lunchtime wasted time.

I honestly like the long, leisurely lunch breaks in France. People usually SIT while they eat. They may even have a mutli-course meal. With wine! That's not to say that people don't eat on the go, but most people do actually take time to eat because eating in France is THAT important.

So when lunchtime is the only time of the day you can run your various errands, the French lunch break is really annoying. Since most stores close early (the supermarket near me is open until 9pm. Woo hoo! but closed on Sunday) and the other stores in the center close by 7pm, the lunch break is the only time to do those random things like getting buttons for the fireman raincoat that's been unworn for 5 months because it's missing a button or picking up a birthday present for a 4 year old or collecting the concert tickets for next week's concert (another woo hoo here please).

And being that it IS lunchtime and I'm not the ONLY one running such errands, you'd think that the stores would make an effort to open ALL of the cash registers, not just 2 of the 6. Maybe I'm being extremely unrealistic or maybe I'm just that American that I expect to be done with my errand after waiting in line for over 10 minutes, not walking away mumbling expletives under my breath having accomplished absolutely nothing.

In either case, I just wasted 45 minutes and have nothing to show for it except a bag of goldfish crackers, which are a nice consulation in these times of need (yes, I found actual goldfish crackers!)

French participation theory (or lack there of)

The past week has been a difficult one for this Franco-American expat mommy. And I've been asking myself : is lack of participation cultural?

Storytime last week was truly awesome. Really. The format worked perfectly, the books were well chosen, and we had a good audience. Although I was happy that my American friend J brought some of her friends, and I was equally happy to have my almost cousins there with their 3 bilingual kids for the first time in addition to my faithful English speaking friends, I have to admit that I was really disappointed....why so disappointed when everything went so well? Because there was no one from outside my entourage. "Storytime" was published in the Lille library agenda for the entire city; I sent an email to Suzanne's entire school; the local library has an entire storytime corner packed with English and bilingual books; I talked to people in the park. So where's the audience? I just don't understand how no one from my diverse, multi-cultural, gentrified, bobo* neighborhood wouldn't want to come to a FREE english activity! It just escapes me...My almost cousin told me that it probably just needs time to pick up. In the meantime, I plan on continuing and am already planning next month's reading.

This got me thinking about the school system here and how there is no interaction with the teachers. At university here, the classes are called cours magistral (you see the word magi ie king in there?). And that's exactly what they are. The teacher comes to class, talks, and leaves. There are no questions from students; there are no questions from the teacher; There is no interaction. (PERIOD).

This type of behavior carries into the professional sphere. Yesterday, I was part of a team of people who gave a presentation (admittedly extremely boring) to a French audience. In my profession, it is rare to have a mono-lingual audience; I am used to not only giving presentations in English, but also giving them to a multi-lingual audience. Yesterday, despite saying before, after and during, that they could stop us to ask questions, no one did. Compared to the 2 day marathon seminar I led 2 months ago, this was a shock. Two months ago, there were questions for me, for other participants, interaction...but yesterday, you wondered if the people's brains were even functioning.

To me, all three situations - storytime, the university and presentations - go back to the same thing. And I know this is going to be a huge steroetype, but from what I've seen, many French people are so held back by norms and strict lines of hierarchy, that they don't dare speak up for fear of being different.

So is lack of participation cultural?

* bobo = bohemian bourgeous = kind of like a grungy, crunchy person with money.

Grève season is open!

I'm not actually sure grève season ever ended this year. It would be an understatement to say that much of French society is unhappy with the recent changes in France - both proposed and accepted.

My college French professor told us that striking was France's favorite passtime. The first time I came to France, I was told that the French only strike when the weather is nice. It seems true enough, but there's a reason for that. When the weather's nicest, you can affect the most people.

It's true that the winter's been particularly bad so is it a coincidence that the striking has picked up again now that it's no longer uncomfortable to be outside? Or maybe it's that there are local elections coming up in a couple months...

