My modest camera (I had to sell all the good equipment to buy food) has a simple video function, and I've used it twice in the past few days to create extremely short videos of scenes in Paris.
I've been trying to use the trial version of the Corel editing software that I downloaded. It seemed pretty useful, and since I always pay for my software, I tried to register the software and buy it at the special price that the software itself advertised to me each time I closed the program. But alas, Corel has fraudulently pulled a bait-and-switch on me. Instead of directing me to a page where I could buy the software at the advertised price, I was forced to another page with a price that was 160% higher than the advertised “special offer”! I e-mailed a complaint to Corel, but I don't ever expect to get an answer. If the company shafts people like that, it's certainly not going to admit to it in its support organization.
It's a pity, because the software (bought from Ulead—Corel is a specialist in buying, rebranding, and hiking up the price on stuff that someone else wrote) is rather nice, although it crashes when reading some QuickTime files.
Anyway, I did manage to make two videos, one of thirty seconds, and one of two minutes. That might not sound like much, but uploading a two-minute video to YouTube took me six hours, so the thought of uploading anything of significant length is rather scary. But the two videos are out there now, in high definition. Not much to look at, but making better videos would cost money, just like everything else in the world, and money's something I don't have.
One video, at the top of this post, is a very brief look at the Champs that I recorded on the way home. The other is a video of the infamous Rue Cler that I also took on the way home, and it's a staggering two minutes in length … practically a feature-length presentation!
Yes, I know that I'm not particularly gifted for video. It's just for documentary purposes, not art.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
More tooth-breaking bread
Out of desperation, I bought a couple of baguettes at the supermarket on the way home, along with some olive oil. My millions of faithful readers will recall my complaints about classic French baguette bread in the past. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anything better. I usually buy so-called parisienne loaves of bread, which are much fatter and softer than than baguettes and tend to stay that way, but baguettes were all that the supermarket had. I was hoping that at least the supermarket might have put some preservatives into the bread to keep it soft, but I think it just cooks up the bread fresh in much the same way that bakeries do.
I quickly brought the bread home and stuffed it into the freezer, even though I felt an ominous stiffening of the crust as I scampered home with four loaves. I ate half a loaf immediately (that's not much, when it comes to a baguette), and it was still moderately tooth-safe. The rest I put into the freezer.
Later on, I pulled the other half-loaf out of the freezer and heated it up. But the Hideous Transformation had already begun, and the crust was harder than a cylinder of carbon nanotubes. The precious ten-minute window of edibility for the bread had passed, the Jekyll-to-Hyde transition had occurred, and now it was back to breaking and chipping the crust into crumbs to try to get to something softer than tooth enamel on the inside. Heating it up and soaking it in olive oil didn't seem to help. I fear the other loaves are in the same condition. I'll just have to keep searching for some place that has parisiennes instead of baguettes.
I quickly brought the bread home and stuffed it into the freezer, even though I felt an ominous stiffening of the crust as I scampered home with four loaves. I ate half a loaf immediately (that's not much, when it comes to a baguette), and it was still moderately tooth-safe. The rest I put into the freezer.
Later on, I pulled the other half-loaf out of the freezer and heated it up. But the Hideous Transformation had already begun, and the crust was harder than a cylinder of carbon nanotubes. The precious ten-minute window of edibility for the bread had passed, the Jekyll-to-Hyde transition had occurred, and now it was back to breaking and chipping the crust into crumbs to try to get to something softer than tooth enamel on the inside. Heating it up and soaking it in olive oil didn't seem to help. I fear the other loaves are in the same condition. I'll just have to keep searching for some place that has parisiennes instead of baguettes.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Telephone troubles (sigh)
As if I didn't have enough crises to manage, I have trouble with my broadband connection again. I've noticed that the modem is dropping the connection every few minutes. I can hardly get anything done.
