Immersion Continued

Apologies, apologies, the interwebs were not cooperating, and I'm only just now publishing this post.  I wrote it three days ago, it's not my fault.

This week was rather uneventful, in fact, I've been struggling up to this point to find something to write about.  But after sitting around in my room for most of the equally uneventful weekend, I think I will bring about an update on my language skills.  Are you read to be blasted to an ashy cinder by the bright, shining truth that you thought you wanted?

Things are getting better.  Or at least, I'm less bothered by my insufficiency than I was at the beginning of the trip.  There are still the people who revert to English when I try to speak to them, there are still instances when I need to tell people to slow down, and there are still the unexpected telephone calls in the middle of the night from some French-speaking man who is repeatedly surprised that there are no women living in my room and who always says "Sweet dreams" after I say, "Please stop calling me," but that's a different topic entirely.

I'm finding that I can read a French document or go long passages in the French novel that I own without using a dictionary, and I can have brief conversations with people on the street if they try to speak to me.  I even made a French friend who came to eat dinner with some friends of mine and me.

From left to right: Nina Ni, Xiaoyan Le, Sika Minglu Zhu, myself, Anastasia Sarandi, Annabelle Marcouyoux

Still, familiar French is rather difficult to penetrate (heh).  It's like its own language in and of itself, and it makes  American idiom and slang look shallow by comparison.  Furthermore, I'm finding that it's not always so easy to gauge when its use is apporpriate.  I went to by some train tickets earlier this week, and the woman who helped me, despite being dressed in full, formal business attire and sitting behind a very well kept and organized desk, laced her speech with all sorts of familiar phrasing that I was rendered speechless.  

Luckily, though, my civilization class devotes a full hour of its weekly four hour duration to the use of familiar French.  We learned some common idiomatic phrases.  Some of the most interesting are listed below, first in the original French, followed by their literal English translation, followed by the idea they wish to express:

"Etre soupe au lait"--to be milk soup--to have an inconsistent mood

"Enculer les mouches"--to fuck the flies-- to have nothing to do

"Peigner la girafe"--to comb the giraffe-- to have nothing to do (less vulgar)

"Avoir un coeur d'arichaut"--to have an artichoke heart-- to be too sensible or cautious

"Une fleur bleue"--a blue flower--someone who is naive

"Tremper son biscuit"--to dip his/her cookie-- to make love

"Jeter le bebe avec l'eau du bain"-- to throw the baby out with the bath water-- to avoid an important topic or issue

"Vingt-deux"--twenty two-- here comes the boss

"Bon vent!"-- good wind-- Get lost!

"Avoir une araignee au plafond"-- to have a spider on the ceiling-- to be crazy, nutsy coo-coo

I learned others, but I think that's a good enough amount for now.  I think there some interesting parallels with English idiomatic phrases as well.  The last one, avoir une araignee au plafond, reminds me of the English phrase, "The lights are on, but nobody's home."  It has a similar image and conveys a similar meaning.  There are even some phrases that are exactly the same in both languages like "une pierre qui roule n'amasse pas mousse," or "a rolling stone gathers no moss."  

Fun facts aside, I still have a long way to go, but I feel like I'm making some progress for the first time since I've been here.

On the Euro Crisis

So much pain!

There has been a whole mess of talk about the Euro and its viability in the wake of several debt crises in the Eurozone.  In short, several countries who are part of the European Union, namely Greece and Italy, have suffered under the pressure to keep up with the currency.  Under the euro, nations like these have struggled to thrive under increasing debt, and as a result businesses and economies have suffered.  Italy just recently passed a set of austerity measures in hopes of maintaining economic stability in the future.  This is a brief description of the events surrounding the euro debate.  CNN has a more detailed summary of the crisis, which you can read here.

Firstly, let me point out that I really don't understand economics.  Once during my economics class last year, I approached the professor with a question about... capital or demand or GDP or something economicy like that.  He proceeded to explain the concept.  I didn't understand, so he tried explaining it another way that I also did not understand... and another way, and another way,... and yet another.  Finally, he put down his pencil and mumbled, "Well, you don't need to answer every question correctly on the test in order to pass."

What I do understand is cause and effect, and I'm pretty good at reading cultural and social phenomena, both of which are influenced by economics.  So, I will focus on shedding light on those things, as well as offering some thoughts into how people are debating them.

As I've mentioned before, the Europeans are good at debating, and even in the wake of some very real problems and threats, they manage to stay relatively calm.  I'm afraid I can't say this about the media in the United States.  Though, like I said, there are many potentially destructive consequences to this crisis, many American news emissions, like this one which is also from CNN, seem to revel in the unfortunate nature of the events.  I've read other American articles that could easily be headlined as "Watch Europe Burn!"   

But let us not dwell too long on the American entertainment--err, I mean news-- networks' portrayal of the situation.  The primary concern is that European Union will be fractured into what the French newspapers are calling a "Europe a deux vitesses" or "two-speed Europe."  This entails a couple of different outcomes.  It could mean that the struggling nations leave the European Union, or it could mean that they stay in the European Union but revert back to their prior currencies.  In either case, it would cause a divide in the Eurozone wherein the wealthier nations continue to be wealthy and build their economies with a more powerful currency while the others fall even farther behind.  Hence the "two-speed" distinction. 

I'm guessing that this probably won't happen.  Europe's leaders have tried so hard to maintain economic unity that to suddenly go back on it would make everything worse, as detailed in this article here (it's in French, but if you have Google Chrome then the browser with translate it for you).  I think that this is further evidenced with Italy's recent austerity bill; governments do not want the European Union to fail.  To further stave off more problems, some have even proposed bail outs from Germany and France, the two most wealthy Eurozone nations.