I still have trouble with the strikes at times, they get on my nerves, I have to use vacation time to watch my school-age daughter. But, the longer I stay here, the more I appreciate the freedom to strike. Striking in the US just isn't the same. Changing the current system - retirement, social security, the centralized education system, job security - touches the heart of most French people. All of these points are so engrained in French society (for most people I'll hasten to say) that any change becomes very personal.

Sometimes I laugh to myself (or outloud) like when they changed full retirement to 62. HAHAHAHA! But, as a full-fledged member of French society, I also appreciate the current social advantages which give my kids free education from the age of 3, subsidized housing, subsidized child-care for children under 3, full maternity leave for a couple months (better than the US for sure!), parental leave, low cost healthcare, 5 weeks plus of leave per year...The bottom line is, all of these things contribute to a happier and healthier society as a whole. And believe it or not, France is a very productive country . Personally, it doesn't feel like a bastion of productivity, but I guess they manage to get things done. Somehow.

Exercising my Franco-American rights

Today I exercised my French rights. I'm not talking about the existential rights that exist in France like letting your dog crap wherever it wants or 2 hour lunches. I'm talking about voting.

Since I am technically French, I do take voting seriously, even if I don't know much about the candidates or the actual electoral system in France! Today was the first round of the municipal elections. And as I learned over a couple glasses of "méthode" a few weeks back, I wasn't actually voting for the mayor. I was voting for the mayor and her list of 40+ people. I have a hard time actually understanding that you are voting for the mayor's councillors since, in the US, you vote for the big wig and the big wig chooses his/her councillors, second in command, or what have you. So I was a little surprised to see such a long ballot...

And as with the presidential elections, I really had the intention of voting green in the first round but when it came down to it, I just couldn't. The two party rule kicked in and that little voice in my head said "make sure your vote counts" so I voted socialist...also because the person who is indirectly responsible for my job was on the list so I kind of felt obliged in some way. Old habits die hard.

As for voting in presidential elections, I learned a lot over a glass of grape juice about a week ago. In fact, you vote for the president who is kind of like a king in many ways. He/she then chooses his/her ministers including the Prime Minister who has more power than the president. Seems rather strange to me that the PM, the person who is actually out there leading the country, isn't even elected by the people...or maybe I misunderstood.

So, I may not be physically voting in the US this year, but at least I get to exercise my physical right to vote in France. Even if I won't get the same pleasure of seeing that dip shit president of mine (which one you ask?) leave office...

Haircut 100

If I add up the number of haircuts I've gotten in my life, I've probably had more in France. And still, I don't know anything about haircut etiquette.

I've asked around many a time, but it seems that not even my French friends are up on their haircut etiquette. Some say yes, some say no. Even a friend whose mother is a coiffeuse couldn't tell me (which I guess is normal since she's never paid to be coiffed in her life).

In the US (can I say at home?) I know how to tip. But tipping in France isn't the norm, or used to not be. I've always tipped my coiffeurs and they've always looked at me with such gratitude that I feel all warm and fuzzy...unlike in the US where tipping is expected no matter how lame your hair is or how bad your service is. But lately, I've noticed more and more tip boxes : at the sandwich store, at the bar and chez my new coiffeur.

There's a bright pink piggy bank watching guard over the register. And as I went to hand my hair-savior a nice tip for making a tired, over worked young mother feel all pretty (ie less haggard and pale), he told me to put it in the piggy since they pool their tips.

At least I've got the restaurant thing down, I think.

So here's the big question : how much do you tip your coiffeur and DO you tip your coiffeur?

Plastic fruit

I was a deprived kid. I didn’t have an easy bake oven. I didn’t have a Snoopy snow cone machine. But I did have a toy kitchen with a “working” sink and a shopping cart with plastic food but somehow I think my daughter's experience may be quite different from mine.

