"Some clients think that the Normandy beaches are in Caen..."

My buddy Erik is in town for a week so there has been a fresh breath of American air in Paris. We were thinking of taking a day trip somewhere else in Europe but it turns out that things like cheap train tickets for students don't apply to 36 year old students. Anyway, after finding out that some trips were prohibitively expensive, we settled on going to see the Normandy beaches.

After struggling with the website for the SNCF (it turns out that if making money is not your first and likely only goal, websites aren't that user friendly), we went to the station and bought a ticket to Caen. Setting off with basically no plan, we got on the train for about two hours to do some historical tourism.

Arriving in the train station, we consulted a map and found to our chagrin that the Normandy beaches were not very close to Caen. Just as we were discovering this, a friendly old English speaking man approached us and told us about a tour available at the museum at 2:00. He had to be in his 60's with white hair covered by a baseball cap, bad teeth and walking like Phil Jackson before one of his multiple hip operations. He was wearing a stained yellow sweater, dirty khakis, white tennis shoes and a fanny pack. From this fanny pack he pulled out a map with the words "THIS BELONGS TO HANS!" at the top and showed us where the museum tour would go. More details followed: the museum would be in a crowded minivan, it would ONLY last three hours and how can you see anything in three hours, it wouldn't stop in various ports, the guides don't know anything about the beaches or World War II, and it costs 69 euros a piece. He then stated: "I will do the same tour except better and you can ride in my comfortable car for the same price. I am the expert on Normandy, ja. I have been doing this for 35 years, no one knows more than Hans. I normally charge 150 euros a head for my tour but for you two Americans, I will do it for the same price as the museum tour! So, we go to my car, ja?"

As this was no simple three card monte scam, I was overwhelmed and perplexed by its sophistication. Here was a charming old English speaking German with a dirty yellow sweater, a map with his name on it and his own car! I, for one, was sold but Erik wouldn't let us buy so early. He wanted us to take a walk and think it through so we told Hans we would get something to eat and maybe come back later. He told us to meet him over at the Chinese restaurant at 2:00 if we wanted to go.

We walked through Caen, got something to eat, and tried to go to the office of tourism to check out the prices on the museum tour. Caen being a French city, the tourism office was closed for 2 hours for lunch which would take us to right up to two o'clock, the witching hour for our trip with Hans. No other tours in sight, we were faced with the prospect of going to a bar in Caen and getting ugly American drunk instead of seeing the beaches, something we could have done in Paris.

Hans was our only hope so we went back, but with a plan. I, being the skilled negotiator of many a Cadillac and mobile home sale, would simply let Hans know that we were only interested in a shorter tour for less money. If he didn't agree, we'd just go the ugly American route.

Back at the Chinese restaurant, Hans came riding up on his bicycle, waving happily to us as he approached. He told us to come over to the back of the restaurant where his fine 1988 Toyota with an electrical tape covered back passenger window awaited us. As he locked up his bike, I negotiated the terms. He immediately conceded with a happy and loud "Ja, ja, of course!" He opened the car doors, ripped a huge loud fart and started the car.


Before seeing the beaches, however, Hans took us by Hertz. We thought maybe we would have to pay to rent a reliable car for the tour in addition to paying for the tour, but we were mistaken. Hans had recently bought a car from the Hertz dealer and was going to pick it up today. He drove us around the building to an alley. There was a tall guy with scruffy facial hair, his long-hair in a pony tail, standing there smoking a cigarette. Hans said that was the guy and he had to get to his safe in the trunk to pay for the car. It seems the clutch on the Toyota was going out and they couldn't repair for another week so he was just going to buy another car for 800 euros from the alley behind the Hertz dealer.

