Archives: March 2006
« February 2006 |
Main
| April 2006 »
Well now this will be interesting.
School has been called off (again) for a general strike on Tuesday. My boss told me not to bother coming in this weekend because he (not me) didn't prepare correctly and thus I don't have the stuff I need to work on. I also got paid today. Wee... it's springtime in Paris and I have Friday, Saturday, Sunday, possibly Monday, and part of Tuesday FREE.
I was so happy about this development that I walked home from work this evening. It's quite far. It's even further when you get lost and do a complete circle like I did (literally, a 20 minute circle). But, I didn't care because it was a beautiful evening, and I even stumbled upon some parts of Paris I have never seen before (hence the getting lost).
But whatever! I can get lost all I want, because I don't have to work for days. That means time! For me! And all of the other things I've been wanting to do for the last two months.
I'm determined to use my time off to finish the projects I've been meaning to finish but haven't had the time/energy: two web sites to fiddle with, a house to clean, books to sell (tons), Arabic to master, and a planet to conquer. I'm thinking I can get it all done by Sunday evening, so that I can go somewhere cute with The Boy and make him buy me dinner. 'Cause I can't cash my paycheck until Monday.
I had a killer class this morning. Sometimes learning gets me high as a kite, and today was that type of day. Call me a dork if you want to (I DARE you), I'll say it straight up: my grammar lecture RULED.
I remember when I was learning French, things got really interesting about year three. That was when we started mixing things up a little bit - some subjonctif here, some futur antérieur there. Making the jump from saying, "I have a red house" to "I would have had a red house if we hadn't painted it purple" was such an exciting leap... as I was only 12 or 13 at the time, I remember thinking, "Oh, so wow? Other languages have different layers like that, too?" Please forgive me for being stupid. I just told you, I was young. Regardless, I don't think I conciously was aware of how complicated it actually was -- in all languages I've studied to date, the grammar exercises are usually based on just plugging-and-chugging elements into a formula at the top of the page -- but I DO remember being really thrilled when went from understanding basic phrases to more intricate verb structures.
Which is why today was so cool in class. In one day, we covered the imperfect, past perfect and future perfect. It's so easy in Arabic! (I can't believe I just wrote that) We also dipped a little into the subjonctive, but the prof stopped after his first point for timing reasons. I was like, "No!! No!!! Keep teaching me about the subjonctive!!!" But then I decided not to say that out loud, because I would like to maintain whatever friends I might have made in my class thus far.
Read more »Today is an unexpected day off. Yes, yes, the protests are important. But the rate at which life is flying by right now, I am simply delighted to have a day to go to the bank (yeahhhh... I bounced a six-euro check) and do the laundry.
By the way, I dream - simply DREAM - of having a washing machine in my house. I promise, I would never, EVER take it for granted. I love doing the laundry itself -- whenever I am in the US, I throughly enjoy the entire process. But here? With the climbing and the packing and waiting for the machine while the stinky bum tells me about his last trip to Poitiers? If it's not the jabbering bum, it's the old lady who needs me to push the "start" button because she can't see it (although I sort of love her, in a way) or the creepy guy in the corner who is obviously trying to gatch a glimpse of my skivvies as I load them into the machine.
Plus - with that whole bounced-check episode under my belt, I'd really enjoy not paying 20 euros for clean socks.
Anyway, I've spent the morning catching up on news, contacting some publishers, selling some books, yada yada. Very productive morning, and I love feeling semi-accomplished before the day is even half over (or have started?). I've done it all with RFI in the background - first in Spanish, then in Arabic. Adjusting the ear, if you will. The teachers say this is necessary... I don't know how much I agree, but I figure it can't hurt. With Spanish, in particular, it's important, as it's my only regular exposure to the language these days.
So I got to thinking about translations while I was reading the article in Spanish entitled "Los jóvenes franceses no encuentran trabajo". This would translate without any problem into French: "Les jeunes français ne trouvent pas de travail."
But when I went to mentally translate it into English, it didn't work:
- The young French don't find work
- The young French find no work
Both sound weird and off to me. The most natural next step is to say, "The young French can't find work." But then that changes meaning, doesn't it? That would imply they're trying, and I'm not totally sure that's the case, right? At least, not given the Spanish title, or it's French translation.