Yet, the most interesting reaction by far is the push for greater federalization of economic policies.  Some thinkers, like this guy (again, in French), think that this the perfect opportunity to further integrate European nations into one economic entity.  This would give more power to European Commission to dictate economic policy and reduce the power of individual nation states to act outside of the Union's economic interest.   The logic here is that in order for the Union to work, there needs to be more uniformity and enforcement of the Union's policies, as opposed to now wherein some member nations go well above the maximum debt amount and get away with it.  Several high ranking officials have already expressed support for this idea

I curious to see how this will play out.  With the desire to maintain unity, it's not unrealistic to think that European economic policy could become truly federalized, that there would in fact be one economy for the European Union.  From what I've read, this would be maintained by the European Central Bank, though I'm still hazy on the details of how that would work.

I imagine that I could offer more insight if I was knowledgeable in economics, and it's sometimes difficult to follow these events in France where everything is hunky dory, at least relatively.  As always, if you find something inaccurate or lacking in the post, please let me know.  I like being informed.

I enjoy learning about history, and I'll admit that I do have a habit of dwelling on the past.  Still, it's never been in my nature to be nostalgic.  I think that it's an interesting time to be alive because I believe the world is in the middle of transitioning from one state of affairs to another.  Like when national sovereignty replaced feudalism, the nation-state is giving way to a new socioeconomic and political entity.  Perhaps this will take the form of federalized nation groups, or perhaps it will be something else.  In any case, I suppose it's too early to speculate, but I'm glad to be part of the conversation. 

First Meditation (or, Pretentious Rant #1)

I hear that the fog comes every year.  The autumn swims in it.  It moves in during the morning, and if the sun is behind the clouds all day, it lingers until the early evening.  It's a heavy mist that you can see and touch, not the patchy, thin, easy to ignore fog that sulks about the fields of southern Ohio like little bands of disinterested ghosts.  No, this fog saturates everything.  If I go outside during the day, my shoes and feet are always wet by the time I go back inside.

I imagine what this is like in the more rural parts of Burgundy.  The city, with its noise and its lights, has a way of keeping me numb to the more natural aspects of the place around me.  I picture myself alone outside in a field.  There's no noise of cars honking or people yammering about trivial, everyday things.  There's me and the grass... and the fog.  It envelops everything, and when I walk forward, it seems to follow me, like I could go on forever and never see anything else.

Every year it's like this.  Grendel is referred to in Beowulf as "mist-walker."  The impulse to imagine something horrible and threatening in the fog is all too seductive.  I look out at it the same way I look into a pitch dark room.  I know better, but still the thought creeps in,  who knows what sorts of monstrosities nature's coughed up to haunt the veiled landscape?  No wonder people crowded themselves into towns and halls, if only not to have to be reminded of the mist.  

This is the edge of the northland, away from the arid summers of Greece, and the bright springs of Rome.  The boundary marked by the fog tells that this is beginning of where the hairy-faced barbarians of old roamed and lurked about.   Who could stand to live here?  What would those people be like?  

An outsider like myself thinks of these things, but someone who is from here would probably ask the same questions of any place that was strange to them.  Imagine living in this all your life, then being transported to Mexico or Brazil, the stifling heat, the sun so bright all the time it seems to drum on your brain.

Even the weather seems to plays into people's identity and perspective, and I wonder how it has shaped my own.

The Frustration of Immersion (and Lack Thereof)

I remember talking with one of my professors before I came to France.

He gave me this advice, "When you go to France, convince yourself that you are bad at French."
Well, I thought that wouldn't be too hard.  I had some vague idea that speaking a foreign language in a foreign country would be a little difficult.

He continued, "When you are speaking in France, be patient with yourself.  Don't worry about if you make mistakes, just make sure that people understand what you are saying."

Unfortunately for me, I underestimated just how easy it would be to convince myself that I was bad at French.  My first conversation, or rather attempted conversation, in French was with an SNCF, the nationalized French train service, worker at the airport.  I approached his desk and politely asked for a train ticket to Dijon in French.  He understood me just fine, but I wasn't prepared for was his response.  Rolling out of his mouth came a barrage of completely unintelligible French phrases.  So unintelligible, in fact, that I was stunned speechless.  Noticing this, he asked me in English the same question he was trying to convey in French, quite simply, "Have you ever traveled with SNCF before?"

Over a month into the program now, and I feel like this is still happening too often.  A French speaker will say something in French that I should recognize but can't, and I have to ask them to repeat what they said a second, third, or fourth time.  What's even more frustrating is the fact that they will often switch to English when they see that I'm having trouble.

As frustrating as immersion is, what's even more irksome is the difficulty I'm having in getting immersed.  Everyone speaks English, and this is the common language of most of the students in the International Residence, many of whom have never taken a French class before this semester.  Even those who have taken French classes before are often more comfortable speaking in English; some of them will even become annoyed when you try to speak French with them.

I'm not trying to give you a bad impression of the other students.  For every student that insists on speaking in English, there is one who will gladly speak French with you, yet I can't help but feel that I'd be making more progress if I was totally immersed all the time.  Of course, I imagine that if I was totally immersed, my experience here would be much more exhausting and lonely.

I'm continuing to seek out new opportunities to get immersed. I've joined two martial arts clubs here, both of which are conducted entirely in French.  I've started reading a novel in French, and I try to listen to French radio programs at night before I go to bed.  Even with these improvements though, the anglophone speakers are always around the corner, and I realize now that I was as unprepared for them as I was for the francophone speakers.

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?