After a while, I realized that the modem was having serious trouble negotiating and synchronizing. Out of curiosity, I picked up the actual telephone (which I never use), and was surprised by a blast of white noise that was so loud that it drowned out the dial tone. Wow! No wonder the modem can't sync. This continued for a day or so. Then the noise was replaced by a sound like a machine gun that also drowned just about everything out. Then, the line was cut off entirely for a while, and when it came back, the noise on the telephone was gone, and the modem was holding sync … but the modem was now stuck at 2.4 Mbps, instead of the 8 Mbps I'm paying for. Clearly, noise is still affecting the line, at least at the ADSL frequencies. I don't have a tool to tell me which channels are being used, but I suspect that about half of them are down.
So, while still sniffling from the cold I got on the Métro, I called France Télécom, finally. I'm a bit reluctant because it's always a nightmare to get any service. The first technician I reached said it wasn't his problem, because he worked only on the voice line (even though the ADSL line is the same twisted pair—no pun intended). So I called other numbers, being bounced from one number to another, with ten-minute waits on each number, and one simple hang-up. Finally I reached another technician, who said that I had a TLM—a “little robot” (petit robot) in her terms—that was testing my line until this coming Thursday. She said that someone would call me on Thursday to confirm the results and see if the line is fixed. Unfortunately, the only slot for the call that she could give me was between 3 PM and 4 PM, during which I'll be in class; but I really need to take this call.
In other news, I was trying to create video clips of my flight simulation, and someone recommended a “prosumer” video-editing product to me. I downloaded the trial version (which took 2 hours, thanks to my ADSL line problem and the incredibly huge size of the download). It works pretty well, although the learning curve is steep. The thing is, I don't have a video camera. I do have a small digital camera that can take brief video clips in high definition, so maybe I'll use that to experiment. The trial lasts for 30 days … which, for someone in my precarious position, is practically eternity. If I manage to create some interesting videos, maybe I'll post them here. Nobody reads this blog, anyway, so I don't risk boring anyone.
After a while, I realized that the modem was having serious trouble negotiating and synchronizing. Out of curiosity, I picked up the actual telephone (which I never use), and was surprised by a blast of white noise that was so loud that it drowned out the dial tone. Wow! No wonder the modem can't sync. This continued for a day or so. Then the noise was replaced by a sound like a machine gun that also drowned just about everything out. Then, the line was cut off entirely for a while, and when it came back, the noise on the telephone was gone, and the modem was holding sync … but the modem was now stuck at 2.4 Mbps, instead of the 8 Mbps I'm paying for. Clearly, noise is still affecting the line, at least at the ADSL frequencies. I don't have a tool to tell me which channels are being used, but I suspect that about half of them are down.
So, while still sniffling from the cold I got on the Métro, I called France Télécom, finally. I'm a bit reluctant because it's always a nightmare to get any service. The first technician I reached said it wasn't his problem, because he worked only on the voice line (even though the ADSL line is the same twisted pair—no pun intended). So I called other numbers, being bounced from one number to another, with ten-minute waits on each number, and one simple hang-up. Finally I reached another technician, who said that I had a TLM—a “little robot” (petit robot) in her terms—that was testing my line until this coming Thursday. She said that someone would call me on Thursday to confirm the results and see if the line is fixed. Unfortunately, the only slot for the call that she could give me was between 3 PM and 4 PM, during which I'll be in class; but I really need to take this call.
In other news, I was trying to create video clips of my flight simulation, and someone recommended a “prosumer” video-editing product to me. I downloaded the trial version (which took 2 hours, thanks to my ADSL line problem and the incredibly huge size of the download). It works pretty well, although the learning curve is steep. The thing is, I don't have a video camera. I do have a small digital camera that can take brief video clips in high definition, so maybe I'll use that to experiment. The trial lasts for 30 days … which, for someone in my precarious position, is practically eternity. If I manage to create some interesting videos, maybe I'll post them here. Nobody reads this blog, anyway, so I don't risk boring anyone.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Promenade in Belleville
Continuing my attempts to reduce stress and get exercise, I went to the Place Clichy a few days ago, and from there I walked all the way to Nation, via Belleville. I hadn't been to this latter neighborhood in years. It was quite lively … but then again, on most days, just about every part of Paris is lively, since it's a town where people walk everywhere.
