Finally French, with a Few Flaws

Oh, my horoscope is right:
TAURUS (April 20-May 20): I usually don't have to tell you Bulls how important it is to finish what you've started. You are, after all, among the top three signs of the zodiac when it comes to following through. But just in case you've momentarily fallen under the sway of a delusion that would encourage you to escape before the resolution is fully in place, I'm here to remind you: It's time to make the art of completion your graceful obsession.

I had to fire a colleague from conference planning and now am on my own as the leader of the event, but have learned so many good lessons from this: delegate, communicate, and then, move on if all else has failed.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

So, the firing was Wednesday night. Thursday, I was tired and grumpy when I got up, and it trickled down all day until an outburst that wasn't so nice. Short on rest and finally fed up, I reached a point of no longer being patient with all things French (or Parisian).

The carte de sejour. It's a brutal process to re-apply for the residency permit, but it's made a bit easier at school because there's one poor, sweet woman who attends to all the students (between select hours) for our applications. I remember seeing her last year after waiting for 4 hours one day, and then on another day after a 2-hour wait. The first time I didn't even make it in to see her. After 4 hours waiting, she came out of her office and apologized, but it was the end of the day and she wouldn't be seeing any more students. The second time I made sure I had all the necessary paperwork to ensure I wouldn't have to return - and I didn't! Got the temporary letter of permission, followed it with the doctor visit, and then got the official card to say I could stay in this country.

So, now I'm renewing, which should be easy. But, no bureaucratic thing in France is. I went for my first visit two weeks ago. With about 12 people in line, she wasn't accepting any more applicants at the 3pm hour. Left defeated and irritate. It's about a fifteen-minute walk from class - not much, but it becomes a lot when you're squeezing it in between class, lunch, class.

Returned last week and got in line behind ten people. Waited patiently, got some good work done, and finally got my chance. Had everything needed but a 3-month set of bank statements - I imagine the French government wants to assure spending within its borders or enough money to weather the financial crisis.

While I waited there were like 10 legitimate people for their first visit and repeated line-cutters who only had a few papers to turn in after being turned away with instructions for return.

She's a sweet paper lady, the carte de sejour woman. Does she have a name plate? Nope. Do we know her name on her door? No. She's like anon carte de sejour lady. Smiling even while I could barely write my name for lack of food, which produced hand shaking. She is patient and even-spirited. I'm sure she drinks a whole bottle of Pinot Noir each night and must smoke a pack a day just to get through, although I'm not sure when she'd find time for a break.

Yup, everything in order but the bank statements - a new turn for this year.

So, I came back about a week later. Asked the waiting students how the day was going and realized we had a first-timer, and two who just needed to drop their additions off - bank statements or other papers. Gradually, over the hour I was there, more and more people came and thought they had the right to just go to the office and basically jump the line. I tried my horrible French to ask what they were there for and to indicate that, yes, we were all here for a carte de sejour, which humbled most into getting in line. After about a half-hour with the first-timer in the office, trying to navigate in broken French and English between carte de sejour lady and the applicant, people started to lose their patience. The Aussie gal was like, I'm gonna get sacked if I don't make it back to work. I was corralling people into line. The Canandian boy was too timid to coral and admitted it. The last woman was Chinese, who unfortunately supported my style of dictating to the others.

After explaining to two students, I told the Aussie and the Canadian waiting that it was their turn to keep watch and explain. Aussie had perfect French and convinced a Russsian girl to leave due to time constraints. The Canandian got nowhere and never spoke.

I let the Aussie jump me to get her paperwork in and get off to her job. Then, a woman showed up and I informed her we were all in line for the same thing. She acknowledged and yet still waited at the open door. After the first-timer left, the Aussie went in and was rounding up her paperwork, and then - after me waiting there an hour and half - the French woman took a step inside the office. I know where it came from, from the bottom of my belly, from desperation, from tiredness, from justice, from impatience, from what is right. I jumped up and cut her off and had a heated explain in Franglo (French-English combo) that, dude, she might just have to "posé une question" but we all to just pose a question so get in line, woman. It was quite a complex exchange of my fumbling words and her defensiveness.