It's always interesting to spot semantic differences. Can anybody think of making this sentence work? Maybe it's obvious and I'm just missing it.
Anyway. I'm not there yet with Arabic. Maybe by next year, I'll be able to translate that sentence. However, I will say one thing: it is very surreal to listen to a broadcast in Arabic about Johnny Cash "The King of Country Music" (I actually understood that, which is also quite surreal).
UPDATE: I didn't bounce the check. You have no idea how proud I am of myself.
UPDATE II: I get so much done on days where I don't have to go to school or to work. I should do this every day!
It sounded like gunshots. Then screaming. As I ran to my window, I saw maybe 50 people in black, hooded sweatshirts running up Odessa Street. They jumped on cars, broke their windows. Storefronts closed quickly, efficiently, as several hundred other people followed their leaders, trailing behind the lightning-fast black mob. The followers didn't break anything; they clearly weren't a part of the smallish group at the front. However, the noise and chaos was enough to scare the locals - everyone ran into the nearest shop or restaurant that hadn't yet pulled down their grill. Other non-protesters ran down the street - in the opposite direction - I suppose assuming that it is better to go where the action came from than where it's headed. When the attacking mob got to the end of the street, a serpent-like motion formed, and they jumped onto one of the local cafe terraces. I couldn't see what they did, but I assume it wasn't positive, judging by the screaming of the patrons.
It took maybe five minutes to destroy the street. Glass is everywhere, a few shops have what I assume is a couple thousand euros worth of damage, and the kids are most likely off to their next location.
Now the riot police are downstairs, filtering people down to the plaza. It is filled with young demonstrators (?) milling about. Traffic is a standstill, sirens are blaring, people are yelling. Oddly, I had just noted this morning that for some reason, the riots haven't been happening in my neighborhood this time. Even though my area is a gathering place for many protests, I figured that the demonstrators were sticking to the Sorbonne area to do their damage. But now I see it's spreading.
All-too-familiar with the gendarmes and their "authoritative ways," I'm not that excited to have to leave my house in 20 minutes.
I support the protests, and see the point in them. I do not, however, support well-executed attacks on small-scale merchants and innocent automobiles. It's a shame that some people have to go and attach a bad name to the otherwise thousands of peaceful protesters.
Update:
Read more »Yesterday at work, I was put in charge of the store for a few hours. It was only supposed to be two, but it eventually proved to be a four-hour stint.
This is funny, because I normally work in the office. My boss said he would need me to replace him for a bit, starting at noon. So when I arrived at 11.30, expecting him to be there, I was surprised that he had already left. I was given no training, and had fortunately had some experience using a similar cash register at another store. Additionally, as this job is relatively new, I am hardly familiar with all of the books, and am still working on getting the layout of the three-floor store. To make matters worse, all of the books are being rearranged, so there are currently piles everywhere. What was previously the section on surrealists is now Japanese prints, and so on. It's almost impossible to know where to find things.
"How am I going to know where all the books are?" I asked two days ago, when he requested I fill in for him. I was going to be working alone, and this seemed to be a rather important problem.
"No worries," said the boss, "If you don't know, you don't know..."
That was reassuring, coming from him, but was an entirely different story when standing in front of the customers.
"Hello," said one charming man, "I was just wondering if you have the 1966 exhibition catalogue of LKNOINQLING -- but I'm looking for the one with his drawings, not his paintings."
Right. "Could you spell LKNOINQLING, please?"
Read more »Montparnasse is a busy metro stration, and stategically placed at one of its most frequented exits is Blondi. That's Blondi, without an E, to emphasize the masculin. Blondi is of medium build, curly-headed, and potentially Brazilian, Portugese, or maybe Spanish. He is also the most energetic and enthusiastic fruit-seller Paris has.
Every day, Blondi stands at the base of the steps leading down from my street and into the metro. To his right, a wall. To his left, the continuously clacking doors of the metro exits. BOOM. BOOM! Ba-BOOM!
Blondi apparently doesn't mind, he just shouts over the noise.
"Mama mia! These orange come straight from Marocco! You've never seen more beautiful oranges in your life!!! Look, I'll open them... perfecto!"
"These avocados! Do you know how declicious these avocados are? Hey, beautiful young lady! Stop and look at the beautiful avocados!"
"Dear sir! You're going to be amazed by my strawberries. They're perfect, and so red and tasty!"
