ode for another puff (2) - Summer

No, I haven’t had a smoke. Getting by without is mostly okay. I’ve been with smokers and withstood the urge to ask them for a cigarette or even a puff. I have survived the terraces, patios, sidewalk cafés, parks and my balcony by mostly avoiding them this year. All in all, it hasn’t been so difficult. Now I’m wondering if my lifelong love of these places was always linked to smoking. Did I go so often to these places because I wanted a smoke? Geeees. That’s scary. I’ve also stopped drinking alcohol. No, that one is easy. It’s just… after a few glasses of rosé, I give into impulse.

However, the desire to smoke persists, and I’ve found yet another hurdle to jump. The weather! I love summer so much. I love hot, muggy, sticky weather, and everything else associated with it: hot scalding sun, too much breeze or lack of and even lightening storms. That’s really ironic-- isn´t it? -- since I’m living in far Northern France. Well, honestly, for me, that hot, heavy sultry air is smoking weather. I crave that puff with a cold drink, under that umbrella, in that comfy deck chair. It’s sooo gd good. Whew! I have wanted to buy a pack all day. Just one! It’s Sunday! For old time sake! Blah, blah, blah.
I got by this time. I breathe so much better now. I can climb stairs without losing my breath and that wheezing cough is gone. Later! Rontay

Les sept doigts de la main

Traces - Les sept doigts de la main

Check out this circus troop that I saw last week at Jardin Fruitier de Laquenexy with my friend, Heidi. Many of them worked for Cirque de Soleil.
I have not been so amused for a real long time. I thought my circus days had long passed. The energy, the emotion, the talent, the magic.... I'm speechless. The jumps, falls, climbs, whirls, cartwheels, sprints... I'm in awe... How can people do those things with their human body? twist in two, do the splits, hold their entire weight on their finger. My God, what can't they do, really? Add to that, singing, dancing, and playing 10 musical instruments each. Definitely worth seeing again, again and again.

http://www.google.fr/images?hl=fr&q=les+sept+doigts+de+la+main+images&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=univ&ei=APISTb3QL4Kr8AaDz42LDg&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ct=title&resnum=1&ved=0CCwQsAQwAA


Rontay Merquiades

A ticket to France

Talking to my friend, Heidi, we reflected on what it means to be an American floating in France. Some days I really feel like a sociologist! Yes, some kind of Margaret Mead trying to understand the intracacies of this culture. How is it possible not to get the simplest task done, or spend seven days, months or years on projects and never get any further along. Heck, sometimes you can't even get the tiniest cup of coffee.

Americans grow up in a culture where we are taught that the ticket to success is hard work. The open, articulate, nice guy with a head on his shoulder usually gets what he wants, deserves, needs. Smile to that waiter and you get that coffee lickety split. Work yourself through college and you'll find that job, your reward that you justly merit... Summa Cum Laude. Phi Beta Kappa. Become partner in that firm. We also, okay this time maybe it's just the naive Midwesterner, believe that people are good and fair at heart. People are to be on an equal footing, people should have equal opportunities, people don't get turned away for unjustified reasons, your neighbor is no better off, no worse off than you are. Grrr.. that sounds so idealistic. But maybe I've been in France for too long.

In France, if you go into a café alone, where you do not know the waiter, the owner or any of the other customers, don’t expect to be served. It’s nothing personal, but why should the waiter care? He might never see you again. You are creating work for him and there is no incentive, good or bad, for him to take you serious. He can blow you off if he chooses. At the very least, he’ll attend to all the other customers who probably have some status with him or give into his desire to go smoke a cigarette, eat an olive or talk on his cellphone before taking your order. It’s cut and dry. Nothing you can say or do will change this. It’s up to him. You can try to charm him, just maybe it’ll work, but forget insistence, a sense of entitlement, or the big smile.


