Tourist Town

I suppose the last thing that you want to hear is me bitch about commercialism again, but I feel that this idea bears further examination.

This weekend, my study abroad group, a couple friends we met at the residence, and I went to Paris for the weekend to be tourists.  This visit was great, but the atmosphere of the whole city made me feel a little uneasy.

Let me start at the beginning...

According to the French Government, which has it own section dedicated to tourism, France is the most visited country in the world, bringing about 82 million tourists a year (reported in June of 2008).  Without argument, the place that receives the most tourism within France is Paris, the grand capital city.

I knew this going into Paris, but I didn't realize just how much the tourism affected the city's pulse.  Travelers are everywhere, from all over the world.  Walking down the street it wasn't uncommon to hear  four or five different conversations all occurring in four or five different languages.  And the city transit maps have big diagrams showing where the famous tourist sites are.

This section of a bus map, for example, shows the location of both the Notre Dame Cathedral and the Chatelet des Halles.

I suppose this is to be expected, but everywhere we went, the city seemed to be a giant machine catering to tourists.  There's the stereotype that Parisians are rude, but I didn't experience this when I was there.  In fact, the townies were more than happy to let tourists in on everything.  At Notre-Dame, tourists were allowed into the chapel in the middle of mass.  There were signs hung about which told everyone to be silent during the ceremonies.  No one was, of course, and during the processions and readings there was a steady din of conversation undulating around the congregation.

This would be very difficult for me to tolerate if I lived here.  The city seemed less like a place to live and more of zoo where spectators who are willing to pay a nominal fee can gawk in fleeting awe at strange beasts that live in contrived, artificial habitats.

With all the diverse people, it would be easy to label Paris a cosmopolitan center, but I don't it truly is.  There are many different peoples from many different parts of the world in the city, but most of the diversity comes tourism; travel for the sake of travel.  I think a true cosmopolitan center is one where the diversity springs from the nature of the city, a place where the people who live and travel there do so out of necessity or opportunity, as opposed for raw amusement.  When people visit for the sake of visiting, there's no integration and no exchange.  Instead of a new, integrated community that thrives in and of itself, everything is fragmented and impermanent.

That's not to say that I didn't travel for fun and gawk with the other spectators.  Gawk I did at the majesty of Notre Dame, the grandeur of the Eiffel Tower, and tranquility of the Jardin des Plantes.  Still, I wonder what I would be like to see the Arc of Triomphe or the Eiffel Tower without the fragmented nature of the modern tourist industry, to see these landmarks and wonders blend seamlessly into a more cohesive, and methinks a more beautiful, capital city.

Political discourse in France

At my civilization course on Thursday of this week, our professor, a jocular man with gaped, tobacco-stained teeth name Stephane, began the class by addressing us in a somber voice.

"Let us take a moment of silence today," he said with his hands folded, "for the newly born daughter of Nicolas Sarkozy."

At this point, most people, including me, in the class giggled at Stephane's earnest play-acting before the collective laughter forced him to break his facade and laugh as well.

"Poor, poor child," he added and began the lecture on Gaulish tribes and Clovis' empire.

Sarkozy is the right-wing, current president of France.  I am surprised to learn that the President of France's role as laid out in the constitution primarily focuses on diplomacy and international relations.  The French President, for example, has no power to veto or sign laws like the President of the United States.  That power is reserved for the Prime Minister, currently Francois Fillon, who is appointed by the President.  Furthermore, the President is in charge of the "bouton rouge" (red button).  That is, the country's nuclear arsenal.

Much like George W. Bush, Sarkozy is widely hated by the left, and his public image is largely lampooned in political cartoons and in popular opinion, as evidenced by my teacher's comment above.

Sarkozy's administration has seen an expansion of executive military and political power as well as a reduction of governmental power over economics, marking yet another similarity between him and Bush.  In addition, both Sarkozy and the National Assembly have been plagued with scandal over the past few years, most recently with the Bettencourt affair in which Sarkozy's presidental campaign has been accused of receiving illegal campaign funds under the table from Liliane Bettencourt, an heiress to the L'Oreal fortune, who may have been keeping a large portion of her money in undeclared Swiss bank accounts in order to avoid paying taxes.