These kinds of phrases are all shouted at high volumes, his arms flailing and gesturing and holding up fruit, all in one fluid motion shrouded in a mass of bouncing, curly hair. Sometimes, he wears a hat, just to keep the hair out of the way.*
I love Blondi in a way I can't quite understand. He's part of the colorful backdrop that is my neighborhood - I see him almost daily, and his attitude never fails to be almost freakishly positive. Personally, I'm a little afraid to buy fruit from him, as he tends to make a spectacle out of the buying-and-selling process. But I can't help but be impressed by his motivation to sell, and his obvious love for what many would consider to be a horrible job.
Today, I especially liked his spiel. Mangos were splayed out on his fruit table, some of the cut open "artistically" so as to incite people to buy. His technique worked, apparently, as I saw several middle-aged women testing the mangos and nodding in approval. As I walked past, I heard the words "juicy" "delicious" and "perfect" in the shouting festival that is a part of Blondi's act.
Approaching, I saw him pick up a mango and cup it in his hand, like he would a newborn chick. With the other hand, he began stroking the top part of the mango.
"These mangos have the most wonderful skin... don't just eat it, you have to caress it to see how soft it is. Just like a woman."
So now I'm wondering if he, in fact, loves his fruit even more than I had thought.
* The Boy asked me two summers ago, "Why does that guy who sells fruit in the metro have such an ugly wig? And then I told him that it was actually his hair, and he said, "Wow, I hadn't considered that." Just to give you an idea of how wild this guy's hair can get.
This is hilarious. After reading about using your Ipod as a divinatory device (chez Maitresse), I stopped by Nessa's and found a music-player related meme. Needing to waste some time, I did it. And it's funny.
So pull out your favorite music player, put it on shuffle, and record the order of the songs. Each song is the answer to important questions in your life:
Read more »I've been considering the CPE over the last few days... how could I not? It's everywhere. On the newspapers, in my street, on the blogs. I can see both sides of the story - and it's interesting to feel just how deeply my own cultural convictions run. But I have come to understand why so many are asking for a retraction. Their demand is justified, but I also think that the French need something - and soon - that will make the job market more dynamic and open. Maybe it would be ideal to use this proposed CPE as a jumping-off point, and actually maintain an open dialogue so that whatever the CPE becomes, it is the result of both side's wants and needs. Then again, maybe that's impossible.
Regardless, there is something magical in seeing the massive protests taking place across the country. Yes, everybody bitches about strikes when they happen - especially by transportation workers - but I find it heartening to see such political involvement, via protests, on a national scale. I have always admired the French for their interest in politics and world events -- generally, they seem far more interested and aware than their American counterparts. As a bit of a news junkie, it is always surprising to learn that my American friends don't know much about the goings-on of their own government (TheKnitter being a noted exception), making it impossible to talk about current events. They're apathetic, something which the French have overwhelmingly proven is not their case. That's an impressive feat, especially amongst the young.
And, as always, it's great to see protesters, who are otherwise not affected by the CPE, come out and support those who are.
In all of my discussions on the topic, it seems that most people are in agreement that there is some pretty severe unrest amongst the young French. The riots in the suburbs, now the protests in the streets -- these are serious grumblings of discontent. Yes, the CPE is a major issue, and one that deserves more reflection than it has had to date. But I don't get the feeling that "fixing" the CPE (or doing away with it altogether) is going to solve what is appearing more and more like a larger social problem.
The French government is proposing to provide this new sort of contract option - called a CPE - to youngsters under 26. I'm not clear on the details - something about a 2-year contract that makes it easier on the employer to fire the employee, need be, without having to justify their decision. From every single description I have ever gotten from a French person, I get three things:
1. They do not like the CPE
2. The CPE makes firing too easy
3. The contract gives you no guarantee of keeping the job forever.
I'm still waiting for someone to fully explain to me what is so bad about the contract. Obviously, I am coming from an American perspective, so to me it seems perfectly natural that you have no guarantee of keeping the job and that the boss can fire you if he/she chooses. Yes, this puts you a little bit at the mercy of your employer. However, in most cases, employers know that it's in their best interest to keep good workers. So why would they fire you if you're doing your job correctly (downsizing and budget cuts aside, of course)?