At the Bassin de la Villette (again), I stopped at McDonald's to get some hamburgers—the plain hamburgers are very cheap and nutritionally balanced, despite what some people believe (mainly people who never actually check the nutritional information). There was a homeless guy outside the entrance asking for money, so I gave him several euro. He seemed very happy about that—I suppose most people, when they give anything at all, probably give “red coins” or “yellow coins” (the lowest denomination of euro coins are red, and the next lowest are yellow, with the 50-cent piece being the most valuable). It was enough money to buy a couple of hamburgers, just as I was doing. There, but for the grace of God … well, I hope God's grace will stretch far enough to keep a roof over my head.
From there I followed Métro Line 2 through Belleville. It was a long and (I hope) healthy walk. Lots of places I hadn't seen in ages, and tons of people. There are many immigrants in this part of town, mostly Arab, some non-Arab Africans, and a surprising number of immigrants from the Far East, although I'm not sure which countries are the most represented. I thought Chinatown, near the Place d'Italie, was the meeting point for Oriental immigrants, but I guess there's more than one Chinatown now. I didn't see any McDonald's signs in Chinese, though, whereas I know there's at least one Chinese McDonald's in the “other” Chinatown.
This part of Paris is very much in contrast to the Sixteenth, where hoi polloi (or I guess I should say the haute bourgeoisie) of Paris walk around with rigid sigmoidoscopes firmly lodged within their colons. (Actually, they drive around in black SUVs, rather than walk, even though distances are measured in hundreds of metres.) People are much more casual and friendly around Belleville. In some areas, there are lots of Asian prostitutes, too. On this particular day, there were so many people walking that there were lines for the Sanisettes. The Sixteenth has almost no Sanisettes, of course, since that would nuire à la bienséance—I love that expression!
This was a fairly long walk—several miles, which is more than I've been able to do lately—and by the time I got to Nation, it was getting dark. I stopped at a pharmacy to get some lip balm and vitamins, and I noted that the establishment was not in conformance with laws concerning emergency exits. But I guess nobody cares about that. After I bought my drugs, I decided to take the Métro home. This was reckless on my part, because this single Métro ride infected me with a cold. There was some woman sniffling right across from me (there's always someone sniffling right across from me on the Métro), and she probably infected me, as I had not been near anyone else with clear symptoms of a URI. I guess I could have walked, but the walk would have been another 120-150 minutes, and I didn't really have time for that (plus it was getting chilly).
At the Bassin de la Villette (again), I stopped at McDonald's to get some hamburgers—the plain hamburgers are very cheap and nutritionally balanced, despite what some people believe (mainly people who never actually check the nutritional information). There was a homeless guy outside the entrance asking for money, so I gave him several euro. He seemed very happy about that—I suppose most people, when they give anything at all, probably give “red coins” or “yellow coins” (the lowest denomination of euro coins are red, and the next lowest are yellow, with the 50-cent piece being the most valuable). It was enough money to buy a couple of hamburgers, just as I was doing. There, but for the grace of God … well, I hope God's grace will stretch far enough to keep a roof over my head.
From there I followed Métro Line 2 through Belleville. It was a long and (I hope) healthy walk. Lots of places I hadn't seen in ages, and tons of people. There are many immigrants in this part of town, mostly Arab, some non-Arab Africans, and a surprising number of immigrants from the Far East, although I'm not sure which countries are the most represented. I thought Chinatown, near the Place d'Italie, was the meeting point for Oriental immigrants, but I guess there's more than one Chinatown now. I didn't see any McDonald's signs in Chinese, though, whereas I know there's at least one Chinese McDonald's in the “other” Chinatown.
