Liberal or liberal?

Having a political conversation is just so different here for a number of reasons. For one, not even the anti-communists care about the insidious "redistribution of wealth" that provides everyone with healthcare and education. So it obviously isn't that aspect of communism that is problematic. Getting rid of these programs, even talking about it is plainly a non-starter. Here it seems that you can, in an intellectually honest way, be anti-communist and pro welfare state. It is completely unproblematic.

Further, even among the pro-business, free market group here, no legitimate candidate thinks about getting rid of free health care or education. I guess that's not entirely true as people are going to start paying tuition in France pretty soon, but I think only for the Grandes Ecoles. So, again, you can be an intellectually honest free marketer and support state paid health care.

Interestingly, at least to my ignorance plagued self, the term for the group who supports free market (sort of) principles is liberal. Liberal! It's just so counterintuitive, I can't wrap my mind around it. Even stranger for me as concerns my political identity in America, I am pretty sure I would be on the right here.

In fact, as I understand it and admittedly I am still learning, the version of the free market that the EU proposes is right up my alley. The people have a safety net, there are strong unions, banks have regulations (theoretically), healthcare is (almost) free as is education. There is an obvious price to pay in terms of taxes but, it is at least fairly clear what you get in exchange. If you add to that a genuine enforcement of anti-trust laws and a genuine concern for consumer protection while allowing for businness to flourish... Oh, wait,I guess this last part hasn't been all that successful, although France is ranked 16th in business climate ratings. By comparison, the U.S. is ranked #1.

All of this, of course, makes the suggestions that Obama is socialist or communist because he wants more people to pay taxes than paid under Bush just plain crazy. In fact, all of the assembled Europeans agreed that Obama would be the most liberal candidate that their country could produce.

On a related note, a news program here interviewed a bunch of French people in the street about whether they supported Obama. It was a landslide for him. Then they asked whether a black candidate could win in France. Again, they all said of course, no problem. One little problem, however, at least according to the in-studio guy: the way the selection of candidates works here makes it nearly impossible for a minority to be selected for a national post. Now, I don't know anything about this. The guy went on to say that an Obama candidacy is only possible in America due to changes in the primary process, allowing for greater participation. I knew nothing about that but it sort of makes sense.

Manifestations

I went to lunch with David, Zsuzsanna, and Christin on Friday at the CROUS at Port Royal where we had an amazing lunch for under 3 euros. It was actually more than I could eat but I fought my through it.

In any case, David and Zsuzsanna are from Hungary, a country I know pretty much nothing about. As a result of that and the upcoming election, we have gotten into some interesting conversations. David and Zsuzsanna are both for McCain in the American election. When I asked them why they basically said that it was because Republicans are generally more anti-communist and since Hungary had a revolution to get rid of communists, they were for him. There is more to it than that but, overall, that is the basic idea.

Ok, interesting I thought. I guess that's true but my impression is that there are no American politicians who are even mildly procommunist, and most, when asked are virulently anti-communist. In any case, that is their impression and I will just take it at face value.

As we talked further, I learned about the revolution (Friday was the anniversary of the revolution, btw) and how they were still worried about Hungary's current government's commitment to democracy.

When we left the restaurant, there was a manifestation(just means a political demonstration)going on out front. Now, there's basically one of these going on every week here so that is no big deal. This one actually turned out to be a demonstration for judges in France and supported by some other functionaries.Pretty sure you would never see that in America.

Anyway, at one point there was some smoke coming from the demonstration and Zsuzsanna reacted with a little bit of fear when she saw it. To me, it was nothing to be alarmed about. David and Zsuzsanna then told me about how they were part of a crowd that was attacked by the govt with tear gas two years ago on this same day. They said that there were some world leaders in town and that the government wanted things to go well on the anniversary of the revolution so they suppressed the demonstration.

Ok, all of this sounds familiar and not too out of line. But then they revealed that the current government was Socialist. That's right, the one who gassed them and against whom they were protesting because of its lack of commitment to Democracy is socialist. Now, at least to my American-centric point of view, this just throws me off. For America, it would be some group that is closer to socialists, but still not actually socialist, taking to the streets and the major party government, Democratic or Republican, would be gassing them. There is no such thing as a serious, legitimate american Socialist political party. It just doesn't exist. More on this later.