The other day, Suzanne and her French-English friend M (who she calls Tu’la) had fun playing with the shopping cart M got for her 1^st birthday. Whereas I had a shopping cart full of apples, oranges, bananas and the occasional red pepper. Our girls were playing with bananas, a navel orange, a beef steak tomatoes, bulbs of fennel, bunches of leeks and head of lettuce.

I’m not sure if this says something about the way kids are raised in France as mini-gourmets (remember the baby food flavors?), something about American eating habits or just plain cultural differences.

But it was hysterical watching my daughter juggling a bulb of fennel in one hand, leeks in the other and a bunch of bananas hanging out of her mouth.

Then again, who am I to talk? Doesn't my child regularly play with a piece of horse radish root from her toy seder plate?

Champagne...not!

We had lunch at my in-laws' yesterday before heading over to meet Suzanne's new second cousin (or is it first cousin once removed)? Anyway, to drink we had a choice of organic orange juice or la méthode. My FIL was serving it like a kir royal so I'm wondering if this is white wine, sparkling white wine, mousseux, crémant, clairette, or one of the other various sparking white beverages the French have that aren't champagne (can you tell my in-laws are into wine?). As the meal goes on, and we start talking about the municipal elections (which was obviously way too much for me since I was only drinking organic juice) I finally asked the question: what is la méthode? The answer, quite simply, is champagne that cannot be called champagne because it is from a different region.

Which brings me to the bottle of real champagne that's been sitting in my fridge for over a month now. For the holidays my boss (who I adore not only because he's great, but because he has a very Anglo-Saxon way of managing!) gave us each a bottle as a gift. We decided to save it for a special occasion. Since it wasn't consumed at New Year's, we decided to wait until the big day - the day GDF came. Every time I open the fridge, I see this lonely bottle sitting next to Suzanne's milk.

On Thursday night, I come home rather late from a drink at my boss' (cool he invites us over to get sloshed, right? He even rolled around on the floor with Suzanne who didn't drink by the way), Jérôme asks me in a kind of rhetorical way when we would drink the champagne. I respond that it's for when GDF comes. He informs me that they came: we now have a new counter and they drilled a hole in the sidewalk to set up the gas line. I see the look in his and I ask, "but do we have gas?"

So, the champagne is still in the fridge getting colder and colder, but I think this deserves some sort of celebration, just the fact that GDF actually exists is enormous! so, let's break out the méthode!

Unhappy New Year

I may be the only American to ever have taken part in a this franco-french ritual- les voeux (new year's wishes) given by the President of the Regional Council. And I lived to tell...

There were over 1000 people (of the over 5000 who work for the Regional Council assembled in the concert hall where the DGS (directeur général des services aka the guy who does all the work but doesn't have the power of signature) gave his voeux to everyone, thanking the president for a wonderful year and then giving us our gift : a hand cranked flashlight. He even mentioned "us", the 35 people from 14 different countires working for territorial cooperation and bringing a butt load of European funds and prestige to the region. After an hour of thank yous from the 8 vice presidents of the region and 20 or so minutes in which the President indirectly belittled Sarko who came to Lille in a private TGV for his voeux aux fonctionnaires (wishes to the civil service) earlier in the week (in which he and his entire entourage took 5 private buses to go the 1km from the station to the Préfecture effectively shutting down the entire city and then promised general job insecurity in the public service and the mayor of Lille gave him a bike custom made for his size) there was a show: a burlesque opera called Le Petit Opera Therapeutique which opened with the following verse "many babies seem dead when born"and sang on for another 30 minutes about various ways to help asphixiation (it was actually kind of funny but strange). This was followed of course by alcohol and local snacks like waffles, caramel and some sort of bread pudding which looked like regurgitated cat food.

So the next time you wonder why french civil servants are unhappy, unpleasant, depressed, overwieght, alcoholic or seem to take advantage, look no further than the new year's voeux.

New year, new French?