This part of Paris is very much in contrast to the Sixteenth, where hoi polloi (or I guess I should say the haute bourgeoisie) of Paris walk around with rigid sigmoidoscopes firmly lodged within their colons. (Actually, they drive around in black SUVs, rather than walk, even though distances are measured in hundreds of metres.) People are much more casual and friendly around Belleville. In some areas, there are lots of Asian prostitutes, too. On this particular day, there were so many people walking that there were lines for the Sanisettes. The Sixteenth has almost no Sanisettes, of course, since that would nuire à la bienséance—I love that expression!
This was a fairly long walk—several miles, which is more than I've been able to do lately—and by the time I got to Nation, it was getting dark. I stopped at a pharmacy to get some lip balm and vitamins, and I noted that the establishment was not in conformance with laws concerning emergency exits. But I guess nobody cares about that. After I bought my drugs, I decided to take the Métro home. This was reckless on my part, because this single Métro ride infected me with a cold. There was some woman sniffling right across from me (there's always someone sniffling right across from me on the Métro), and she probably infected me, as I had not been near anyone else with clear symptoms of a URI. I guess I could have walked, but the walk would have been another 120-150 minutes, and I didn't really have time for that (plus it was getting chilly).
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Stroll through the past
I've tried to go for a walk or two, in part for health reasons (my health is deteriorating in various ways and walking might help), and in part to try to reduce stress. I don't think the walking is working, but I tried it anyway. I decided to walk somewhere I hadn't been in ages, namely, up north of the Bastille.I walked up the St. Martin barge canal from the little on the south side of the Place de la Bastille that connects it to the Seine River. There are a lot of tiny pleasure boats in the harbor, and there's a nice park on the east side of this artificial lake, with a restaurant (although I can't afford to eat out these days). The canal itself actually proceeds north from the harbor underground, and then eventually comes back out into the open air east of the Place de la République. The underground part is so-so to walk over—just park benches and stuff—but the canal is more photogenic when it comes back out into the open.
There's a system of locks on the canal to handle the very substantial difference in elevation between the north end, which ends at La Villette (home to a great science museum, by the way), and the Seine River. For some reason, watching barges go up and down in the locks fascinates me … I guess that proves that I'm a congenital engineer. There were no barges during my walk, though.
On the way up the canal I passed the Bataclan, a famous concert hall painted in all sorts of gaudy colors. It's one of those places you always hear about but never see, like Carnegie Hall. It has had its ups and downs over the years, but I guess it's doing okay these days. It is famous enough to have become a sort of rite of passage for certain categories of artists in entertainment, which helps.I ended up at the artificial, 19th-century lake called the Bassin de la Villette, with its period buildings, its restaurants and cinemas, and its excursion boats. The boats can take you for a ride up and down the canal, and I've heard this is interesting, although I haven't tried it myself. After dark, the area fills up with drug dealers and their clients, or so I've read. By the time I finished, it was almost sunset, and I went back down towards the Gare du Nord train station, looking for groceries. There are many Indian groceries to the northeast of the station, and there's one in particular that I like, so I went there to buy rice, curry, and malted milk.
Had I had more time, I could have continued up to La Villette, a big park in northern Paris. It has a very cool science museum, as I've said, plus an Omnimax theater, a “dynamic” theater (it moves with the film, in other words), a real submarine that you can visit, an exhibition hall and a concert hall (the well-known Zénith), a music museum, and soon a symphony hall, too (unfortunately designed by Jean Nouvel—my stomach is turning already!).
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A day in court
I took the entire day off to go to court for my eviction hearing, since I figured it would take a long time … and it did. The docket was chock full today, and although my hearing was nominally scheduled for 2 PM, it didn't actually come up until nearly 6 PM, by the time the judges managed to wade through all the other cases before them (which additionally seemed to be more complicated than the usual stuff).