Admittedly ignorant about politics outside of America, I asked some more questions. It turns out David is really concerned about the invasion of privacy that occurred in America after September 11th. He knows about FISA and the debate and wonders how Americans could have allowed that to happen.

Further, no one can understand why you have to be registered to vote a month before the election in order to vote...in a Democracy...in maybe THE Democracy.
It turns out that everyone is automatically registered to vote in Hungary and you just show up on the day and vote. In France, pretty much the same thing after you reach 18 years old. Of course there are safeguards against fraud but the idea is to encourage people to vote, not discourage them. They had revolutions and such to get that right. Oh wait, so did we.

Anyway, he was shocked when I told him about all the legislation and legal action ostensibly aimed at "protecting democracy" by making it harder for people to vote. He was even less happy about the fact that this type of stuff is more often pursued by republicans than democrats, at least in recent historical times.

I left out for the moment how everyone was happy to suppress the minority vote in America up until...uh...uh, 2008???? I know the FBI has ACORN covered but where's the DOJ Civil Rights division when you need them? Eversole?

During this conversation it dawned on me that David and Zsuzsanna, in spite of their love of John McCain and Republicans, wouldn't even be hard core Democrats, they would be at the most left of the left wing of that party. It just happens that their love of democracy is positioned against Communism and Republicans employ more routinely a rhetoric that is more openly supportive of anti-communist principles. So, they support Republicans. But if what is problematic about communism is invasion of privacy and subversion of liberties, you are probably not really for either major political party in America as they all, with a few exceptions, abdicated their responsibility after September 11th.

This brings me to my next related post.

Lunch time at Dauphine

Here's what lunch break looks like at the student cafeteria here---it's crazy crowded!

Basically, the entire university has a break from 12:00 to 1:45 and almost everyone descends to the student restaurant area for lunch. There isn't much outside of the school as an alternative but there are several options in the student restaurant. We get sandwiches, salads, etc for much cheaper than at a restaurant but then there is the line.

Here is a different line. There are a lot of them here. Wonder what this one is for?
Cool, you can buy a ticket at this location for a meal at yet another location and if you buy the ticket you pay less. You can buy 1-4 tickets for lunch with a valid student id card.
So, of course there is a long line for this because the reduced cost ticket saves you about a buck or two.

Predictably, however, the kiosk is only open between 11:20 and 2:15 daily. And, as mentioned above, you can only buy four tickets at a time. That's good thinking!

< But you know what, none of this matters because I make my own lunch. All I need is a microwave.


Holy crap! Look at all these people waiting for the microwave. WTF?


As it turns out, this is the only microwave in the whole place. Oh well, cold pasta is ok, isn't it?

16 years ago...

Last Friday, I went to visit Paule Schneersohn, the woman who ran the study abroad program I did during my junior year in college. It was kind of strange coming back here after so long but it was comforting as well. I remembered la rue de chevreuse and Reid Hall and couldn't wait to see them and Paule again.




I had a great time when I was in Paris before. It was the first time I voted and the only time I cast a winning vote for a presidential candidate. I lived with a host family and rented an apartment. I lived in the 6th arrondissement which was very upscale and in the 11th which wasn't then but seems to be more so now.

In any case, I remember it fondly. What I didn't know then and do know now is that it is really hard to find a place to live, enroll in courses and generally get around in France. And 16 years ago my French was so bad that when Paule met me at the airport and asked me "Comment est votre francais?" I didn't even come close to understanding it. Using every bit of my French skills, I said "repetez, s'il vous plait" which she did several times. I dipped deep into my reservoir for phrases as sophisticated as "Je ne comprends pas, Madame" and "Comment?" but still I didn't get. Finally, without a hint of exasperation she asked the question in English "How is your French?". After an awkward pause, I responded "I guess you know the answer to that question."