Sarkozy's opposition is the Socialist party.  Socialism has long been a strong cultural force in European politics, and unlike the United States, being a socialist is as unremarkable as someone saying they are a Democrat or a Republican.  With all the scandals that have plagued the government recently, many thinkers have even considered overhauling the entire political system to exclude lobbying from special interest groups and make all government proceedings, including security proceedings, open to the public.  I think that this is unlikely, but what strikes me is the manner through which the French discuss these things.

In my lifetime, I have seen some of the most ravenous and loathsome remarks made about both Bush and Obama.  I saw Bush become so unpopular that by the end of his second term, most people saw him as completely insignificant and took for granted that everything he did was either misguided or doomed to fail.  I've seen Obama attacked as a Muslim, a Socialist (often by people who have never met real Socialists like the ones all over the place in Europe), and a natural born Kenyan.  I have seen leftists make completely irrational suggestions, like taxing the rich one hundred percent--a suggestion which doesn't make sense even if you are for reduced tax cuts on the rich. I've seen articles by conservative columnists accuse people who criticize the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan of secretly conspiring with radical, Muslim terrorists to overthrow the government.

While jesting remarks about Sarkozy and his ilk exist in everyday conversation,  I have yet to see the sort of extremist insanity that is present in American discourse.  Even those in favor of massive system overhaul aren't led by mean-spirited blow-hards who pander to fear and guilt or see everything as a cultural, battle narrative.

Keep in mind, that I'm only making comments on things I've seen thus far, and I'm downloading French political podcasts and talk-shows as we speak to get a better idea if what I'm talking about is accurate.

I came to the conclusion long ago that American rhetoricians (I use this in the academic sense, as defined by any person who is engaging in discourse) use logical short cuts and pathos to stir fickle, misinformed audiences.  I'm quite sure this exists in France and elsewhere, but in the United States this political silliness has become so woven in the fabric of everyday life.  In a less media driven culture, like France, it is less prominent.

I've spent the last five years of college studying how people communicate ideas.  I'm a big fan of proselytizing, and I think that the process of exchanging ideas is one of the best ways to foster innovation, creativity, and empathy.

Europe, both now and historically, has done this better than everyone else.  Democracy, both capitalism and Marxism, the scientific method, and a myriad of different philosophical perspectives sprang from Europe, and I'm glad to see this spirit of debate is alive and well.

2012 is election year in France, and unfortunately I will not be around to witness if anything changes.  Already there is a lot of coverage about Sarkozy's opponent from the Socialist Party, Francois Hollande, already.  I think that I will continue to follow French politics up until that time, and I hope that the exchange will not sink into the shrieking, empty theatrics that dominate American discourse.

Of course, if I am wrong about all of this and there are media hounds out there that I've missed, please let me know.  I would hate to look like the uninformed asses that I'm criticizing.

Why do you insist on Fanta? (Or America Overseas)

With the exception of expensive, high-end, dine-in restaurants and cafes, most of the places to get food in France are closed by 5 or 6 pm.

But not McDonald's.  I went into the McDonald's on the east end of campus around 7:30 Thursday of this week.  It was populated almost entirely by teenagers and featured free wi-fi and an ATM.  Another McDonald's downtown is three stories high and features its own separate coffee shop with free wi-fi and an ATM.

I approached the register which was run by a teenage girl with dyed black hair and an obsidian nose ring.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," I said.

"What would you like?"

"I would like a bacon cheeseburger with a small fry."

She punched my order into the touch pad, and the meal appeared in green letters on the register's screen.  Then she said, "We have Fanta."

"Um... okay," I said.

"Do you want a Fanta?"

"No."

"All right, that's a bacon cheesburger, a small fry,and a medium Fanta."