So I sat in the courtroom for four hours, with one bathroom break during the single recess, watching the other cases go by. Lawyers seem to enjoy talking a lot. They spend a lot of time telling the judges what the judges already know (and the judges pointed this out regularly, although it didn't seem to have much effect on the lawyers in front of them). This was the Tribunal d'Instance of the district in which I live, so they get all the eviction hearings and a lot of other related stuff like landlord-tenant disputes. I think they reserve one day a week for this type of work.
I met the lawyer representing my landlord. He seemed very nice (but then again lawyers often seem nice, until it's time to argue the case, eh?), and asked if I was still paying the rent. I told him that I had never stopped, I was just behind. Oddly enough, he disappeared during much of the afternoon and returned just before my case came up with someone who seemed like a lawyer in training, and she actually ended up arguing the case. As for me, I can't afford a lawyer, so I represented myself.
I had made lots of photocopies that unfortunately I didn't organize very well, but I got them organized enough to present to the court. I also prepared a two-page written statement of my situation for the judges to read. In my research for the hearing I had noticed that the amounts demanded by the building management company (which represents my landlord) seemed to exceed what I calculated that I actually owed. And I also have some question as to whether they even cash my checks, since I've lately begun to ask for receipts from the post office (where I get drafts to pay the rent), and I have only a small number of receipts for a large number of payments. I put all this in my written summary and explained it to the judges.
The Tribunal d'Instance has three judges. The head judge does essentially all the talking and questioning. She seemed very efficient, but by the end of the day she was clearly tired, thanks to the massive number of cases scheduled for the day and the great difficulty she had in getting lawyers to stop talking. "Summarize!" was a word I heard a lot, but it didn't seem to make the lawyers any less verbose.
I don't really know what's going to happen. At the hearing, I was told that a decision would be made by the court on March 1. I hope they decide in my favor, since I have no other options. Staying with my apartment and slowly paying the overdue rent is the only viable option, since moving anywhere else would require many thousands of euro for moving costs, deposits, etc. (I know, I've done it before). And since my apartment is rent-controlled and prices have skyrocketed in Paris, I wouldn't necessarily be able to get something cheaper even if I had the money to consider it. So there is no “Plan B,” I'm afraid.
So I sat in the courtroom for four hours, with one bathroom break during the single recess, watching the other cases go by. Lawyers seem to enjoy talking a lot. They spend a lot of time telling the judges what the judges already know (and the judges pointed this out regularly, although it didn't seem to have much effect on the lawyers in front of them). This was the Tribunal d'Instance of the district in which I live, so they get all the eviction hearings and a lot of other related stuff like landlord-tenant disputes. I think they reserve one day a week for this type of work.
I met the lawyer representing my landlord. He seemed very nice (but then again lawyers often seem nice, until it's time to argue the case, eh?), and asked if I was still paying the rent. I told him that I had never stopped, I was just behind. Oddly enough, he disappeared during much of the afternoon and returned just before my case came up with someone who seemed like a lawyer in training, and she actually ended up arguing the case. As for me, I can't afford a lawyer, so I represented myself.
I had made lots of photocopies that unfortunately I didn't organize very well, but I got them organized enough to present to the court. I also prepared a two-page written statement of my situation for the judges to read. In my research for the hearing I had noticed that the amounts demanded by the building management company (which represents my landlord) seemed to exceed what I calculated that I actually owed. And I also have some question as to whether they even cash my checks, since I've lately begun to ask for receipts from the post office (where I get drafts to pay the rent), and I have only a small number of receipts for a large number of payments. I put all this in my written summary and explained it to the judges.
The Tribunal d'Instance has three judges. The head judge does essentially all the talking and questioning. She seemed very efficient, but by the end of the day she was clearly tired, thanks to the massive number of cases scheduled for the day and the great difficulty she had in getting lawyers to stop talking. "Summarize!" was a word I heard a lot, but it didn't seem to make the lawyers any less verbose.