Now, even with vastly improved but still not great French, I still have all kinds of problems and find everything just slightly more difficult here. I wish I could have appreciated all that she did for me when she was doing it. I am sure that I will appreciate something about this trip later in life that I don't appreciate now.

Paule is doing well. She seems to be the same warm and generous person I remember. Her kids, Antoine and Noemie, who I babysat 16 years ago, have grown up. Antoine is married and has a baby of his own. Antoine was great and helped me out with his sister, Noemie. Like many 8 year olds, Noemie gave me all kinds of trouble. But she was also sweet and patient with my bad French and more importantly, introduced me to "La Vache qui rit"(laughing cow cheese), which I thought was French and was astonished to see in my local Edwardsvillian grocery store when I returned to America.

Some things just seem funnier here.

I hope no explanation is needed.

le rugby ou le matrix

Paris is a big crowded city with narrow sidewalks and a lot of foot traffic. So, when walking around the city, I try to make my way without unnecessarily running into or over anyone. I have come to find, however, that the same courtesy is typically not being offered to me.

After about a month and a half of this, I was getting pretty tired of it so I did a little experiment where I just walked straight ahead to see if anyone would get out of my way. The results of my unscientific experiment were mixed. Some people moved, but only at the very last moment. Most, either stubbornly stood their ground or were simply indifferent to my presence, at least until the moment of collision.



That, too, was interesting because the results were mixed as well. A lot of people simply kept right on walking without saying a word. Many, however, felt the need to stop me or say something in passing. This just adds to the hostility and aggression I feel here so I decided to go back to avoiding people but sometimes I just want to...

Last week, after being bumped into several times by people who didn't even acknowledge my existence, I asked my friend Flora about this phenomenon as we negotiated foot traffic in the metro and then at Les Halles (a big shopping center).

She said she agreed with me and that French people (she is French btw but from Grenoble) and especially Parisians seem to be concerned mostly with what is going on with them. They are kind of stuck in their own worlds and not really too concerned with getting out of someone's way. She said that there were two choices that you could make when encountering the hordes here in Paris: "Thomas, soit tu fais le rugby, soit tu fais le matrix." At first I didn't understand but I am sure you she where she is going: run into them or get out of the way like Keanu Reaves dodging a bullet. She added that the choice usually depends on how you are feeling that particular day.






I've been watching attentively this last week and it seems that most people choose Keanu. The problem I was having is that I was trying to get out of the way too early. Having made my more too early but not knowing it, I was surprised that others were making no move and felt aggressed. Now I know that I wasn't even giving them the chance to make their move. It still isn't intuitive but I am learning.

La bibliotheque

Almost everyday here gives me another example of something I took for granted in the U.S., in St. Louis or at Saint Louis University School of Law. Whether it's free electricity at a coffee shop or easy access to high speed wireless, my once abstract sense that what we often call the basics are really extravagances has only been reinforced.

Take, for example, the library. I often complain that SLU's law library isn't open late enough or not at all on certain days. I mean, on Saturday I hardly get started until the afternoon and they have the nerve to close at 5:00. Geez, do they have lives they want to live or something?
Here, the library is only open until 8:00 nightly,on Saturday from 9:00 to 1:00, and not at all on Sunday.

I feel like a lot of this complaint stems from my hearsay knowledge of the glory that is the Washington University School of Law library. Legend has it that this mythical place is beautiful, safe, and OPEN 24 HOURS!!! Although I have never set foot in this pristine depository of legal wisdom, I still use it as a point of comparison for our library which cruelly closes at midnight daily, with the exception of Saturday.
Well, no more. Now that I have experienced what a library can be, I hope to remember what I have at SLU. First of all, there are two libraries in my building although I may only enter one of them. It seems that the determining factor is whether I am doing a Master's Pro or a Master's Recherche.

If I am only a Master's Pro, I cannot enter the research library and am damned to study at the undergraduate library. So, I go to the undergrad library where there are people talking pretty much constantly, albeit at low levels. At first I thought that this was just another example of how things are different here and that being quiet in the library didn't translate. However, there were signs saying silent in about 10 languages so I thought it was likely that people were supposed to be quiet.