Culturally, it's a lot harder for the French to accept that somebody could fire them. This is the part of the whole issue that I don't understand, because I suppose I'm coming from the angle that a job is a job -- if you suck at it, you shouldn't get to keep it. The fact that bad workers are still keeping their jobs in this country is evident almost everywhere: this past week alone, I have had experiences with incompetent people at the post office, the bank, and the office for new companies. This is problematic not only for the business keeping the bad worker, but for its customers as well.
However, when it comes to France, in the words of my boss, "This is a country of workers, not a country of employers." While this is sort of true, I'd argue against the "country of workers" aspect when France is sort of suffocating under its 20-25% unemployement rate amongst young people.
Anyway, I'm not looking to argue about the pros and cons of the CPE. Like I said, I don't totally get it. Perhaps I don't get it because I come from a different culture, so the proposal does not seem all that outlandish to me. Or maybe I don't get it because I'm not familiar with all the details, in which case I would gladly accept someone enlighten me somewhere in the comments box. What I DO get, however, is that the French love to protest.
And today is the big day of "mobilisation" against the CPE. I only bring it up for one reason: I live at Montparnasse, an important starting or passing point for most major protests in Paris. This means that my day of relaxing and doing some much-needed work at home is no longer so pleasant, because thousands of angry teenagers and 20-somethings are setting off firecrackers on my street. There is screaming and whistles and some guy on a megaphone. And now they've started that "oh-OOOHH-oh" song that the French sing at everything. If you have ever been to a concert, after the performance ends and before the encore, this is the song they sing. Same song at a soccer game, or a drunken bash, and apparently grassroots protests.
Meanwhile, universities have shut down and there's constant debate and sit-ins everywhere. Yahoo has even created an entire sub-section of their site dedicated to the CPE. So if you can read French and want to know what all the fuss is about, go there. I think I'll go inform myself now.
Read more »I just completed my third day at my new job. Still no complaints.
However, today I worked while nobody else was at the store. My office is upstairs, so I can come in, lock the door behind me, and work in total peace and quiet every Saturday and Sunday. That's a pretty sweet deal, and I decided to try it out for the first time around 11 this morning.
All went well... I turned on the lights as was explained to me, found my stack of books to get to work on, and settled in front of my gorgeous computer.**
I worked for six hours - taking a little lunch break in between - and only noticed the time passing out of an irrational fear of getting locked in to passageway the store is in. As the sun began setting, my fears got a little sharper, and I decided to close up and head home.
I ran into two issues while closing:
1. I think some lights were on when I came in. I just couldn't remember which ones. And while closing, I tried every combination of lights possible (there are tons) and nothing looked right. I just decided on total darkness. Maybe it was totally dark when I came in? Maybe not? I don't know.
2. I was so upset about the lighting situation that I forgot to throw out the bit of trash I had in my hand. I don't have a trash bin upstairs, so I brought down the plastic cup, water bottle, and napkin I had to throw away. And prompty left them out on the table at the entrance. A nice little "Good Morning!" to my new boss, right?
I'm just a little OCD in that I had to check and double-check that I locked the doors correctly. I'm still stressing about it, even though I'm at home and obviously can't do anything about i now. But what if someone breaks in and steals all their precious books? That would be such a nightmare. At any rate, I hope to get to work tomorrow before anybody else. I will run in, throw out my trash, turn on the lights, and pretend I had no issues with closing the place on my own.
Next weekend, I'm sure I'll feel much better about all of this. But right now, that damn lighting problem and trash issue is really irking me.
I'm so waking up at seven am in a panic. I know I am.
** I am turning toward the Mac side of things. So pretty! So fun to look at! So easy to use!
So on Friday night, The Boy went out with his friend Mr. Sarcastic. When the two of them go out,** I usually know he won't be coming home until sometime after three, and most likely not very clear-headed.
I generally hate these evenings, because I can't seem to shake the experience of getting a 4 am phone call a few years back because Mr. Sarcastic had crashed his motorcyle and The Boy was flat on his back at the hospital. I spent the next month nursing The Boy back to health -- pulling chunks of road out of his arm, carrying him to the bathroom because he was in too much pain to put weight on his feet, purééing his food because he had such severe mouth/teeth injuries that he couldn't eat anything solid for three weeks. The Boy pretty much stayed in a codein haze for the first few weeks, and then was finally able to try walking without help after four. I think it goes without saying that my memories of that time were not good ones; I remember having to come back from between classes so that he could go to the bathroom, because otherwise he would just have to go in the bed.