I don't really know what's going to happen. At the hearing, I was told that a decision would be made by the court on March 1. I hope they decide in my favor, since I have no other options. Staying with my apartment and slowly paying the overdue rent is the only viable option, since moving anywhere else would require many thousands of euro for moving costs, deposits, etc. (I know, I've done it before). And since my apartment is rent-controlled and prices have skyrocketed in Paris, I wouldn't necessarily be able to get something cheaper even if I had the money to consider it. So there is no “Plan B,” I'm afraid.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
A visit with the social worker
I had an appointment with a social worker today. The law requires that anyone being faced with eviction proceedings must be counseled by a social worker. She was very nice. She told me about rent assistance (aide au logement), for which I can apply to the Caisse des allocations familiales—the welfare board, in other words. So I shall gather all the papers necessary for that and apply. She talked about some other stuff, too, but I quickly became confused by all the various welfare plans available. I don't know if I'll qualify for any of them, but if she can find something to help, that would be great. She will also prepare a statement that she will give to the court for my hearing.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanksgiving (?)
Thanksgiving isn't celebrated in France, which seems to come to a surprise to most Americans. But that's the way “foreign” countries are, you know: everything is different!
My mailbox contained a sort of Thanksgiving souvenir, namely, a summons. My landlord wants to evict me for being late on the rent. The eviction hearing is set for January 25. Proof that France does not observe Thanksgiving, I guess.
My mailbox contained a sort of Thanksgiving souvenir, namely, a summons. My landlord wants to evict me for being late on the rent. The eviction hearing is set for January 25. Proof that France does not observe Thanksgiving, I guess.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Heat 'n Hu
A new all-time record for nighttime temperature in Paris was set a few days ago, with 15.4° C (59.7° F) recorded, beating the previous record set in 1924. The temperature itself wasn't uncomfortable, but it was accompanied by 80% relative humidity, which made the day miserable. I had to turn the air conditioning on to remove the humidity. The situation was complicated by the fact that the building heating system is now running at its usual fusing-platinum setting. Things haven't improved much: right now it's 15.5° C (7° above normal) with 76% humidity.
Anyway, with the weather report out of the way: The latest “excitement” has been the visit of Hu Jintao to Paris. Hu Jintao is the president of China, which I discovered after looking it up (I don't follow politics and about the only politicians I know are Barack Obama and Nicolas Sarkozy). France and Paris have gone overboard to give HJ the royal treatment. A large chunk of the city has been blocked off during his stay, and the Champs was blocked for a time while he rode by, accompanied by the Garde Républicaine, a part of the Gendarmerie that is mainly devoted to pomp and circumstance, with fancy horses, shiny helmets, etc. I'm so jaded by such events these days that I didn't even have the energy to take a picture—sorry.
The security was comparable to that accorded to the POTUS when he afflicts France with a visit, only with the added pomp of the horses and stuff. Granted, Forbes magazine considers HJ to be the most powerful person in the world, but I don't think he has nearly as many enemies as Obama, so the heavy security was puzzling. So was the royal/deity treatment. But then I discovered that HJ had come with €20 billion in his pocket for desperate French companies, and I understood.
I actually saw the man driving down the Champs, as I happened to be there when he passed. There was a modest gathering of people behind the barricades on the avenue. The procession was quite over-the-top, though, with multiple motorcycle escorts, the aforementioned horses and shiny helmets, and so on. I saw the world's most powerful person in the car, but I didn't know it was him until I got home and saw a picture of him (of course, I suspected it was the Chinese head of state, what with the Chinese flags up and down the avenue and all, but I had no idea what he looked like).
I'm not sure whether all the theater was intended to convince HJ that France could be just as oppressive as the PRC, or whether it was just to flatter him so that he'd sign those billion-euro checks more quickly. The €20 billion or so he's leaving behind will help many French companies to fatten their profit margins and accelerate their outsourcing of jobs to Romania. Still, it's only a drop in the bucket compared to the zillions of dollars and euro sent to China by Western countries in exchange for cheap goods and in pursuit of short-term gains.
