Welcome to the 21st Century

Man's Best Friend, and Woman's Too

The French are proud of their language as it can be used for quite a turn of phrase.  Double entendres were basically invented in the French language.  Along with that are the cultural differences.  Allow me to explain why this topic came up.  Slight pun, as you'll see below.  The French teach sex education as a national Public Health priority.  Here's how the differences play out.

A little while back I wrote about billboards.  Well, here's a new one.  Or two.  About three blocks away from the apartment on a busy street.  The headlines read "Man's Best Friend", and "Woman's Best Friend".  The leash is a cute touch. 

Square Pillows

The French, Swiss, and Germans use square pillows on their beds.  The Brits and Americans use rectangular pillows.  It's a small, but really noticeable thing.  Sometimes it disturbs your sleep, as it is slightly uncomfortable or foreign. Makes sense, as we are in a foreign country.

One of the big British retailers just announced a Eurppean online store for delivering British goods to the continent.  In their advertising they mention three things: shipping longer, slimmer British Men's trousers to Spain where the trousers are made for men who are shorter and more stout (Gee, I ought to buy my pants in Spain...), shipping regular underwear for women to France where only thong underwear is commonly available, and delivering rectangular pillows.  Apparently these are all big problems for the British expat community in Europe.

And speaking of that; there are Brit expats everywhere.  Everywhere you go in Europe, Asia, and the Americas there are British expats there.  And typically a community of them, as they tend to cluster.  I find that really interesting.  There are tons here in Paris.  They might be here for the weather.  The weather is way better in France than England, even though the two countries are next door neighbors.  Must have something to do with the North Sea and the Gulf Stream bumping up against each other around England.  Dunno. 

And by the way, how the hell did an island nation the size of New Jersey end up ruling the world for a couple hundred years?  They really are an amazing people.  Much to admire in the Brits. 

Some Different, Some Same

We hopped on a bus to meet a local pal and there was a mother with a two year old.  Some things never change, no matter where you are.  This kid's tearful singsong lament of non, non, non, non, non... (no, no, no, no, no...) could have been any two year old in any country, on any bus in the world.  We were cracking up.

The French people on board the bus however, made no faces, and cracked no smiles.  That still takes some getting used to, that they only smile and laugh with friends.  Poor gal.  She did make it off after a while with the stroller/pram and the kid, both separate.  The kid was being "helped off" by one arm.

Later in the day we were at a neighborhood Italian restaurant we've been dying to try for ages.  Man, we should have been there months ago.  Homemade pasta.  They make it when you order the dish.  We watched.  The roller machine is half-in/half-out of the tiny kitchen.  Fabulous.  And really reasonable.

We got there around 8:20PM.  A little late for us, but early by French standards.  When we arrived, a family with two little boys was already there.  They were just eating when we left at 9:45PM.  The one kid was old enough to listen to the conversation.  The little one, however, had his Slinky with him.  You will remember the Slinky is just a coil of aluminum.  He played with that Slinky toy the whole time.  We didn't even know they still made the Slinky.  Hell of a toy.

On the walk home, we passed some folks that were just entering an apartment building after being buzzed in.  They were carrying a dessert cake.  We think they were just arriving for dinner; at 9:50 PM.  That's right they were showing up for the evening, at 10 minutes to 10 at night.  The French eat dinner late. Really late.   

Bilboards in France

Billboards over here are very different.  The French have a different approach to women's bodies than Americans.  Paris Match, which is a top magazine here, like Life or Vogue, has Sharon Stone topless on the cover of this month's issue.  And not just that, there were billboards with the picture all over town when the magazine hit the newstands.  Can you imagine the stir in the States if a big star like her did a topless spread in an American magazine.  Mon dieu! 

Anyway, I bought the magazine for a pal in the States who is obsessed with Sharon Stone.  Well, okay maybe obsessed is too strong a word.  No, on second thought, that's accurate.  He's obsessed.  Next time I'm in the States I'll mail it to him.  Costs too darn much to mail stuff from here to the States. 