But after me not jumping the line, after being patient, after letting Aussie-freak-out-get-sacked, after all of it, I wasn't patient anymore. There is a process in the world - maybe not in France, but in the world there is respect for others and a degree of understanding that you have to wait your turn. And, maybe I was trying to transpose an American value, but dammit, I was fed up with the weird system I was subjected to. So, I Franglo'd my way through and she stormed out - after commenting that I didn't need to be so stressed, that all she had was a question, that it's not a big deal.

I entered to the empty seat opposite carte de sejour lady and she smiled, "Well (in French), I see you've been very patient. Thank you. Let's get this going." I informed her, with smiles and relaxed, that it was no big deal and that I'd be quick and all I had were my bank statements. She basically ignored the rest of my dossier (which she already approved, but generally wanted to look over in 2nd detail review), looked at the dates of my statements, approved, and signed a quick form.

It wasn't that I felt power at that moment, but that I felt justice. I'm still not used to this system where anything goes. Where the line at the post office all of a sudden becomes 2 strange lines because someone inches up alongside instead of behind and then thinks they can challenge you to the open window (when only 2 of 4 are open -- is this not just like Buenos Aires in 1988?). The lines at any window - a train station, a boulangerie - there's no form to them. They are layered and who cares who was there first - it's survival of the fittest - if you can edge up, you get served. So, damn me if I'm going to fight for that window then.

It was quite unusual for me. Even before entering carte de sejour hell, I'd spent 45 minutes in line at the post office to mail my election ballot. I'm patient. I'm even. I'm forgiving and I'm flexible. But only to a point.

I have started to understand the pattern of walking and transportation. It's like India, it seems like mass chaos, but people have their own patterns and rules for merging, signaling, crossing. In Paris, in Europe, the scooters take the free space of the roads or sidewalks, the cars merge quickly, the buses have a greater right if you don't beat them first, everyone has great brakes. Passing on the sidewalk there's no walk on the right, pass on the left. There is no order. It's free for all and each for their own - don't run over the bicyclist, don't rear-end the scooter, don't get rear-ended (and they are MUCH better drivers than in the USA). But it's a pattern I don't get yet. I still think it's more efficient to find a general agreement to path and passing. A conformist understanding. But they seem to make this chaos work. Not for me, not yet. So, when someone cuts the line, I take issue. Or, I took issue.

It felt good to defend myself, but I also felt tremendously like an a-hole.

I'm still not sure how to balance this.

Following this encounter, I was on my home, waiting for the bus. Three young girls, maybe ten or eleven years old, were goofing off waiting for the bus, too. One of them pushed another and she dropped her empty pop can on the sidewalk. They were giggling and pushing each other - you pick it up, no you. A mom walked by with her two kids and pointed the empty can to the girls and scolded them to pick it up. They laughed as she walked off and finger-pointed at each other again - you pick it up, no you. After I noticed that they were almost content to let it sit, I decided to say something.

Frankly, I'd been practicing this in my head since I saw a few juvenile boys launch their burger wrappers into the street. So, I turned to two of them, and said, "Mademoiselle, ça c'est pour la poubelle, c'est ne pas pour la rue." I'm sure this is wholly incorrect, but they both lurched for the can and picked it up and then giggle-fought over who had to deposit it. The bus came so I missed the end of it all. They got on and I read my homework the way home while listening to their giggles on the bus.

This felt less like power or old-lady-correcting, and more like, damn it, I like Paris and she gets trashed too often. Granted, there are paid sidewalk washers and street cleaners and poubelle picker-uppers, but people shouldn't just get lazy about it all. They'll still need the sidewalk washers and poubelle-picker-uppers since dogs still can't seem to pick up their own poops, and pigeons aren't trained yet, and there's still garbage in the poubelle. But at least we could stop adding to the crap.

I still felt like an a-hole. Who am I to think I can take a stand like this? I'm just a visitor. This isn't my country, nor my town. But I do like to abide by the "home is where I lay my head." So, I guess I do feel like I belong and I'd like to respect it.