"No, I said that I don't want any Fanta."

"So, a small Fanta then?"

"No, I don't want anything to drink."

She removed a small, paper cup, approached the drink fountain behind the counter, and placed it under the Fanta spout.

My French can't this unintelligible, I thought to myself, and said, "Demon child, verily, I beseech thee!  Fanta was never part of our contract!"

While maintaining eye-contact, the cashier filled my cup and returned to the register, "That'll be 8.75."

Okay, so maybe that last part wasn't so eloquent, but I still made it very clear that I didn't want a Fanta or anything else to drink.

Why tell this anecdote about me failing at the most basic of communicative tasks and being punished by having to pay the equivalent of about twelve US dollars for a bacon cheeseburger,--which only had cheese, bacon, and pickels on it, by the way-- a small fry, and a juice glass's worth of Fanta?  I'm finding that American cultural and economic interests are popping up much more frequently than I originally expected.

Sure, I knew about globalization prior to coming, but there have been multiple moments over here when I've wanted to throw my hands up at just how ridiculous and intrusive snippets of American culture are weaved into the fabric of everyday life.

Case in Point

Granted, the above image was taken from one of the windows at the International Students' Residence, but there are other more glaring examples of this throughout the city.  Advertisements make heavy use of American slang, a hefty chunk, if not all, of the movies at French cinemas are American (though they often have French audio), and the music at every bar and club that I've been to is dominated by American pop music.

I'd like to point out that I'm not talking about some sweeping cultural take-over.  Still, it's a little unsettling to be in a place that is clearly foreign in nature yet has pockets of familiarity.  I came to France to get away from familiar things and to experience something new, so when I'm sneakily thrown back into my own context I get frustrated.  

Well...okay.
**Gleefully enters and orders an Italian BMT**

I suppose getting mad at Subway and McDonald's, which both have the resources to spread around the globe, is a little irrational.  Still, I wonder if the things I'm seeing are precursors to a truly international world in which everything everywhere is homogeneous.  

But then again, if the world is headed to homogeneity, it probably wouldn't have been so difficult to express to the McDonald's cashier that Fanta is undesirable.

What do you think?  Is there merit to my fears, or am I being paranoid?

The Burgundy Aesthetic

It's an odd feeling walking around a city where many of the buildings are older than you own country.  There's so much history in these streets, and everything that can be preserved and used is kept up by the community.  I'm finding that the attitude here is much more about repair and integration than it is about innovation and reinvention.  In the States, old buildings are constantly being torn down and replaced by newer, stronger, and more efficient ones.  Here, the old is kept and assimilated with the new, and this attitude characterizes the whole region.

Of course, it makes sense that the city would maintain large historical landmarks, but even the more quaint and unobtrusive structures are preserved if someone can find a use for them.  It's not uncommon to be walking down the street and see large, modern, aluminum alloy shopping complexes next to old shops with wooden foundations and stone masonry long since turned brackish by run-off and acid rain.  The area around the college campus is rather modern looking, but going into the city center is like stepping into another time.  The roads are entirely cobblestone and vendors sell jewelry, food, and old books with fraying leather spines on the street.  The roads were clearly designed for walking.  They dip and wind in unpredictable, irrational directions, and frequently I see drivers have to stop and turn around when a road abruptly becomes accessible only to pedestrians.


This contrast is even more apparent in Beune, a small city about five miles outside of Dijon which I visited on Tuesday of this week..  The largest main historical landmark in Beune is L’Hôtel Dieu (God’s hospital).  Constructed by Nicolas Rolin, a priest and chancellor to Phillip the Good in 1443, the hospital was built as a refuge for impoverished sick people.  The building has a distinct aesthetic in and of itself.  The main room's ceiling is built to look like the bilge of a boat, and the wood is carved to resemble the faces of men and animals, each of which represents some sort of trait or character flaw.  Every face is unique, and the animal carved next to it correlates with that person's sin.  A pig, for example, represents lust.  Inspired by Noah's arc, the ceiling was meant to bring joy to the sick people, many of whom would die in their beds, with some form of entertainment and hope of renewal.