Back to the cultural differences.  When we showed up here in Paris there was a campaign with semi-erotic billboards all over town with naked women in discreet poses.  Beautiful photography.  The women weren't bad either.  And the pictures only had these words: Pain de Sucre.  Okay.  Pain is bread.  Sucre is sugar.  It means sugar loaf.  Or sugar bun.  I felt like that was an odd advertisement and promptly forgot about it.  Anyway, one day we're on a bus and I look over and there is a Women's Lingerie store: Pain de Sucre.  Lately we've noticed they are all over town.  Isn't that a funny name for a Lingerie chain? 

And by the way, we have never seen so many lingerie stores.  They are everywhere.  French women must buy (and presumably wear) an amazing amount of fine undergarments.  And shoes.  We have never seen a town with so many shoe stores - men's and women's.  Makes sense because everyone walks everywhere.  But these people seem slaves to shoe fashion. Men wear really pointy shoes here.  Men wear shoes whose toes are pointed like the toes of women's high heels.  Sure doesn't look very comfortable.  We were on the Metro and Susan drew my attention to this one guy whose shoes were so pointy that they curled up at the end, like the slippers the Genie wears in Alladdin.  We started giggling a little.  That wasn't nice, but they really were silly shoes.  

French Acronyms

Okay, this is sort of cute, but sort of goofy.  Nobody writes "please" anymore in France.  They write SVP (abbreviation for s'il vous plait - please in French).  Even the homeless people have signs that say SVP now.  It seems to have swept the nation. 

And nobody here sends you an email to take a meeting, or even a Rendez-vous.  They write or ask you to RDV someplace.  I think an RDV is much less charming than a Rendez-vous.  A Rendez-vous is romantic, mysterious, maybe a little dangerous.  What's an RDV? Just a meeting is all.  Well, I refuse to go along.  I will Rendez-vous with everyone, everywhere.  I did not submit to the Acronym in the US, and will not submit to the tyranny of the acronym here in France either. 

Although they really do have some great acronyms here.   The train company is the SNCF - Societe Nationale des Chemin de Fers de Francais.  It means the National Company of Iron Rails (Railroads) of France.  By the way Chemins de Fer is also the name for the original version of the card game Baccarat - because the shoe they dealt out of was an iron box.

Wait a minute, while we're on the subject of tyranny, we are getting pretty fed up with the tyranny of 6-week vacations.  And this is a rough week anyhow.  The bakery lady took another week off.  The bakery has now been closed for almost a month.  Now we have to walk almost a half a block for fresh bread instead of three doors.  In fact, we did that today.  And this is the really funny part: while leaving we said thanks and goodbye to everyone in the store; all the counter help, the cashier, etc.  On our way out the door we said Merci and Au Revoir three times.  To anyone who would listen, in fact.  And everyone said it back to us.  See, they aren't rude, they just have their own little rules. 

Our Flying Nun

We changed trains the other day in Strasbourg, in the Alsace area of France.  It is a Catholic religious center, and we have never seen so many Roman Catholic sisters anywhere else.  There were Nuns everywhere.  And Orthodox Jews.  Lots of hats.  Must be a pretty religious town overall.  There is a Cathedral there that is supposed to rival Notre Dame, but we only got out for some fresh air between trains. 

When we came in, this little Nun was greeting some of her Sisters who had just arrived and it looked like she was gathering them up.  When she saw me aiming the camera at her, she broke away and posed.  Is that sweet or what? Here she is, our Flying Nun. 

Our Flying Nun

More Basel

Of course we had Swiss chocolate.  Not a ton, as it is amazingly expensive.  We paid $20/pound for handmade chocolates in a high end store.  But man was it worth it.  The white chocolate sheet with the raspberries and blueberries in it was pretty spectacular.  Susan told me that was my favorite. And we paid with the most beautiful money in Europe - Swiss Francs. 

Swiss Francs

Basel has some pretty cool stuff including about 30 museums, including the first public art museum in Europe.  Susan went to the toy museum while I was explaining the US Constitution to my Swiss customers.  Then she did a sort of walking and Tram tour of the architecture and big public outdoor art.  They have a lot of art.  Susan also found the Rhine River, which cuts through town.  These folks in the picture below are drifting down the river.  The orange bags are not water wings - they zip their clothing and shoes into the bags, as the strong current may carry them quite a ways downriver before they can get out.

Swimmers

 

The last morning we just sat outdoors over coffee and enjoyed the calm.  What a nice city.    