My French has definitely improved though. So has my courage.

Who says the French aren't nice?

The other day, after returning from India:

I stopped in to the cave à vin (wine cellar, aka "cave") to see my wine guy. We chatted and he was delivered 2 slices of pizza from next door for his dinner. Just making conversation I said I aime'd pizza and he packed up a slice for me along with my bottle of wine.

Across the street I visited with my boulangerie lady and didn't realize a line had formed behind me. I was scrambling to pay with coins for my 90c baguette and was short 10c when the 12-year-old boy behind me said, (essentially) "I have 10c for the lady."

The bus drivers say bonjour and bonsoir.

The Monoprix lady wants so badly to give me a plastic bag for my items that she's slightly insulted when I tell her I have my own bag.

My friends Wilfried and Sarah offer to swing by tomorrow when they're in the neighborhood since I'm sick.

And the other day I went to the Madeleine metro to go to Les Trois Quartiers, picked up the sleeping bag, and went back down to catch the metro home. And you never know what you'll find:




An accident on the line causing the metro to be delayed. A line of several people deep:


Turn around to go back up to catch the bus and



the escalators are broken...


But, in the spirit of unity, a nice woman stopped to help an older lady get up the stairs

Between 4 papers, a few notes

NUMERO UNO: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMANA MIA!!!! You look one day more beautiful! xoxo


1) Don't believe the hype. The world is not filled with terrorists out to get the USA. It *is* filled with people who dispise Bush and think Americans are stupid for re-electing him. But don't believe the Republican Presidential candidates when they say "be very afraid, cower, they're coming with the Atom bomb, you must hire me to protect you." And if the Dems start saying that, by god, call 'em on it.

2) I am growing a bit tired of defending or explaining my country of birth (notice: not country of growth or country of favorite countries or country where I chose to stay to do my grad work because damnit it's so great). I try in broken French to explain how I am fed up with Bush and how sorry I am for all the damage he's done to the world. I try to feel calm when a speaker/lecturer/person with whom I am speaking says several negative things in a row (almost all justified) about "America" when really they mean "Many of America's Administrations and A Lot of America's Bad Movies and Most of the Commercialism That You've Exported or Allowed Leave Your Country or Voted into Office." Also, we need to start remembering to dissociate America from The United States. My fellow Americans, from Canada to Mexico to Colombia to Chile to Argentina, don't like being associated with the America of Imposed Democracy of the US Flavor. And, *I* am not American or United Statesian in that fashion. I tell them (when it's appropriate - I'm not about to raise my hand during a workshop and say, "I'd like to clarify here that *I* in fact worked for 6 years to fight Bush's policies and didn't sleep for weeks in order to get my own state Wisconsin to vote blue." It would be tacky to turn the spotlight on me), yes, I do tell them that I did do those things and that I don't buy into buying big cars and big houses and more and more and more and more. I reduce, reuse, recycle - do you, Mr/Ms Frenchy? (Such a disapointment to see the paper mixed with the banana peels.) I tell them I don't think the Iraq or Afghan wars were justified and I supported legislators who said so, but it would be a fuckall if we ditched the countries without some kind of support structure (excuse the French). I try to tell them that I'd like to make the world a better place but usually I feel like that's a bit overstating my own powers - and seems very American - what's a better place? From whose perspective?

3) The restaurant on the corner is owned by an Indian. The shisha bars are owned by Moroccans. The new, single bed was delievered - and kindly put together - by Algerians. The boulangeries are run by French. A lot of the prostitutes and their pimps in the hotel next door are Russians. There are two massage parlors (with happy endings I think) across the street owned by Thais. My tailor and his assistant are Turk and Romanian respectively. Around the corner I've got super fried juicy Chinese food made by Chinese folks. Downstairs a few doors over, a Japanese restaurant. The woman who presses clothes in the laundromat is Colombian. Yes, I really am living and going to school in international, real world places. I don't know that I would have gotten quite this exposure in Chicago, Philly, or even London. Although, I might not get this kind of living community in other arrondissements either.

4) I am proscrastinating my papers.