I went to the librarian to ask what the protocol was for getting people to be quiet. Was I supposed to say something or were the employees of the library supposed to say something? I should note that these weren't student workers. These are career professionals, librarians, whose whole life is dedicated to this job. They told me that it would be better for me to say something to them.

Ok. So, I just left instead because I wasn't really sure how to politely say stfu in French and that was all I could think of at that moment. The next day, determined to use the one ostensibly quiet study space available to me, I returned to the library. Predictably, generations of not caring about silence in the library had not changed overnight and people began talking again.

I asked a friend how to ask them to quit talking and she responded "Tu peux parler moins fort, s'il vous plait?". I should have known then that the concept didn't exist because that question translates roughly as "Could you speak less loudly please?".

In any case, I tried it and it seemed to work. The students looked at me like I was crazy (some of this is because I dared to ask them to speak less loudly and some of it is because of my American accented French) but they indeed stopped talking...for a couple of minutes. Then, they started again. I asked them once more, and they stopped again.

The problem is that we are in these giant rooms where there can be anywhere from 2-60 or so people, maybe more. So even if I manage to get two students to agree to be quiet for a minute or two, there are always more arriving. In reality, the conversation of the two students is not problematic, but when 30 pairs of students begin "speaking quietly", all of a sudden there is really no way to study.

In the end, I just left. I have since found that there are always empty classrooms to study in so i just go there. Of course, the whole building closes at 10:00 so I leave almost every night when the janitor comes in to clean the room. I never thought I would say it but I really miss Omer Poos, and not just because of its funny name.

Blowing up some of my assumptions about France

Cartier on the Champs Elysees, the biggest, richest, most beautiful avenue in Paris: this makes sense to me.
MontBlanc on the Champs Elysees: ditto.
Vesuvio on the Champs Elysees: A beer costs 8 Euro and I am assuming that is a demi; alright everything is in keeping with what I expect.

A crowded McDonald's on the Champs Elysees? No, that doesn't seem right.

A value meal for 9 euro. OK, I guess it's a tie. Yes, there's a really busy McDonald's on the most chic street in Paris but it's still wildly expensive.
MotorHead in concert in Paris. Sold out! Never would have expected this.

This is what happens when...

Although I am slowly beginning to understand more clearly the approach to grad school here, there is still a lot for me to learn. First let me say something about my developing understanding of the system that should, hopefully, serve as kind of a follow up to my first post.

So, the no books thing. For those of you in law school, it would be like not having a casebook and never using any supplements for class. Instead, the professor either talks about the cases or gives you a photocopy of the case. Through reading the case, you are supposed to get the law. Ok, up to this point, it's sort of like school at home.

The difference I realized after talking to Marine(my French friend who studied at SLU last year and is now at Dauphine) is that almost everyone in law school at home uses the supplements to, well, supplement the case law. Everyone knows that they are going to use the supplement and therefore if a professor fails to fully explain something in class, it's no big deal. This assumes you are paying attention, of course. More on that later.

For Marine, and I imagine every person lacking familiarity with the American system, it was crazy that the professors weren't fully explaining things in class. Instead, they expected us to figure it out based on the casebook. They weren't going to really help us with the material. They assumed we had a certain knowledge(after having done the reading) and interrogated us on that.
Of course, the case law on its own usually isn't sufficient or efficient for most American law students. I know some who don't use the supplements and do extremely well without them but I would say that the vast majority of law students use a combination of casebook, classroom lectures, supplements and outlining to get the law and prepare for the exam.

Here, it is basically only the class lecture. Let me clarify, many people buy or check out a book on the topic but the professor almost never assigns or even strongly suggests them. Plus, one of the laudable goals here is to save us some money so we don't have to buy the book.

Second, the bureaucracy still is problematic but I am getting used to it. For example, I had the opportunity to take a class in Arabic and I really wanted to do it. To do so, however, required going to another school, talking to the adminstration, trying to enroll, asking the prof if that would be ok, explaining that I was on exchange and thus hadn't paid at Dauphine but rather at SLU, etc. In the end, I just said screw it, it's not worth the trouble. Most of you know that I am the type to beat my head against the wall futilely over even the most trivial of concerns. Here, I just figured it would be too much work for too little gain.