(I know this picture is offensive because it's obviously a North African doing the work, but I posted it anyway because it just totally and completely exemplifies the gas/electric/phone/anything company).

So it's a new year and there should be lots of good things to write about. Change is in the French air...

How 'bout the kick off of the twice yearly sales and my lovely new trench coat I've been eyeballing for months or the non-smoking restaurants so you can actually taste your food and see the decor or the fact that we can now choose the schools we want our children to go to thus avoiding putting Suzanne in the crappiest school in Lille. But I feel uninspired...maybe it's because of the house. That's the only thing that does not seem to be affected by the New Year.

When we last left our protagonist, GDF -the GAs Company - didn't come due to an energy strike and we had no further news so, pulling strings, the General Secretary of a major labor union balled out some little guy. They swore up and down that they'd come twice last week, once to connect the lines in the house and once to do whatever they had to do with the outside lines. I think you can guess the rest...

Jerome finally got a hold of the ghost-gas company who finally told him the problem - they hadn't gotten permission from the city to make holes in the street! See, this is what people have always told me about France - the right and the left hand don't work together! In the past, this has worked to my advantage (like when I was here on a tourist visa for an extended period of time and no one noticed) but in this case...crap, do you think this is my bad karma that's doing this? Should I start a list like Earl Hickey? Or is the power of French administration so strong that not only does it bypass my bad karma, but it's an all encompassing karmic cycle all to itself. Oh God. I can see this snowballing. Must stop writing before head explodes.

There is some positive - electricity will be done this week, plasterers coming on February 5th (assuming there is heat) and bathtub is installed. Hopefully all the banisters will be up by the time my mother comes in mid-February, otherwise, I don't think she'll be seeing the upstairs at all.

Sicko continued

I must admit that we never actually finished watching Sicko a couple months ago until last night when Jérôme said, "should we just get Sicko over with?" So we did.

I don't have anything else to add about the actual content. I mean, Micheal Moore makes some good points but it's the way he goes about making those points that really gets on my nerves. It's Micheal Moore and he's got an agenda, a point to prove, and he's a pain in the ass and goes for the shock factor. But the real problem with his movies is that, rather than helping the US, he's harming it. What I mean is that he makes us look so bad, that I'm not surprised the French for instance leave his movies saying all Americans are dumb/fat/violent/rich/etc. He's actually creating anti-american sentiment much of the time. Don't get me wrong - he has a point about the government, the health care system, arms, education...

If you want to see a good movie that sends some of the same messages without the anti-Americanism and without the "star" factor, you should watch The End of Suburbia. It gets the same point across without all the Michael Moore-ism.

That's it for today's rant.

The strike update and logic à la française

The forecast for train traffic for Wednesday and Thursday were supposed to be published at 4pm yesterday. At 4pm, there was a press release available on the SNCF site informing clients that there would be reinforced customer service and that, oh, train info would be available at 5pm. So when I got home at 6, I threw myself at the computer and learned that 1) only a few trains would be going between Lille to Paris with none passing through the airport and 2) strikes were called through the end of the weekend.

This morning, I logged onto the Air France website and found that my original Lille-Roissy by train had been rerouted through Toulouse by plane. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm very pleased that Air France was so reactive and took the initiative to find a solution. But I'm still wondering how they thought I was going to make my 1:30pm flight from Paris if they were putting me on a 2pm flight to Toulouse then a 3:30pm flight to Paris. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and say it was a computerized system.

In any case, when I called Air France this morning to explain that their rerouting was totally impossible and that I had in fact found a friend to drive me down on Wednesday night, they said they thought they could make the change but would have to check if I would be charged! The ticket agent put me on hold while I prepared my rant about refusing to pay and demanding a manager. The agent got back on the phone and told me no problem!

France is never so easy as it is the night before a strike...now all I have to worry about is how I'm going to get Suzanne to sleep tomorrow night in a real bed shared with me.