5) Paris hit 32F today. It doesn't feel that cold to me though. Probably due to the lack of snow. I can see my breath outside and it's super grey cloudy. But NO SNOW! YAY!!!!

6) I got my packages in the mail today - 2 people in front of me in line only! Then again, I was at the poste at 1pm. Also, PP & Family - he said it'd take a week. Hm. Curious. I'd like to see how true this is.

7) I made a law! Or at least, that's what I want on my invisible gravestone. And a do-gooder law at that. Ok, ok, I didn't make it, and I certainly didn't make it alone and it isn't a law yet, but I did help make the "Compassionate Care for Rape Victims" bill and get it through the Wisconsin legislature in 6 years. I stayed up until 1am to catch the Assembly floor debate but they were in caucus that time. So, I asked my rockstar ex-colleagues to ping me on Skype when they went to the floor on our issue. Slept until about 5am when Andrea pinged me to wake up! wake up! wake up! Only they weren't on our issue yet. So I napped until 6am (I had already emailed my French prof that I wouldn't be in class). Woke up miraculously to the quiet call on Skype again. Got to hear the whole twisted, ugly, wonderful floor debate. Some legislators - even women - can be assholes toward rape survivors. It's shocking really. Thank goodness for the WI Eye though because now people can see them being so in real time - and later... for advertisements... or additional public viewing.... at crucial times... like maybe... election season. And again, I was in admiration of my ex-intern superstar, who during the 2nd month of her year+ long internship started speaking out about her own experience with sexual assault and the empowerment of being offered a decision about her own life through the question "Would you like to take a pregnancy preventative, Emergency Contraception?" More than I, SHE made the law.

8) We've had all the presentations on our dual-degree partners: London School of Economics, Colombia in NYC, Hertie in Berlin, Lee Kuan Yew in Singapore. While I feel like I should go to Hertie in Berlin for all the practical reasons (cost, cost, cost), I think I need to follow the goals and dreams and stay here. It's exciting when people ask me if I'm going home for the holidays and I say, "Nope, I'm here for two years!" I don't think people understand it really. Why don't I want to go home? Why don't my parents love me anymore? Why doesn't my sister miss me? How could I spend the holidays ALONE? How could I not want to go BACK to my country? - I see this flash quickly across their faces. And I follow my statement up, "I told them, if they want to see me, they have to come to Paris! .. So sad, isn't it? Forced to visit Paris." and then "It's really not unusual for my family. Being in the military, we travelled a lot and spent a lot of holidays outside of the States. Plus, I'll see them next spring. Yes, I've spent Christmas away from my family. Actually, that Christmas in Portugal was momentarily kind of hard. About 4 of us exchange students were travelling in Lisboa and it was pouring rain and we took turns huddling under the umbrella and making the long-distance call home. What really got me was hearing my whole, extended family at my grandparents' farm. That's what I missed. But it's a bit different now. I'll miss them, but I'm SO excited to be away from the US and be in a foreign language country. Also, I might go to Madrid for Xmas. And, I've got friends in Paris who have all graciously offered me to join them for any holidays I can. So, no, my family haven't stopped loving me. No, I don't really want to go home yet. Nope, I won't be alone - if anything I'm sure like any other country, the Chinese restaurants are open on the 25th... Although, this IS France where no one works on Sundays so who knows!"

9) Get food in french - check. Use public transport in french - check. Get different sizes of bras (insisting on using my foreign language) in french - check. Write an email in horrible french to my cool banker - check. Give a 5 min presentation on immigrants to France from 1800s-1914 in french - check. Go to the doctor in french and not die - check. Get appropriate medications and submit the receipts for reimbursement in french - check. Get wonderful wine weekly from the corner 'cave' in french - check. Order awesome cheese in french for faux thanksgiving dinner - check. Re-order minutes on my cellphone by listening to automated prompting operator chick in french - check. Explain my political "aslyum" in french - check. Know when to ignore 'em, when to hold 'em, when to walk away, when to run in french - check. Get a date in french - check. Turn someone down in french - check. Tried to slyly weasel the student rate at the Club Med gym to a guy who turned veiny and red-faced at the thought of *me* being 32 and trying to scam the *under 28* student rate, dude, I said, it's only a question, calme, I'm not trying to make you angry in french - check. Okay, I think I've officially passed culture shock and have moved into somewhat-self-sufficiency in a foreign language. Next step is, I'm sure, The Big Argument on the street or with some kind of administrative personnel. Or, maybe The Emergency - like a pipe bursts or something comes flying through the window. I know I can call my landlord, but sometime I'd like to see if I can hack it. This would be like, Level 9 of French As French Do.