The woman who runs our department's adminstrative side is very helpful and pretty much on top of things. She is no Gol, but she's close. Things are unsurprisingly just different here and well, I still the bureaucracy is worse I think but let's see how I feel in December. I can almost bet it's going to be worse when I am trying to get my grades for this semester but we'll see.

Here, as I alluded to in the first post, professors seem to miss class, come in late or the room has changed quite frequently. I went to my source on the French education system, Marine, and she told me that it is just like that here and that students don't really even think about it. Now, a couple of the French students in this class have been a little perturbed but it's not like my reaction. I am not accustomed to this kind of flexibility and at first, I don't react well.

In the first two photos, the professor was late because the room had changed and he either didn't know or forgot. Making matters worse, he didn't have the key when he did arrive and the administrator was not around.

The third photo was taken on Friday morning around 9:15 AM. We all thought we had a class that started at 8:30 AM on October 3rd. I wasn't there last week (I was hanging out with the Nazi youth in Normandie) and I heard that the professor never showed. Apparently this so unproblematic that no one even mentioned it to our administrator. Anyway, this week when the prof didn't show, Gregor went to ask about the class and found that it doesn't actually start for a week or two. OK.

This is of course no big deal. The class will happen and it will be good, bad or indifferent just like any class I have ever taken. I only even mention it to show a cultural difference. At SLU, the only time classes have been cancelled without notice is when there was some kind of emergency involving the professor or her family. Marine even mentioned that she was hoping that the prof at SLU would not show up but that it only happened when there was a death in the family. Here, it can happen any day.

In the end, it changes nothing about what we learn in the class. As I learn about the topics, I appreciate more and more the professor's expertise. They know what they are talking about, that is for sure.

Overall, however, the flexible nature of class schedule adds to the uncertainty I feel on a daily basis. Most of my uncertainty has nothing to do with school. It's just that I am not part of this culture and have only been here a month. Everything is harder here and most of it is not because I am in France but rather because I am in a really freaking big city. Travel always takes longer, people aren't aggressive with me as much as they are indifferent to me, and things are really expensive. Given that I am now in the 25th grade, the academic environment is something I am pretty familiar with and, more importantly, comfortable with. Not here, at least not yet.

Plus, for all my travel all over the U.S. and some parts of the world, I think I am becoming a homebody. I remember my Grandpa explaining why he didn't want to spend the night at our house in Edwardsville during the holidays. He would say he just wanted to sleep in his own bed; that he wasn't comfortable when he wasn't at home. At the time, that made absolutely no sense to me. Now, after meeting and marrying Sheridan, home means something really really special to me. She makes my environment comfortable and peaceful. It is a place I want to be. Things are easy there and they aren't here. I am being pushed just outside my comfort zone and it's harder than I thought. Not too hard but harder than I thought.

To end with, here's a picture of what home means: Sheridan and Abbey.

"Excusez-moi mais savez-vous ou se trouve..."

This is how our mystery guest started a conversation with me and my friends near the end of La Nuit Blanche. Our merry band of heroes

were marching towards my place with Erik, the person who had been here the shortest period of time, leading us. Anyway, she asked us if we knew how to get to some place and, since the Germans had their trusty maps and we were all a bit loopy after a long, harrowing night of drinking and being trapped in the metro,

it didn't seem out of the ordinary at all.

At any rate, after we all talked for a minute or two we figured out that where she wanted to go was closed (obviously in retrospect) and asked her if she wanted to come with us. She did. So, she came back to my place with all of my friends at 3AM.

At first everything was fine. In fact it was great because she seemed interested in Erik and I thought the night would have a funny ending. Instead, she became increasingly creepy as the night went on. I can hear my editor and voice of reason practically screaming "What did you expect from some random woman you met in the street at 3AM who agreed to go back to your place with a group of complete strangers?" Point taken, but at the time...