And for your viewing pleasure, Sarko being called an "asshole" :

striking and anarchy and dancing cats, oh my!

I wanted to write about Suzanne and how she's speaking more and more French but also start to string words together and make little sentences that those who know her language understand. And how the past couple days she's been asking for "eon do" which means dancing cats which means the Aristocats' song. And how she says "oisson" for fish (poisson) and is obsessed with buses and I'm so excited for her to play with my friends' little ones in NJ and that she's going to have her first real Thanksgiving with part of my family. And I'm hoping 12 days in the US will reinforce her English more because she's speaking a little too much French for my liking.

But then I wanted to bitch and moan about the French and their national pastime of striking. And how before they strike, they have to notify the public and that there is supposed to be a rail strike starting next Tuesday and since I fly out on Thursday and my first leg of the trip is by train, I’m worried and might either have to sleep in Paris the Wednesday night or have someone drive me or just hopefully get a train since, if I miss the train and it’s actually running, I cancel out the rest of my trip. I also wanted to write about the university students demonstrating at the moment because of the new laws proposed by the Minister of Education. My first reaction was, “oh, they are demonstrating because they have to pay 350€ a year” to which Jerome replied that was a very “right wing” answer but coming from a country where you have to sell the soul of your first born, it was a totally normal reaction. But actually the new law would basically push the university system closer to private universities: making them more selective, making each university responsible for its own budget, hiring and contracts (at the moment, there’s a national pool that gets distributed unevenly between say La Sorbonne and all the rest), and making professor’s jobs less secure (since they are state employees at the moment). This all means that universities, which are currently open to anyone with a bac (end of high school exam), will be selective and it will make universal universities a thing of the past.

And then all this crazy political stuff happened in Belgium and I got a history lesson from my Belgian office mate about the complexity of the BHV – a small community of French speakers who technically live in Flanders but are part of Brussels. And how they have been voting for French speakers but yesterday the Flemish representatives from that community voted to no longer allow the French speakers to vote for French speaking representatives in BHV. And that this could be a monumental event because Belgium is actually held together by the King

So anyway, I wanted to write about all that but I’m a little tired from just thinking about the complexity of it all so I'll leave you with a picture from the Belgian newspaper, Le Soir :

(At worst, Mr. Sarkozy, you'll come get my wife and me by plane? )

What other country can laugh about themselves, the frailty of their own country and government as well as the powerlessness of their leader better than the Belgians?

bisous and germs and stuff...encore!

I should repost the post from a couple weeks ago about unhygienic bisous. It seems more appropriate now since, earlier this week, Suzanne broke out in strange sores around her mouth. After a couple days, I finally brought her to the doctor's because it was far beyond a canker sore or teething (ie was also on her feet and hands). Guess what the culprit is? Yup, cold sores, fever blisters, bouton d'herpès.

As I ranted to the doctor (not my normal bisousing doctor) about people bisousing with cold sores, he calmly told me that it wasn't necessarily the bisous' fault - it could have been a kid who she shared a toy with. But yes, he said, people don't realize it's a virus and is contagious. He also told me that not bisousing someone because of a cold sore, although a good idea, was a major faux pas. Who's side is he on anyway?

So it looks like I'm stuck bisousing. And it also looks like I've proved I'm either clairvoyant or damned.

Lille the trendy

Lille is a trendy place. Don't let anyone in the "South" (ie anywhere more southern than beyond the Autoroute du Nord) tell you Lille is an unimportant city. The lillios in the Vieux Lille even take themselves for Parisians most of the time. There are two new trends I've noticed of late here in Lille.