10) There are some really cool things happening around the city right now and I hope I get to catch some of them sometime (aside from the cool thing like, getting my hair trimmed because it's growing so fast!). There's this new exhibit at the national library releasing France's huge collection of erotica. "France's official hoard of erotica and pornography, lovingly assembled by the Bibliothèque Nationale over a period of 170 years, will be thrown open to the startled eyes of the public for the first time this week." ... Then there's the Academie de Musique which I won't be able to catch for the holiday season but will try for spring 08.

But for now... I need to stop procrastinating.

Happy holidays, everyone!!

xoxo

The lazy bubble

I remember my first year of undergrad at University of Minnesota in the Twin Cities. There were many factors in why I decided to drop-out after freshman year, but one of them occurred to me as I took a bus from campus (a city within a city really) to south Minneapolis to hang out with friends I'd met at the Riverside Cafe (a co-op, hippie/punk restaurant - Mat invited me to the Scooby Don't house). I got on the bus and noticed so many people that didn't look like me or my compatriots I'd see on campus. Campus seemed to me a bubble filled with privileged, trying hard to look laid back, Caucasian kids who were all protected from reality and the real city. So many ingredients were already brewing inside me leading to my sabbatical, but this one seemed to ice the cake. I had to get out of the bubble.

Living in Buenos Aires as a teenager threw me out of any bubble of protection and into the raw reality of child beggars, poverty, inequality, and instability. Back in the States, in my final 2-1/2 years of high school, I felt the bubble again. Not that I regret it. Thankfully, I was lucky enough to grow up with all my needs met (albeit challenged), safe, loved, clothed, fed. But at some point one needs to challenge those things to recognize how those key, basic elements should be appreciated.

Visiting south Minneapolis on the bus, near the 'hood, drug dealers, marginalized peoples, crack houses, decrepitude abundant, forgotten people - these things changed me and pushed me and popped me out of the university globe. And, actually, right into that 3-story Scooby Don't house where we now tell stories of gunshots, tvs tossed out of windows, angry children with eyes that harden by 10 years old, a coldness developed not from the weather. And maybe we just continue to form bubbles wherever we are. Scooby Don't house could be considered its own bubble, although we kept its exterior rather porous to the neighborhood (to our detriment at times), to the punk rock community (oh, those basement shows!), to travellers (train hopping, couch crashers), to family, to elements outside the cozy blankets inside.

And again, here I am in another bubble. Yes, I see reality here in Paris - class separations, homelessness (incredibly less prevalent here though), inequalities between sexes and races, etc.. But I am still insulated. My apartment with the beautiful view (the skies are the most amazing in this city: pollution? longitude/latitude? particles?), the bus dropping down by the Louvre and over the Seine, the MPA courses up on the 3rd floor behind two big heavy doors within the trendy 7th arrondissmont (Armani Casa across the street), the metro buried below the dirt and grass and litter.

I had no idea. I have no TV. When I can, I catch the local radio or stream in Radio K, The Current, or KEXP. I grab the front pages of International Herald Tribune when they're laying around the school. I had no idea that Paris was burning up in the suburbs. We just got over complaining and focusing on the greve. I wasn't anticipating a new revolt. But it is. The youth, the immigrants, the disenfranchised, the marginalized, the 'others' have been rioting against the police state. The divide between state and people has grown in the northern suburbs. Life is still grim.