We then switched cars and left Caen, the train station, and any hint of familiarity we had with the area with out white haired guide to get some gas. Hans alternately cursed other drivers as "Idiots", "Bastards" and "Fools" on our way there. Once arrived, he exited the car to fill it up and gave us one of his "brochures" to read. The brochure was a poorly typewritten piece of paper that included much of the earlier sales pitch about how his tour was better than the others being offered, how knowledgeable he was and finally, how the 69 euros a piece price must be paid before leaving Caen. When he finished with the gas, he asked if we had read the brochure and stuck out his hand for the 69 euros. I countered that we had negotiated a lower price for a shorter tour but he responded that the mileage was the same. This of course made no sense if we were going on a shorter tour but before I could respond, Erik was digging out some money. He figured let's just pay and be done with it and he was right. All problems of this type can be solved without conflict with money, he said. Plus, what choice did we have now that we were at the gas station five miles outside of town?

After that little miscommunication, the day was actually fantastic. Hans gave us all kinds of insights on off the map locations such as cheap and beautiful chateaus, great restaurants, unmarked areas of historical interest and general information about the battles on the beaches.

We spent a long time at the American military cemetery which was amazing and truly depressing. I don't want to go too far into it here but I just can't imagine a similarly well received military intervention. I am no historian, but it made me long for a time where American intervention was desired at the time and celebrated long after. I wholeheartedly recommend this cemetery to anyone who makes a trip to France.

Back to Hans, he was equally knowledgeable about the American and German loss of life, victories, and strategic failures. He noted the brilliance of the English engineers who built the still existing artificial harbor at Arromanche, the effective attack on the long guns at Longues sur Mer contrasted by the failure to bomb the machine gun nests on the beaches, and the contrasts between the American and German military cemeteries. He went on at length with technical precision about the military equipment of both sides, with special praise for the American Rangers and the 88 German cannon.

Because Pointe du Hoc was closed at this point, Hans took us to the American Rangers museum. We paid four euros a piece and Hans got in free to see a documentary about the Rangers scaling the cliffs and taking out the artillery there. We were pretty tired at this point but even in our fatigued state we couldn't help noticing that substantial parts of this "documentary" were actually clips from "The Longest Day".

Near the end of our 6 hours with Hans, he stopped the car near a monument to the French pilots who died during the battle. Translating from the French he noted their bravery, heroism and ultimately their failure in the face of the superior "88" German cannon that shot down half of them, ja.

I commented that there was an astonishing loss of life during this battle, having just seen the numbers (10, 625 Americans and over 22,000 Germans, not to mention the British, Canadians, etc.). Hans said "Ja, when I was 16 yrs old and in the Hitler-Jugend I thought to myself, 'I will be drafted soon and have to go to Siberia. No, I will join the Luftwaffe and fly planes in officer training school." Ok, I know I was groggy but I am pretty sure our guide on the tour of the Normandy beaches had just said he was a member of the Hitler Youth and an officer in the Luftwaffe. "The first day of air training I was awaiting my turn in the plane when I hear that the rest of the flights are cancelled. How so? No gasssss! No gas? How can we win war with no gas? No gas for planes. No gas for tanks. They say on the radio that the Allies have landed at Normandy and we will push them back into the sea. I say shut your mouth you fools for we have no gas because they bomb us every day! I give the Nazis a few more days and then I have to act in my own interest."

Turns out the guy who had been driving us around for nearly 6 hours was not only 81 years old, a former member of the Hitler-Youth (but I am pretty sure everyone was forced to do this then), a former officer in training in the Luftwaffe but also a deserter. Yep, Hans bolted to Bavaria to hide with his cousin until the war was over. He said he was never so happy as when he saw those American GIs coming into his town. He returned to where his mother was living---her original house had been bombed by the allies and she was living in a state provided structure. He spent two or three years there and then...well, there's about a twenty year gap in the story. He says he has been in France for the last 40 years doing tours like this one. I am not sure if he ever spent any time in Argentina but I wasn't asking at this point.