Labels There is a slew of new bars/cafes and restaurants cropping up. And for some reason, they all feel the need to label themselves. There’s the sandwich place that calls itself a “cozy bar”, the lunch place that calls itself a “contemporary bar”, and the fancy brasserie that calls itself a “trendy bar”. Trendy people pretend to speak English or at least use certain words and this place is geared towards the young, wannabe expat artsy crowd. But they obviously don’t realize that no one in their right mind would actually label themselves “trendy” in English. It’d be like openly calling yourself a fake or an incompetent or an asshole. “Hi, I’m an asshole. Wanna be my friend?” Anyway…The place also gives cooking lessons which shouldn’t surprise me except every time I’ve eaten there, I’ve hated me food.

Muffins Muffins have come to Lille. Blueberry, cinnamon, red currant, chocolate chip, rhubarb. Covent Garden and Nottinghill Café have decent muffins that filled the void a few weeks ago (not surprising with such English sounding names?!). Honey and Pie sells them but they are vile – the blueberry muffin has no real fruit, but is filled with a purply-pink goo that tastes of fake fruit and flowers. And the Muffin Café, which I pass every day on my way to work…doesn’t sell them at all. I once asked the owner of Covent Garden how he makes his muffins. The answer? He imports muffin mix from the US!

Taking into account these two trends, I think I could make a niche for myself. Maybe not the New Jersey diner I dream of opening one day or even the Whole Food's franchise I dream someone else will open but, don't you think a cozy fat-free organic muffin café would do well? I just need to import everything and we're set.

And for a name, what about...The Muffin Top Café? I think it's inspired!

Bisous and germs and stuff...again.

I've already said that I'm not an expert in the art of bisous and that I especially dislike my doctor's bisous, but there's more..

When I first came to France, I joined a gym like all good Americans do. And after becoming a regular, I noticed a strange phenomenon - the trainer bisoused hello and goodbye, no matter whether you were sweaty or not. Can you imagine the amount of sweat collected on his cheek by the end of the day?

This grossness continues in the park these days, since I no longer have time to go to the gym, when I encounter a fellow runner/acquaintance. Big, sweaty bisous. It always throws me off...

It once again got me thinking of all the cold sores- called button de herpes in French - that are oh so contagious and totally wigged me out. And I thought of the oozing herpes sore an unnamed family member had while I was pregnant and how I couldn't bring myself to say DON'T TOUCH ME WITH THAT THING (in a nice way of course). And all the other germs my doctor's bisous have.

So here's the question: why is it that the only thing that keeps the French from bisousing is a cold? Not a button herpes and not sweat?! And why is the cold a bisous barrier since the general belief in France is that you catch a cold by sitting in a draft?

Trouble in the Sarko-dom.

This article made me snigger. I think all town halls should refuse to put up Sarko's picture because it's really not a very good one (followed by the bablefish mangled translation (that I haven't fixed because I think it's funny).

Sarkozy privé de portrait par un village creusois
Le conseil municipal de Sannat, village de 380 habitants de l’est de la Creuse, a refusé, par cinq voix contre quatre, de suspendre en mairie le portrait du président de la République Nicolas Sarkozy, a-t-on appris jeudi auprès du maire Henri Sauthon.

«La question s’est posée lorsqu’on nous a proposé de recevoir un portrait du président», a indiqué à l’AFP l’édile, un exploitant agricole de 81 ans à la retraite qui se dit sans étiquette. «Lors de la séance, mardi, certains se sont élevés contre cet accrochage et un élu a demandé un vote qui s’est soldé par un refus à la majorité de cinq voix contre quatre», a-t-il expliqué précisant que l’accrochage du portrait du président en mairie n’était «pas une obligation légale».

«Il n’y avait eu aucun problème pour afficher Jacques Chirac, qui reste accroché aux murs de la mairie, au côté de François Mitterrand et Jean Jaurès qui, s’il n’a jamais été président de la République, conserve son prestige de grand démocrate», a estimé le maire.

«Ici, nous nous faisons une haute idée de la démocratie, de la République. Nous sommes certes un peu rebelles. Nous avons peut-être la tête un peu dure. Tout le monde n’est pas béni oui-oui. Ce n’est pas pour autant que nous sommes des sauvages», a conclu le maire de Sannat.