I am fine. I am safe. I am in a protected bubble called Paris. "Suburbs" are not what we call "suburbs" in the USA. There are no gated communities with competition between lawn trimmings. Honestly though, I can't tell you what it looks like as I've never been there. I can't tell you what's going on really because I can't understand. I can only imagine. I know facts, but I am protected from facing them. Days go on here, further south where the sun is in the sky and it's in the 40F, where I'm consumed with agonizing over my policy paper. (I'm leaning toward comparing legalization/decriminalization/regulation of prostitution in Netherlands versus Sweden and its effects on the economy of the state and the health of the people.) If I thought I had time and it would do any good for the world, I'd go up there and take some photos. But I don't think that would help me or them or the world. It's not what I'm here to do, my mission. But it is a reminder to get more in tune with my surroundings. I'm not here just to learn about China, India, Europe or the globe, but to become acquainted with France and Paris and my neighborhood.

So, thank you for your concern and for thinking of me. I'm better than what you see on tv. Way, much better, and very safe.

We'll see if it does become like the 2005 riots and if it will catch on like wildfire across the country. Let's hope instead that it creates some kind of real, honest, healthy changes for the communities and dialogue between them and the police state.

Interesting reminder / take on the French and history and maybe why they are the way they are: Spaghetti Westerner.

More than just "Hello Bonjour"

It's a good day for school. While I did have to skip my 8am French and the 10am Situating Ourselves courses so I could start to figure out how to get a doctor's appointment, it was still a good day for class. (Don't worry mom, it's just a normal ol' sinus infection or something. I hear the French have great health care so I should be good to go at a cheap rate in no time.)

I do love my Le Gales "State Restructuring and Policy Change: Government and Governance" course. (you can read the PDF at the bottom of this website if you're so inclined.) Today, he gave a few minutes away from the (ahem, boring) readings on State Regulation Within the State to discuss our final policy papers (4,000 words our choice of topics) and then talked for about an hour with us on the state of France and the strike and Sarkozy. I guess it was the first time I really spoke up in class - since I was the one who emailed the request to discuss. Finally, I guess we all decided that it's definitely time for France to reform and catch up to the globalization playing field, but we're not sure if Sarkozy will do (or has been doing) it in the best manner possible. The French don't necessarily support the strikes this time around, but they're not all out counter-protesting (although some are) since they recognize that sometime in the future it might be their retirement plan Sarkozy comes after.

I caught my #68 bus this morning just as I was about to duck down into the metro to give it a try. I got the #68 back home - totally jammed crowded and crawling slowly through traffic jams. I'm sure the air pollution is doing wonders for my skin and lungs. Regardless, I totally support those folks on strike and I sympathize (especially since I have no idea what it's like to be a train operator), but I do agree that




The Times They ARE A'Changing
(c/o micoolcho in Singapore)

..............

Yeah, so I'm struggling with which policy I'll pick. He's recommended we do a comparative analysis of a policy in 2 countries/areas. We're also not supposed to do something we're familiar with - there goes CCRV. And, of course, we can't do overlapping projects either, ie turn this paper into my "Regulation, Adjudication and Dispute Settlement Beyond the State" class. (I'm thinking about looking at the recent cybercrimes in different countries and analyzing how they're being handled legally and with which international orgs.) In my "Managing Innovation in the Globalising Learning Economy" we're working in groups. I've been spending about 4-6 hours a week with these guys, one from Berlin and the other from Seoul - very cool. We're conducting a survey of future policy makers and current decision-makers, analyzing the impact of pop culture on Seoul and the cultural growth in Berlin after Reunification. It's called "Investment in Social Capital and Cultural Industry - An Argument for Advancing Policy to Enhance Economies of Metropoles." (I invented the title while looking over the application process to UNESCO - they ask for projects, papers, thesis in the CVs of potential interns.)

Whew. And then there's group work in Econ and some paper we're supposed to write in Stats, too. Thankfully our "Situating Ourselves in Complex Settings" class (Organizational Theory) is over tomorrow and it was more of a workshop than a class. We did group work (ugh) to analyze a colleague's previous work dilemma. We're all sworn to secrecy not to reveal any details as it could compromise the person and the institution. But basically it had to do with a large institution not following its own HR policies versus possible corruption with some folks pocketing money skimmed from around the edges. I'm not sure we resolved this one. But it was nothing compared to some dude who talked about the levels of corruption and outright illegal activity he witnessed in an unnamed South American country. Not so much 'org theory' as down-right f'd up ness.