The outside of God's Hospital.  The tiles on the roof all have symbolic significance.  The red symbolizes wine, which is Beune's main crop.  The brown symbolizes the earth, and the green symbolizes nature.  The yellow is a color associated with Burgundy itself.

The ceiling in the main room.

The chapel at the end of the hall stands underneath an immense strained glass window.  In addition, the walls are  painted red and inscribed with the word "seule" (alone) in golden letters.  Diagonal to the word is an image of bird on a branch, which our guide told us represents death.  Next to it is a symbol that I didn't recognize, and star sits beneath the branch on which the bird is perched.  The star represents the good or the divine, and the strange symbol stands for love and faith.  In other words, the wall can be loosely interperated as In the presence of death, love and faith alone are good.

Adjacent to the main room is the salle de St. Hugues which was built in 1645.  Commisioned by Hugues Betault, a wealthy bishop, the room catered to the rich who had fallen ill.  The walls are covered in dynamic and colorful murals depicting stories and themes from the Bible.  Compared to the main room where the poor people went, this much smaller, flashier room devoted to people who could already afford private healthcare spits in the face of the Hospital’s original goal.  In this way the hospital embodies the contrary nature that often characterizes the Catholic Church.  One room is devoted to charity, kindness, and helping the community.  The other room is a manifestation of opulence, exclusivity, and wasted resources. 

Murals in St. Hugues' room.

The final room I visited in the hospital housed the original version of Rogier van der Wayden's "The Last Judgement."  Different sections of the painting are opened and closed depending on the time in the church calendar.  It shows the dead rising and being judged by St. Michael, whose face is disinterested and impartial.  The good go off to the left into the shining gates of heaven.  The evil go off to the right into fire.

The sword at Jesus' left hand symbolizes justice.  Notice Saint Michael's detached gaze.  The sinners who are going off to hell on the right are depicted eating their own hands, showing the self destructive nature of sin, and pulling others into the pit to share in eternal anguish.

The people who live in Burgundy accept their buildings, art, and attitude as a way of life.  The same could be said for Americans as well.  I make no value judgments on either attitude; I'm well aware that they both have their shortcomings and their merits.  Instead, I wish to express how the attitude of a people can seep even into the buildings in which they live.

Opening Remarks

Truly, I've found many of the travel blogs I've read quite annoying, uninteresting and even loathsome.  There are few things more grating than someone spouting off their experiences in banal diatribes about the places they went and the things they saw without any real effort to describe their experiences or offer any more insight than I went there and did this.

Now, I'm sure that some of you who have taken the time to read this are thinking, well, he certainly wasted no time in being an ass.  Please know that it is not my goal to come off as uppity, belligerent, or pretentious--though I realize that it happens on occasion.  I simply wish to write something that will be interesting, something that will do a good job of showing what my experience is truly like and what it shows about myself or the world around me.  I'm operating under the assumption that this will be much more interesting than a simple recounting of events.

What you won't see in this blog is updates on where I am or what my plans are.  Once I figure out how this blog is laid out, I might be able to provide a separate page where I can include basic information like that.  For now, I will say that I am studying French abroad at the University of Burgundy in Dijon, France.

What you will see in this blog is my views and outlook on the events.  I will only reference to places I've gone and things I've done insofar as they help people understand what I'm talking about.  I realize that this may require quite a bit of story telling, but I want this be much more meditative in tone than narrative.  Expect a post once a week, maybe twice a week if something really important happens.

If you have questions, feel free to email me or contact me on facebook, and please please please leave comments.  I want to see what everyone thinks, and I will do my best to get back to you.  Be honest--though,  keep in mind, I will ignore asinine or short-sight comments-- as I want you to be engaged as much as I am.

Though its Monday of this week, look for the next post this coming Friday or Saturday.  Move swift like the wind; shed sight like the dawn.