The worst thing about being a foreigner is you are often alone, often go into unknown stores, restaurants and cafés, and often need to rely on the kindness of strangers to find your way, get an apartment, find a job. Yes, I’m afraid our coffee metaphor extends throughout the country, adapting to every possible known context, official or unofficial, you could ever imagine. It’s flabbergasting. There are several words for it: the ticket, the piston (link), the connection, the old network. Choose your favorite. But, the foreigner is at a clear disadvantage because by nature he knows no one. Frenchmen have mothers, fathers, grandpas, uncles’ best friend’s wife’s brother’s friends, fellow first grader’s cousin’s sister, old teacher’s nephew-in-law… well, that’s the ticket. Honestly, it could be blackmail too.. also a lot of “I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine”. A Frenchman when looking for an apartment on the Left Bank automatically thinks of who or what connection, what way, what combination can get him access to that dream pad at the cheapest price possible? Who can get him that job he’s not qualified for? Who can get him into that popular club, concert, restaurant? Maybe a discount? How can I get an appointment to see that goddam eye doctor? How can I get those designer shoes for half price? Get that authorization to do this or that? Yes, it’s unfair. Especially since everyone in France will tell you this is not the case... It’s the country of liberté, égalité, fraternité with very set rules, laws, equal opportunity and no discrimination, and you, the foreigner, have just not done something right. Honestly, someone could become bitter if they think about it too much and don’t try to use the system to their advantage. I really do understand the 2005 riots in the immigrant suburbs in Paris. Those people have no tickets and will be forever denied jobs, houses, diplomas, information, services, coffees.

Anyway, tickets have been both a blessing and a curse in my life. I’ve got 1000 euros worth of books for my thesis for 100 euros because I had a friend who had a friend whose father was manager of a big bookstore in Paris. Virtually every job I have every got in France has been through connections. Some of them weren’t even advertised. My current employer got my name through a doctor and never bothered to interview me or read my resume. At one time I was able to claim state benefits I didn’t qualify for because the husband of my friend’s sister worked there. A good word from someone important got me a permanent green card. Today, a supermarket clerk I met at a party regularly forgot to scan some of my groceries. The owner of a restaurant I regularly go to gets me the best table and doesn’t charge me for dessert. Further, another advantage has been the wonderful trips to Provence, Charente, and Paris my contacts have afforded me. To show how far a ticket can go, an acquaintance of mine managed to get a friend with connections to lay a free marble floor for him and that same guy later got a job by having someone falsify a diploma he didn’t actually get from university! Another girl, got a huge apartment overlooking the river in a swanky area of this town for 140 euros rent per month, you cannot get a closet for that in France. Know someone in a labor union also apparently opens up lots of doors. They can get you enormous benefits.

On the flip side, not having certain connections have really hurt me. For instance, I spent 10 years to become qualified for a tenured post at a university. The rules stipulate a long, long process whereby you have to move not just one, but several mountains. I’m not exaggerating here. And I’m proud I did it. I was not daunted. I achieved it through a lot of hard work and patience, and obtained the certificate to prove it. BUT, do I have that post? No. Will I ever get a post? No. 99% sure. The fact is that I’ve got no ticket whatsoever into that academic world, and I should have known better to believe that system worked otherwise. I was naïve. I’ve also been living in the same goddamn studio for too many years cause I’ve got no connection there either. And having a career and living in nice surroundings are important! Actually, part of my reticence to move to another city in France is losing all my contacts and starting over again, alone, and living even worse. That’s difficult anywhere in the world but in France, where you literally need people to vouch for you, it’s difficult.

In general, I suppose I am resigned to make the best of this system, whether I like it or not. I have an American background, so I would prefer getting things done quickly through self-resilience, skill and kindness. Will I ever get fed up? Well, just maybe… But, it’s great to get a new ticket. For me, it doesn’t happen every day, but when it does, it’s wonderful. I could probably do better but I don’t work at it. It’s against my nature. I suppose some of the mystery and charm of France comes from its weird logic it's taken me so long to unravel.

That´s the ticket!

My advise, live your life as normal, follow your instincts, maybe you’ll have a pleasant surprise, but, in general, don’t expect much from French people if you don’t have a "piston". Rontay

Bled dry

Bled Dry

For survival, gotta be tough
Another gallon's not enough
A game of give, never take
One more pint, for goodness sake.

It's a game to so long endure
And where's the glory, never sure
As the well slowly churns up dry
They say sorry, sorry, then deny

So much blood shed for la France
For this bloody, wild incessant dance
See the end, there is that prize
Of fun and folly, oh what lies!

Glamour, glamour, worth a drop
Wine and dine, make one more crop
Sing and Sting, just pour it all
On heaven's doorstep, you shall fall

As the sun sets I shall bleed
Overwhelmed by rivers filled of greed
Again a quart to forge ahead
Why. too late now, for I am dead