How was she creepy? I can't really explain it but something about her just seemed a bit off.

I'll admit that I am less sensitive to the signs that a French person is a bit off than I am to an American person. Even then, people who are a bit off are interesting and I often befriend them. You know who you are.

The point of departure is that she said she didn't know where she was going when we met her in the street. Later, she said she had lived in Paris for two years. Then she said she was a nurse. Ok, but then she said she was a student. When Erik and I talked about Normandie she said she was from Normandie. Later, I told her I couldn't understand her name she wrote it down. When I said that her handwriting didn't look like most of the French people's handwriting that I knew, she said she was Italian.

Then, she pulled out this wig and said she wore it/carried it around to look more like a man. Ok.

Ok, so the wig thing was fun. (Editor's note: It's my blog so I left out the picture of me in the wig but it's available upon request)

Then she pulled out this fairly expensive and somewhat professional looking camera and started taking pictures of us like she was a paparazzi. You know, she didn't look through the camera, she just aimed it at us and took what seemed like 20 or so pictures in rapid succession.

I have a digital recorder to help me with class and she was really interested in recording our conversations.

In any case, the cumulative effect of her weirdness, the beverages and the lateness of the evening began to weigh on me and I was very skeptical of her. I had cooked up a couple Croque Monsieurs (that's French for grilled cheese sandwiches with ham) because the crowd was hungry (and to get rid of the meat that Erik had brought into my vegetarian apartment). She ended up eating the bulk of one of them and then threw part of it at me.


She also said something flippant about America or us or something and I told her she needed to leave. I am not going to say I was completely innocent in this matter because a number of evenings have ended this way in my life.

Anyway, before leaving she made kind of a furious dash around the apartment looking for something and then went into the bathroom. Erik asked if she ahd taken anything. I hadn't even thought about it but no, she hadn't taken anything. My camera, my wallet, my passport and a bunch of money were all still sitting right there. When she came out of the bathroom she looked wounded and said she had gone too far and she was sorry but that she didn't steal anything. I said ok but that she should still leave as it was nearly 6:00 AM and everyone was leaving (except Gregor of course).

So that's it. In writing it doesn't seem that bizarre but most of those who were there suggest she was probably a little unbalanced or had some kind of mental illness. Erik and I wondered if maybe she didn't have any where to go and this is how she managed to find a place for the night.

La Nuit Blanche

Saturday night Paris put on an amazing show where they invited artists to display their work and light up a bunch of the monuments in town. I am going to tell the story mostly in pictures in response to a certain reader's complaints that I write too much. I suppose that doesn't shock anyone who knows me but I am willing to make an effort here.

Erik and I had a few beers on the canal before the festivities.

Then we had some in the metro.

Erik and I met up with the students from the master's program for a few drinks.

Erik tried to make friends with Gregor and Christin, both German students, by telling them about his trips to Munich, Frankfort, and Berlin. To each they responded "That's hardly Germany!" Who knew?

Then Zsuzsanna and Christin consulted the program to find us a place to go.

Then we headed to the metro thinking "The metro is fun!"

Oh, no it's not.

and now it's getting crazy.

seriously crazy
<and now we're stopped in the middle of the tunnel, not moving with the door open


people are starting to panic a bit

Wolf's not worried though

I say we are getting out!

We're only 50 yards away from safety(if the metro doesn't start running again) but people are really panicking now.

They aren't letting others off the train now.

We all got off and were ok, but people needed a beer.

and a cigarette.

We were a bit shaken up but we decided to keep going because it is still a beautiful city and it was only 2:00 AM or something like that. The only problem was we didn't really plan to get off here and thus didn't know where we were.

Good thing the Germans brought a map.

Turns out it was a map to a magical beer called the Amsterdam maximator. You can't tell now but it was the beginning of the end for Gregor.

The metro being closed people had no way back so they came to my place. It wasn't just Gregor who was tired, or whatever.

There's one part of this story that is left untold because I just wanted to put this up here since it's been a few days. Here's a preview of the next part though.