Sarkozy private of portrait by a village creusois the town council of Sannat, village of 380 inhabitants of the east of Hollow, refused, by five votes against four, to suspend in town hall the portrait of the president of the Republic Nicolas Sarkozy, one learned Thursday near the mayor Henri Sauthon. "the question arose when one proposed to us to receive a portrait of the president", indicated to AFP the municipal official, a farmer 81 years to the retirement which is said without label. "At the time of the meeting, Tuesday, some protested against this fixing and an elected official asked for a vote which showed a refusal in the majority of five votes against four", it explained specifying that the fixing of the portrait of the president in town hall was not "not a legal obligation". "There had been no problem to post Jacques Chirac, who remains hung with the walls of the town hall, at the side of François Mitterrand and Jean Jaurès who, if he were never a president of the Republic, preserves his prestige of large democrat", estimated the mayor. "Here, we have a high idea of the democracy, Republic. We are certainly a little rebellious. Perhaps we have the a little hard head. Everyone is not blessed oui-oui. They are not in so far as we are savages ", concluded the mayor from Sannat.

Ramblings about France and salt for Michael Moore

Last week we finally watched Sicko. If you'd been a fly on the wall, you'd have repeatedly heard me saying, "gross!" or ," we are never moving to the US." Sorry Mom! To answer your questions, yes the French health care system is that good. And yes, most people don't have debt, don't worry about putting money away so their unborn children can go to college. And then there's all the vacation...But always take Michael Moore's with a grain of salt. The "average, middle class" family in Paris interviewed in the movie is NOT middle class. If you just take their income as a basis, it is equivalent to a US middle class income. However, salaries in France tend to be lower than American salaries and so is the cost of living. So the family he interviewed was more "comfortable" than "middle class".

That said, I was stuck in the middle of one of those typical French conversations last week where you listen to the very knowledgeable French people around you discuss politics, Sarkozy's new immigration law, health care, Sufi literature and you just shake your head in agreement. One of those conversations that makes you feel small and unworldly and stupid. Young mothers just don't have time to keep up with the news! The basic gist of the conversation was something like Sarkozy is privatizing everything so in 50 years the system France knows will not be the same. There will be no health socialized health care, no universal access to university education, less vacation, more work, less immigration and the public housing will be gone. Also, Sarkozy's immigration laws are anti-French and anti-socialist because he is preventing rapprochement familial (immigrants from joining their families), where family is the foundation of good values and good citizens.

One of the wonderful things about France is that the people are taken care of for the most part, mostly in a preventative way, not coddled but sometimes abused. France has wonderful social housing - I should know since I've lived in it for 5 years. And the health care is top notch. I had a free 5 day stay in the maternity ward of a public hospital- they tacked on the 5th day just to make sure I had the breast feeding thing down pat. Over the past 5 years, I've had physical therapy a few times and gotten my orthopedic insoles renewed every year whereas in the US, the HMO wouldn't pay for the insoles or physical therapy but would pay for a new knee!

And although Sarkozy may be leaning toward the American model, I don't see the French people or government giving in without a fight. Drastic changes to the social system would cause some serious civil unrest. One of my good friend's husbands is a political science professor at a top US university. During the French elections he said that Sarkozy wasn't so bad. True that because of the basic context of the French system, Sarkozy is more socialist, more left wing than most left wing American politicians. But in that same context, he is much more right wing than anyone before him.

Say what you will about France, the French, the waits, the administration, the dog shit...but it's a great country to live in. Less worries for more hassles maybe, but less debt, less stress, more holiday. You decide.

And don't forget that salt for Michael Moore.

Violence...why?

