier nods. Before taking a look at his watch. It is time. Remind customers that closing is approaching. “We work under the pressure of time now,” sighs the manager of Piccadilly Circus. A stress that adds to the weakened finances. ” In October 2020, compared to 2019, I lost 70% of my turnover. The curfew will help to make the bill even higher. “Since this Saturday, we have had one less service in the evening, the one where people let go the most and therefore consume the most. This again led me to put two more people on partial unemployment. Today, I have seven out of ten employees on partial unemployment. And again, I’m not complaining too much, I’m lucky to be able to reopen. But look at the street: everything is closed … ”
“Since this Saturday, we have had one less service in the evening when people let go the most,” sighs Hervé Romier.
It is nine o’clock. The last stores open hastily draw the curtain, while last-minute patrons dare to dare from restaurants. Fred and Pierre are cursing: they must have eaten on the go. “We come from outside for a mission in Saint-Étienne. We arrived at 8:15 p.m. so we only had three quarters of an hour to eat. And there, we risk the fine to join our Air Bnb rental. We didn’t even have time to go shopping! ”
Place Jean-Jaurès, the other heart of the city, the bicycle delivery men of Uber Eats and Deliveroo, with their isothermal rucksacks on their shoulders, take possession of the space. Despite the curfew, restaurants providing home meal delivery can remain open and continue working to prepare orders after 9 p.m. With police cars idling to control curfew compliance, lone dog walkers and night workers rushing home, these self-employed entrepreneurs are the only ones populating the ghost town. “People no longer want to go out,” concludes Christophe Barboza, manager of a café-restaurant on the deserted terrace, watching with a disillusioned air the incessant ballet of bicycles.
It is 9:30 p.m. The city is emptying. Make way for dog walkers and other bike deliverers from Uber Eat and Deliveroo.
From 9 p.m., bike delivery guys from Uber Eats and Deliveroo fill the space.
Text: Nicolas Faucon
Photos: Thierry Lindauer
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