The Boy and Mr. Sarcastic swear it wasn't drunk driving; it was that "the light turned red too quickly." I maintain that they're both in their 30's and should know better, but France just doesn't have the same sort of aggressive drunk driving awareness program as we have in the States. So when the two of them go out, I totally and completely pull that mother hen act, waiting for her teenage son to come back from God knows where. It's a little pathetic, really, but it's something I can't really control or rationalize.
This last Friday, I went to bed around 2 and then tossed and turned until 5.30, when The Boy finally stumbled his way through the door. It was relieving to see him; I had been pulling out all the dwell-on-this topics I could find to distract myself from the terrible visions of what another early morning phone call would mean.
He didn't even seem THAT drunk, which was miraculous for such a late hour. He wandered into the bedroom and got in bed, gave me a kiss and said, "I'm exhausted..." As he put his arm around me, he said, "You're hot" (meaning temperature wise, of course) and I said, "That's because I've been under the covers for hours, but sometimes when I get into bed after you, you're so hot that I feel like I'm swimming in a pool of sweat."***
This was enough to set him off, because I apparently said the word for sweat incorrectly. He laughed, made fun of me some, and then the strangest thing happened: he started a two-way dialogue. With himself.
Him: A pool of sweat. Ha! Sweat. I need to stop swimming in a pool of sweat.
Him: Right, well, then, we should just empty the sweat from the pool.
Him: But how do we empty the pool?
Him: I don't know. Maybe we should just fill the pool with water instead?
Him: We at least have to empty the pool of all the sweat first, though, before we put in the water.
Him: Right, right. Hm... well, this is a problem!
Him: Yes! I know! The pool of sweat is not an easy issue to resolve!
I've been to London several times before, but each time I like it more and more. Besides missing my parents something awful (I most often go to London either with them or to see them), I had a great time during my 2-day trip. A few thoughts:
1. I witnessed a magical moment in the Underground. As the people filed off the train and went towards the escalators, there was a bit of a traffic jam. I was shocked when I realized that everyone was waiting to get on the right side of the escalator, thereby still allowing for those in a hurry to get by on the left. The Londoners (?) actually got in a single file line (in fact, they queued up) on the right-hand side. I cannot even explain what kind of an effect this had on me. I am constantly amazed by the apparently genetic inability to wait in line properly that is passed down from Frenchie to Frenchie. If we had been in Paris, everyone would have smooshed onto the escalator - taking up both left and right sides - and then those in a hurry would have huffed and puffed and made their annoyance clearly known to the others on the escalor. Nobody would have done anything about it, of course, but someobody would have to make a big scene. Just for added tension.
But to create a line for just the right side of the escalator? Allowing those in a rush the space they need to walk up the escalator? How polite! How practical! How British!
Read more »With March, the craziness has begun. A friend said to me yesterday that she was sort of down. Why? I asked, and she said it was because she's not really into anything she's doing right now. She's busy, but not with anything she's particularly excited about.
I've been there, and it sucks. But I can officially say I am on the other side of the spectrum: I have TOO MANY things I like that are going on. This is not a good way to live, really, either. I've always had a tendency to spread myself a little thin, but the chaos? That thing I've been sort of swimming in for the last 8-10 days? It doesn't look like it's going to let up for quite a while.
But first off, my new employer has decided to start my contract March 1, instead of Feb 1, because of an electricity problem in my "office." No electricity (or electricity not up to norms) meant no internet, and no internet meant no work for me. Also? No emailing on the company clock. Just kidding, I actually think I'll have enough work and pressure and responsibility that I won't want to waste away my at-work hours. I know, I know... how did I snag a job like that? And is that really a good thing in the end? Not sure. Ask me next month. So the contract is signed. I'm still waiting for news on my internet connection.
Secondly, I am going to London this weekend on "business." Let me say that sentence again, without the self-effacing quotes: I am going to London this weekend on business. Man, it's hard to say that seriously. But it's the truth, and I might just have to wear heels for a half-day or so, just to really let it sink in that that, indeed, is what I am doing there. Business-like things.
(I just got a new laptop bag, too, so I think I'm ready)
Read more »