Explaining America

First, you must know that everyone in Europe loves everything American.  Whatever they say, everyone speaks or tries to speak American English (the big French school chain for English is called Wall Street English), they watch American TV (CSI is huge here now - but they used to watch Baywatch and Starsky & Hutch), they all drink Coke and Pepsi, all their T-shirts have English expressions, all their music is American or is influenced by American music, and there are American chains on every corner: McDonald's, Starbucks, Burger King, Kentucky Fried, and Pizza Hut. 

And they have no idea what makes us tick.  Try explaining some of the stuff we do to educated Swiss professionals.

I spent a really uncomfortable hour at lunch the other day in Switzerland trying to explain why we all have a zillion guns but can't allow anyone to see Janet Jackson's nipple.  They are mystified by the 2nd Amendment.  However, I have a pretty good familiarity with the Bill of Rights and walked them through that one and our constitution.  Turns out the US Constitution was the document that had the most influence on the Swiss Constitution when they got theirs in 1848, so they were cool with that.  But they thought some of this stuff was "madness" in their terms.  They may be right.

How much does America influence Europe?  Its sort of insidious.  We were on a tram in Basel and there were two teenage girls dressed like hookers in front of us (see they even dress the same). They were playing a Pussycat Dolls song on their cell phone, and knew every word and even every hand movement that lead singer Nicole Sherzinger makes in the video.

This may be the real reason the Muslim countries hate us.  We export all this cultural stuff.  They don't give a rats-ass that we are free and etc.  They hate it that their kids dress like hookers and act like skanks and ho's.    

Basel

We just got back from Basel, Switzerland.  Had some business in town.  Basel is a remarkably clean and pleasant city that is just over the border from both France and Germany - more about that later.  It's sort of a funny town, being at the corner between two big relatives.  They mostly speak German, but also French.  And everyone we encountered also spoke English.  Basel has two train stations: one is actually in French territory, and the other is in Germany.  I bought a coffee at the German train station and kept falling out of German into French (habit), the guy was laughing and we both ended up speaking English.

Anyhow, when you arrive at either of the Basel train stations, you just walk out the door of the train station and you are in Switzerland.  Of course nobody bothers to check your passport or anything.  All the guidebooks say you have to go through Passport Control, but we saw a couple guys in uniform just handing around.  They could have been meter-readers for all we know.  You just get off the train and walk out of the station.  Bingo. And you are in the center of this totally clean Swiss town, just across the street from the central Tram depot. 

Basel's airport is in France.  Funny set-up and a very interesting population.  Susan thought it was the whole place was a little like the movie Pleasantville.  And really expensive. 

When you check in to your hotel, you are given a little card for free transit during your stay.  Basel has trams that go all over town, and connect to buses and trains.  We found them unbelievably easy to use and understand. Very clear where each one goes, and where to pick them up.  We took the tram over to the Marktplatz (duh, Marketplace), and there was some sort of battle of the bands in front of the Rathaus, or city hall, built in 1501 we think.  Hung around for about an hour and listened to some very nice classical stuff, some odd oompa-band stuff, and left when one of the classical bands played the Bond-theme Live and Let Die.  That was a little over the top. 

The Band at the Rathaus

I Love the Gare du Nord

Everyone should have a favorite train station.  Some people love the one in Washington DC, and some love Waterloo Station in London.  My favorite is the Gare du Nord in Paris.  Accessible from just anywhere in town in a couple jumps on the Metro.  And huge, covering at least a couple blocks, with three (four?) floors, stairs, escalators, and a maze-like lower floor (which may be the fourth) where bags can be stored and cars rented. 

There are three Metro lines that come right into the lower floors, and an RER (inter-urban) line too.  The Gare du Nord is home to Eurostar which goes out to London, Thalys (another TGV) that goes to Brussels and Amsterdam, and the various fast trains and local trains that go all over the place (mostly North - catch the name - Nord).

There are always crowds milling around the two huge boards listing the next trains.  And a couple decent coffee kiosks, of course.  And always a few guys walking around with automatic rifles.  They are pretty serious.  If you look closely, their shoulder patches say "Legion Etranger" - it's the French Foreign Legion.  And these guys specialize in deadly force. They compare to our Rangers. 

I feel pretty safe drinking coffee, waiting for a train, protected by the Foreign Legion. Cool.