(I remember when my mommy used to tell me to clean my plate because there were millions of children starving in China. Nowadays, what appears on the average American child's plate may have actually come from China, at dirt-cheap prices, and complete with a sprinkling of cadmium, melanine, lead, or some other extra ingredients.)
Anyway … in a way it's refreshing to see France kowtow to someone other than the POTUS.
In other news: The American store in my neighborhood got a new shipment of delicious Welch's grape soda, so I bought a can ($3.50) against my better judgment. My diet tends to be dictated by whatever has the lowest price at the grocery store (pound cake, potato chips, etc.), but sometimes I weaken and buy a special treat. Starbucks sells some delicious raspberry and white-chocolate cheesecake, but it's even more expensive ($6.20 a slice), so it's an even rarer treat. Ditto for ice cream ($9 a cup).
Anyway, with the weather report out of the way: The latest “excitement” has been the visit of Hu Jintao to Paris. Hu Jintao is the president of China, which I discovered after looking it up (I don't follow politics and about the only politicians I know are Barack Obama and Nicolas Sarkozy). France and Paris have gone overboard to give HJ the royal treatment. A large chunk of the city has been blocked off during his stay, and the Champs was blocked for a time while he rode by, accompanied by the Garde Républicaine, a part of the Gendarmerie that is mainly devoted to pomp and circumstance, with fancy horses, shiny helmets, etc. I'm so jaded by such events these days that I didn't even have the energy to take a picture—sorry.
The security was comparable to that accorded to the POTUS when he afflicts France with a visit, only with the added pomp of the horses and stuff. Granted, Forbes magazine considers HJ to be the most powerful person in the world, but I don't think he has nearly as many enemies as Obama, so the heavy security was puzzling. So was the royal/deity treatment. But then I discovered that HJ had come with €20 billion in his pocket for desperate French companies, and I understood.
I actually saw the man driving down the Champs, as I happened to be there when he passed. There was a modest gathering of people behind the barricades on the avenue. The procession was quite over-the-top, though, with multiple motorcycle escorts, the aforementioned horses and shiny helmets, and so on. I saw the world's most powerful person in the car, but I didn't know it was him until I got home and saw a picture of him (of course, I suspected it was the Chinese head of state, what with the Chinese flags up and down the avenue and all, but I had no idea what he looked like).
I'm not sure whether all the theater was intended to convince HJ that France could be just as oppressive as the PRC, or whether it was just to flatter him so that he'd sign those billion-euro checks more quickly. The €20 billion or so he's leaving behind will help many French companies to fatten their profit margins and accelerate their outsourcing of jobs to Romania. Still, it's only a drop in the bucket compared to the zillions of dollars and euro sent to China by Western countries in exchange for cheap goods and in pursuit of short-term gains.
(I remember when my mommy used to tell me to clean my plate because there were millions of children starving in China. Nowadays, what appears on the average American child's plate may have actually come from China, at dirt-cheap prices, and complete with a sprinkling of cadmium, melanine, lead, or some other extra ingredients.)
Anyway … in a way it's refreshing to see France kowtow to someone other than the POTUS.
In other news: The American store in my neighborhood got a new shipment of delicious Welch's grape soda, so I bought a can ($3.50) against my better judgment. My diet tends to be dictated by whatever has the lowest price at the grocery store (pound cake, potato chips, etc.), but sometimes I weaken and buy a special treat. Starbucks sells some delicious raspberry and white-chocolate cheesecake, but it's even more expensive ($6.20 a slice), so it's an even rarer treat. Ditto for ice cream ($9 a cup).
Monday, November 1, 2010
Boo! (hoo?)