I do like the way this program is really hands-on, not just theoretical, philosophical but we're digging in and doing. This Saturday we'll start four (voluntary) courses on Econometrics and really see how to analyze policy with statistics etc.. or something like that. Then, since there weren't enough 2nd year students signed up for one of the concentrations, "Political Economy of Welfare Reform" will be a lecture series open to all. I'm definitely doing both of these voluntary classes. I figure it's the only chance I'll get so why not. I'll see Paris soon.

Oh, and if you can't keep up - it's all updated on the Mac calendar. Including the Paris Photo exhibition that I did squeeze in for 4 hours on Thursday. I skipped out after my 2-min presentation to the presentation skills course (pass/fail, "taught" by a consultant, really lame). Lisa, I'll have you know I got my "grades" back today and all the students and the consultant chick gave me scores of good to very good. Thanks to you it's old hat, I guess. The calendar also includes the Interpol concert I hope to make on Wednesday night - metros and my health willing.

Dude, Nicole, were you around when I was obsessed with trying to win the KEXP giveaway for tickets to see them in Paris? I sent like a postcard a day - and even had to run over to the capitol to buy lame capitol postcards so I wouldn't miss a day. And then I found out they only wanted 1 postcard per person for the drawing. I was crushed. Well... It's Paris. It's Interpol. I hope I get some good drugs from the doctor. Mannnn...

PS. A short, funny description of the difference between strikes in Paris and the USA. I love the description of a manifestation - the one I witnessed on Wednesday near school, I'm almost 100% positive the striker guys were drunk.

Berlin on my mind, Paris in my heart

I just finished uploading 125 photos to the Berlin folder on Flickr. It's only Day 2 of the stay there of 6 so please be patient. Most of it is my walk from the wonderful apartment on Kanzowstraße to the Hertie School of Governance, my flatmates, the school, and a bit leading into our first real night there (girls on bikes). The hostess for our flat was actually at the "big kids" Global Public Policy Network conference in Singapore (along with 2 of our Sciences Po students) where they focused mainly on learning new pedagogic techniques and standards for accreditation. Our "little kids" student conference was the one in Berlin, the 2nd of its kind as London School of Economics hosted the first one this past March.

So, while the hostess was gone, we got to crash at her place. So very kind of her to offer it up. I ended up seeing a few interiors of flats while in Berlin. There's definitely a cookie-cutter aspect to some. Two of the ones I saw were identical - I mean identical - on the inside and about 10 blocks apart from each other. Shanaz was my flatmate and bedmate - suprising to the both of us. She's from the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy in Singapore and this was her first sight of autumn - I could only imagine the shock to her body and senses. In the guest room stayed Lu, also from the same school but originally from China so the seasonal change wasn't so foreign. Man, let me tell you the amazing discussions we had and how utterly patient they were with me. I mean, I was there for the conference primarily but also to socialize. And there was only one key for the whole flat. So imagine. I still think, embarrassingly, back on the lunch I had with colleagues in the US when my dad treated us and explained the biological effect of living in Buenos Aires on my constitution: I'm perpetually late to things and definitely a night owl. The truth can turn cheeks red!

The three of us ended up leaving the flat together every morning for 4 days, grabbing breakfast (coffee and a strudel treat for me, water and sandwiches for them) at the corner bakery (semi-chain sort of bakery/shop), waiting a bit for the tram (aka street car), and taking the 25 minute ride to Alexanderplatz and then walking to Schloßplatz in Mitte (map here for you map-philes). Yu and I had some very interesting discussions about the one-child policy of China and my family planning organizing background.

Once there, every day was nicely packed with speakers, panels, coffee breaks (proven to be the best starter for networking and ultimately power-brokering with the next Secretariats of the World), lunch in their totally Aramark-catered fantastic lunch room (the building is shared with ESMT - it's no wonder).