One last thing, he picked us up in Caen where we were going to catch train back to Paris at 8:00. It was about 6:45 or so and I asked him how long it was going to take back to Caen. He said that all of his clients took the train back from Bayeux and were happy to do so because the traffic is so busy in Caen and one risks to miss the train. I gave light resistance but unsure about the Luftwaffe officer's twenty year gap, I decided that was fine. Plus, like Erik said, this problem can be solved with money so we just paid the difference and were happy about it, as were all of Hans's clients.

In parting, Hans told us he was happy to meet us and congratulated us for being better informed than most Americans. It turns out that most of his clients thought that the beaches were in Caen. "No, they are 25 miles from Caen and without me, they are lost." With that, he stopped the car in the middle of a somewhat busy intersection and let us out in the rain 200 yards from the train station.

Une prise electronique, brancher, and things I took for granted

What do these terms mean? Well, une prise electronique is an outlet or a plug and to plug in to one of them is brancher. I didn't know these vocabulary terms until a week or two ago but I won't ever forget them now. It seems the best way to learn something is: 1) be overconfident about your knowledge; 2) have that bubble burst by a somewhat rude (French) person; 3) take for granted that things are the same in your town or country as they are everywhere else; 4)have to pay some money to learn it.

There is a pizza place about two blocks from my house that I go to fairly often because they have free wi-fi (that's wee-fee in French) to go along with $3 espressos. It's a pretty cool little place and the guy who works there most often is very nice.

Anyway, one day about a week or two ago, I went there after a long and bad day of not understanding the French system and being alerted to my ignorance in many nasty and sometimes confrontational ways. I wanted to use the internet and recharge my battery because it had nearly died during the 8 hour day of classes.

One thing I didn't note in my first blog was that there aren't very many outlets in the classrooms here. Fortunately, there aren't that many French students who use computers to take notes. In any case, there is still a pretty high value to getting access to one of the two or three outlets in the classroom. I actually had access to one of the outlets until the professor in my three hour seminar stepped on the cord and knocked it out of the wall.

So, I stop at the pizza place, order a coffee, and ask in French if I can use this and then pointed at the plug. The guy, who was neither the waiter I was used to nor very friendly, said yes, no problem C.P. I thought he was using an abbreviation for plug (explanatory note: there are a lot of abbreviations here and there seem to be even more in law classes) and went on about my business. I drank my 1,80 euro cafe, used the internet, and charged my battery.

After about an hour and a half, I decided to go back to my place. Of course the waiter hadn't returned over that period of time either to ask me if I wanted anything else or see if I wanted the bill. I know this is culturally different and that giving good service here involves leaving me alone and I often appreciate that especially when I am really only there to use the internet. However, the coffees are pretty small so it would make some sense to come round every once in a while to check. Anyway, he didn't so I went inside to pay for my 1,80 euro coffee.

Much to my chagrin, and probably predictably at this point in the post, the coffee cost me 5 euros. I asked the guy how much the coffee was and he said it was 1,80 but I had to pay for the electricity. I said I didn't know that and he started getting a little aggressive. He said yes he did tell me; that when I arrived I asked if I could "brancher" and he responded "oui, c'est pas un probleme mais c'est payant." What I took for an abbreviation, what I thought was C.P. or, in some weak version of phonetics "say pay", was actually him telling me sure you can plug in here but you have to pay for it. He went on to tell me that it was normal to pay for electricity and I should have known it. Well, I had already paid him so it wasn't like I was trying get out of paying so I didn't understand what he was so mad about. But since you could fill the Grand Canyon with what I don't know, I wasn't fighting very hard.

Although I will never forget those two vocabulary words and I will never take it for granted again that electricity is typically free if you have paid for some good or service, I have also learned that it is not at all normal to pay pour brancher in French restaurants. I have been in about five other bars, cafes, and restaurants and asked if I could plug my computer in. Not one of them has asked me to pay for it. Further, when I relate my little tale of woe that I just related to you, they all say that is not normal and that this guy was taking advantage of me.