Well, Halloween has come and gone, and France seems to have ignored it. No surprise there. The store down the street, which normally sells pillowcases, towels, and other items that make it nearly impossible to turn a profit, still stocks up on Halloween stuff each year, and there was a lot of stuff in the window when I passed it a few days ago. I don't know if they're making as much money with the scary stuff as they used to. I was out to buy some food briefly on Halloween itself and I didn't see anyone dressed for it.Today is All Saints Day (Toussaint, in French), and it's actually a public holiday. Technically, it's a two-day Catholic holiday (the next day is All Souls Day), but nobody cares about the second day. And they only care about the first day because it's a day off from work for many businesses. And it's the justification for a two-week school holiday, which is even more important. In theory, at least, the French visit their dead relatives in cemeteries on November 1, but I don't know how common that actually is (I don't visit people in cemeteries, as a general rule, be they relatives or not). I've had two aunts and two uncles die in the past year, but wherever they are, I'm sure it's not in a cemetery, and I doubt that they sit around waiting for visits from me … life (or afterlife) goes on, after all.
Vacation has stopped all the strikes. The French love to strike, but they love to go on vacation even more. So when a vacation period rolls around, they lose enthusiasm for striking. It's one thing to use a strike as an excuse for skipping work or school, but it's quite another to be expected to give up vacation time for a strike. So the strikes have fizzled. It helps that the French legislature finally passed the bill that increases the retirement age from 60 to 62, so it's pretty much a done deal now.
I like this time of year. The weather is extremely nice. These days I can't afford to go out and enjoy it, but it's still nice to know that it's there. Paris has actual seasons, whereas the region where I was born, in the Great American Southwest, does not (actually, winter was hot, and summer was hotter, but that hardly qualifies in my book). I'm 15 degrees further north here than in the town of my birth, so the seasons and the daytime periods are more variable. It provides variety—just when you get tired of a given time of year, you enter a new season.
Weather at this time of year does remind me of the Valley of the Sun in one way, though. When I was tiny, we used to go to the state fair every year at this time, and the city being within a desert, it actually got a little bit chilly at night in late October, which I loved. (Today, MegaPhoenix is so large that it never cools off, even at night.) Of course, the sights and sounds of the fair probably were part of it: corn dogs, Indian fry bread, turkey sandwiches cooked over mesquite with BBQ sauce, etc. All the junk food that the French don't eat.
Paris doesn't have state fairs, but it has many other attractions that compensate. At this time of year, the sun is already setting a lot sooner, and there's a very nice time around dusk during which it's getting quite dark, except for the deep blue twilight glow in the sky, and yet all the stores and shops are open. So you have this nice cozy light on the street, and the deep blue in the sky, and a chill in the air, and tons and tons of people on the streets, and it's very nice.
Poverty prevents me from going for the very long walks in Paris that I used to enjoy, but I did manage to walk for a while after buying some stuff at the Indian grocery I prefer, near the Gare du Nord. It's practically on the opposite side of town from where I live, and Métro tickets are outside my budget, so it's a long walk. But it's nice when the weather is nice.
Nobody ever walks on the street where I was born—it's too hot, and everything is miles apart, so you always drive around in a car. In Paris, everything is within walking distance, if you have some extra time, and if you don't, there's great public transportation. Everything is busy and bright and attractive, and you can walk for hours in the evening just watching the “flow of humanity,” so to speak (I hate corny expressions like that, but I can't think of anything better right now).For example, coming home from the Indian grocery, I passed through some extremely busy areas east of the Opéra Garnier. For example, walking west on the boulevard de Bonne Nouvelle and then along the boulevard des Capucines, it's practically non-stop restaurants, and all of them are busy. There are lots of cinemas as well, and shops. In the evening, at dusk, there are just amazing numbers of people in these areas. Parisians have small apartments and prefer to go out to entertain, so when the weather is nice, they are out in force, and the weather when I came home from getting groceries was superb.
Anyway … all the Christmas lights are now installed on the Champs. I saw crews putting them up on the avenue Montaigne on Friday, too. I'm not sure when they are officially turned on. I wonder if they'll try to find another celebrity who might be recognized by Americans to participate in the ceremony, as they did last year (I think it was Marion Cotillard then). They don't realize that Americans just don't care.