After a while I started to seriously consider applying to the dual-degree program and doing my 2nd year there. The academic program seemed spot-on, the facilities were futuristic compared to Sciences Po, the people seemed intelligent and warm, the weather familiar, the shopping so so so cheap, the food various and vegetarian, the beer wonderfully tall, the men more easy on the eyes, the night life more cutting edge, the English flowing in any situation, the horizon and time for Berlin very cutting edge and about to explode. All of these wonderful aspects and I looked at Sciences Po and Paris in my mind's eye and felt like I was attending an orphanage while visiting a palace. I felt a little like I should be defending my school and trying to remember why I loved it. But frankly, I've only been living here for 2 months and 1 day and attending actual classes for a month and half. I don't feel school spirit yet and at the price I'm paying (no help with the depreciation of the dollar, thank you) I feel like I need some serious vitamin shot of love!

But then I started seeing a bit of the reality. Sure, I was in a palace, but a palace with rigid, boxy structures and timeliness that hurt my soul. The cleanliness was too much (expect that I'd like to argue that the Germans let their dogs poo more on the sidewalks than the French do, thank you). The aim of the academics seemed wonderful (it was one of the programs I applied to but I had made my decision on Paris before I heard confirmation or rejection), but not quite as roomy as my program.

I realized I missed the stink of Paris. The chaos. The strikes (more coming this week). The overwhelming density of the city. I feel empowered here to fight for mine - a feeling I'm not so used to having been raised Scandinavian, Lutheran, and passive-aggressive Minnesotan to a degree. It's almost as if the lyrics "if I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere" apply more to Paris than NYC. The city of lights. The city of love. The city of distrust. The city of old ladies peering through the slats of their shutters down at the street, down at you. The city of two-hour walks to work. The city of perfected wine, perfect nose snubs, perfectly earthy cheese, perfectly unique skies. Things in disarray appeal to me and while I love the disjointed, free struggle of Berlin I'm much more in love with the wild, half-drunk off a bottle of wine, riotous and rambling, slurring and sexy, frightful and fenced off Paris.

Man, this is gonna totally hurt me financially. And I might very well change my mind in a month when the application procedure opens to dual-degree programs. But for now I'm not ready to give up on this city or the program or myself. I know in time I'll feel stronger and more proud.

Anyway. Go check out how Berlin is changing and meet some of my wonderful colleagues and new friends.

[PS. Oh, and I somehow ended up as the co-chair of the 2008 GPPN Student Conference in Paris. Don't ask, please. No really. Please.]


highlights:

on the train, during the Berlin strike










autumn out the apartment window









flatmates in Berlin








Henry addresses the conference, Hertie











Television Tower in stereo

The Magic of the Flute

Self-note in Moleskine: when asking Fabien about dress codes for events, instead, ask what kind of event it is.

the opera was modern opera, more of a performance art than stuffy, ol', sleepy opera. It's too bad that the other MPA students were too tired tonight to go out. School has been draining in all fronts, but I had quite fun at the opera tonight. Fabien and his friends went, as well, so I had company though I was planning to be there alone. Costume design rocked and there was a punk rocker as Monostatos. The orchestra was a 6-piece violin, 1 bass, 1 French horn, 1 flute, 1 pianist, 1 conductor (as I could see) and they were practically into the audience. The conductor was leaning back on to one of the empty theatre chairs. Actors ran in from the stage and from an audience door on the side, through the audience, bringing the opera to the people in a sense. Hopefully I'll get copies of the photos from Fabien for you. His girlfriend, Boram, was the soprano as Papagena. Absolutely stunning costume and a fantastic singer.

In the meantime, a 2nd year MPA student (did his first year at a partner school, Hertie in Berlin) has posted some photos from our orientation week. Take a look!

Tomorrow is legalities with the carte de sejour (long-stay visa) and some laptop bag shopping, and maybe a low-end pair of black pants. I guess I'm succumbing to the pressure of black. I feel too colorful and wayyyy too relaxed in my clothing. I had forgotten how well-dressed the Europeans are for all events - even an opera is a fashion show of 'dressing down.'