Introduction and Culture Shock

I am studying law in France for one semester. It seemed like a good way to take advantage of my many years spent in grad school for French and my two years of law school. I thought it was a good idea at the time but now I am starting to have some doubts. I am away from Sheridan, Abbey, and a culture I pretty much understand in America. So, I am going to do what everyone seems to do in this day and age and publish my thoughts and feelings so everyone (meaning noone) can read them. My friend Steve is doing the same thing about his time in Ireland and I am going to steal some of his ideas. Like, I will try to post a picture and comment on it each day.

However, for my first post, I am just going to give a general update on how class has been going. Most of this simply outlines differences between law school back home and law school here.

First, even though I have studied French for a long time and can very easily get around in almost every situation, this is harder than I thought it was going to be. As it was in law school in the states, it's not actually the words, it's their specific, technical meaning. The problem for me right now is that this Master's program I am doing rightly assumes a certain level of knowledge given that almost everyone in it has done law school in France. Consequently, they know how the courts work , what a pourvoi is, and how to qualifier un probleme juridique.

Second, the bureaucracy is much worse here and maybe more importantly, it is different. For example, I enrolled in school here last Tuesday, the 23rd of September. That may not sound like a big deal but we started class on the 8th of September. To enroll, there is an unnecessarily long process that involves many different departments, none of whom seem to know what the other is doing. After enrolling, you should receive a student card which, among other things, gets you internet access, access to the gym and allows you to check out books from the library. Well, I still haven't received it yet so I can't do any of those things. It is absolutely driving me crazy and the idea that you would expedite something doesn't seem to exist.

Third, there is entrenched hierarchy between professors and students I don't understand. Professors arrive late, skip over breaks, and keep you after class seemingly with no concern at all for the students. The syllabus seems to be an unknown quantity. Each class so far has begun with five to ten minutes where the professor basically tells us that he or she is in charge, we will not ever miss a class, and we will be interrogated daily. Some of this isn't that different from school at home, but there seems to be such an ingrained hierarchy here that there is no room for response.

Fourth, there are no required textbooks for the courses. Instead, there are bibliographies that include 5-10 textbooks, a bunch of articles, manuals, treatises, etc. Because of this, there are typically no assigned readings. This may sound great but it is not. What you get in class is a professor essentially reading directly from a book she won't share with you or just professing, with no reference to any book whatsoever. After a mind numbing three hours, I went to the library and looked over one of the books on the bibliography. To my surprise, the book said almost word for word what the professor just spent three hours reciting to us. Eventually, the book will help me but of course, I can't check it out yet because I don't have my student card yet.

My real question is why not just assign us the book in advance? Because French students don't want to buy the books? A few of my French friends tell me that's the reason. OK, well, first of all, you either don't pay or don't pay very much for school so why not pay for some books? Second, most end up buying them anyway. Anyway, I don't get it but. What I do know is that I really don't want to pay for the books because unlike them, I am paying my home institution's tuition, which is significantly more than the almost nothing they pay. Of course, after you've already paid $34,000, what's twenty euro?

Finally, scheduling is insane. Basically, we were sent a schedule of classes predictably including the following information: time and duration of each class, room assignment, professor's name. Seems pretty straightforward, right? Well, the only thing is that all of these things can change on a daily basis and some of them do. Most frequently, the class time and room assignment changes. Essentially, I have to go by the admin's office each day to ensure I am going to the right room at the right time.

Perhaps more infuriating however, is that we currently have one class on Monday, one on Tuesday, four on Wednesday, one on Thursday and none on Friday. All of this is going to change of course because classes don't uniformly start at the beginning of the semester and end at the end. They can start and end at seemingly anytime. On Wednesday, we are in class from 10:00 AM until 5:15 with nothing but a 15 minute break every two hours. Then we break until 7:00 and stay in class until 8:30 PM.

It just doesn't make sense. Wait, it makes perfect sense just not from the student's perspective. If you look at it from the professor's point of view, this is probably when they are available and want to teach. OK, fine, I am going to stop bitching now.