The French - actually, the entire world - complains about violence in America. Granted, there are lots of guns which would equate to more murder I suppose (fill in the blank with scenes from "Bowling for Columbine" with an entire salt shaker). But although there are less guns in France, there sure is a lot of theft and assaults. Every French person I've ever met is so extremely worried about people seeing the inside of their house, taking public transportation after 7pm and not leaving anything at all visible in a car because it could get stolen, even the most useless, worthless thing.

I don't have numbers. I just know that there is violence here. And it might not lead to a shoot out but my poor pizza guy, who is so very nice, definitely doesn't deserve whatever happened to him.

Jerome went to get pizza last night and found a note taped to the door saying that they were temporarily closed because Denis had been assaulted...I hope he's ok soon. I think I'll bring him some brownies when they reopen.

How Tina Turner saves French administration

July 4th, 2000...

I was living in Paris, had just quit my job and was enjoying the end of my life in France before going home forever. And what do you know? The legendary Tina Turner comes to Paris for her last tour EVER. I HAD to go so I bribed a friend - a fellow francophile who was visiting me for a couple weeks - to come celebrate July 4th with me, Tina and thousands of others at the Stade de France.



Being the die hard Tina fan that I am, I brought my camera - back in the days of rolls of film. Of course picture taking was forbidden during the concert. So my friend and I went to the coat check where we handed in our cameras. They stuck a sticker on the back and told us to come back after the concert. My friend and I looked at each other and wondered what kind of French organization scam this was since we had no claim tickets.

We danced and sang with Tina for over 2 hours. We marvelled at her 60 year old legs (better than either of ours would ever be!) and wondered how she could dance to "Proud Mary" on her signature high heals.

The concert ended and we went to collect our cameras, finding a group of people standing there, waiting. Since the French are genetically programmed to not line up, there was just a mass of people waiting. After 15 minutes or so, someone from the stadium showed up, unlocked the shed where our belongings were and began asking people what they had left in as organized a manner as possible since there was no line and no claim tickets. All at once, everyone started yelling. Camera. umbrella. coat. Etc. Meanwhile, the stadium worker sifted through what was probably hundreds of camera trying to find the black canon model whatever. One. at. a. time.

At this point, someone from the crowd jumped over the counter so he could help sift through people's belonging. Eventually, we got our cameras.

As we sat on the RER on our way back to Paris, we marvelled at the fact that we actually got our cameras back and wondered once again how this country could function and could be a world power seeing as the organizational skills were clearly nonexistent.

To this day, whenever I get annoyed in the Post Office or the Prefecture or any of the number of utilities people for their complete and total lack of organization, time, or general regard for others, I think back to July 4th 2000 and Tina makes everything all better.

Here, baby, have a coke.

(note: not my child but could be)

I'm always happy when I can break an American stereotype.

When I first got to France, people asked me if I had a gun, a big car, could find fresh fruit and vegetables, drank a lot of coke and ate McDonald's at every meal. Maybe my family is an exception to the American way of life, but we always ate well (Mom's a good cook), had fresh fruits and vegetables and didn't eat much junk when we were kids. McDonald's was for special (read emergency occasions) like road trips to Massachusetts or to Willow Lake.

So when we went to my husband's annual family BBQ yesterday, I was prepared to eat junk. I drank some coke (mostly because I had a migraine) and ate some potato chips. That's what you do. But I was shocked, floored, flabbergasted when I saw little 2 1/2 year old Zoe drinking coke in her baby bottle! I was even more shocked because when I imagine a baby bottle with coke, I think in stereotypes (poor, low educated, living in a trailer park) and she and her family would be the opposite extreme of that stereotype (well off, well educated, living in a mansion). Jerome's dentist cousin even told little Zoe that, as a "tooth doctor" she was telling her coca is bad.

In the car driving back to Lille, I mentioned this to Jerome and we decided that maybe you just don't care anymore when you get to the 5th child.

So there you go - another way that America is negatively influencing France.

Maybe in 15 years, when Suzanne goes off to the States for a visit, her little American friends will be asking her if all French people drink coke and eat McDonald's.